If you were my man

by Unknown

  “Because you haven’t shown me yet that you can take the demands of thirty women and remain cordial and efficient,” Nathalyia answered. She hadn’t been in her office thirty minutes before Theresa had knocked on her door. She was in no mood for this.

  “How would you know?” Theresa asked. “You’re gone almost every evening with that dude. At least you were until you got knocked up and he walked out on you.”

  “He didn’t walk out,” Nathalyia snapped.

  “I didn’t mean anything,” Theresa said, trying to backpedal. “I just don’t want you to forget that men can talk sweet, but all they want is one thing.”

  “Perhaps you went out with the wrong men.” Nathalyia leaned forward and picked up her pen. “Any luck in finding work at home?”

  “Ah. No.”

  “People should be happy at work,” Nathalyia went on. “I don’t think you are here.”

  Theresa’s eyes widened. “Yes, I am. Just because I heard them talking about the great money in tips you can make and I wanted to earn some doesn’t mean I’m unhappy.”

  “You’re thinking about the money. I hope the other servers really enjoy what they do,” Nathalyia told her. “Therein lies the difference between you and the ones who are working the party.”

  Theresa’s lower lip began to tremble. “Maybe because they’ve never had it as hard as I have. There haven’t been many days in my life when I’ve gone to bed really happy. I’m trying, for you and for Mama.”

  Nathalyia didn’t feel the familiar guilt. Perhaps because Theresa always brought up how bad she’d had it, or their mother when they talked. Nathalyia had tried to please her mother in so many ways while growing up, until she had learned it was impossible.

  “Your shift is about to start. You don’t want to be late on the floor.”

  Theresa looked as if she wanted to hit Nathalyia. When she was younger, Theresa had. “I’m doing my best.”

  “That’s all I ask.” Nathalyia wasn’t falling for the “poor me” look again. Looking as if she was still a bit unsure, Theresa left.

  Nathalyia leaned back in a chair for a moment, then pushed to her feet. She wanted to do a walk-through again of the private dining room before the engagement party arrived.

  The woman’s sister had been rather demanding. She’d wanted extra waitstaff—at no cost—assigned parking spaces, and shrimp at wholesale prices. If the future bride or the guests were anything like the hostess, Nathalyia might have actually done Theresa a favor.

  Theresa stared at Nathalyia with pure hatred as she went to the private dining room. Put that fat sow over your own sister, will you? Thinking about firing me, are you? We’ll just see about that.

  She fingered the small device in the pocket of her apron. She was making good money using the decoder to steal customers’ credit card information, but it was no longer enough. She planned to strip Nathalyia of everything and leave her with nothing and no one. Before I’m through with you, you’ ll wish you’d never been born.

  Clarice, as the lead waitstaff member for the private party, finished her walk-through with Nathalyia, then went to stand by the hostess booth to wait for Mrs. Ford, who was giving the engagement party. Nathalyia had said the woman had a lot of demands, but that was all.

  The doors swung open and three women came though the double doors being held open by two waiters. Clarice couldn’t believe it. Please no.

  One of the women stopped, stared at her. Hate shone back at her from dark green eyes, thanks to contacts. The other two continued.

  “Welcome to Fontaine,” one of the hostesses greeted them.

  “I’m Alice Ford. I have a private room reserved for my sister’s engagement party,” the woman said. Middle-aged, thin-faced, she had the same fake blue eyes as the younger woman with her. Both were slender with fair skin. Their mousy brown hair was dyed blond.

  “Certainly, Ms. Ford. We’re expecting you.” Marilyn turned to Clarice.

  There was no help for it. “Welcome, Mrs. Ford. I’m the lead waitress, Clarice Howard. We’re happy to have you and will do everything to make the day memorable.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Mrs. Ford said. Then she said to the elderly woman next to her, “Come on, Mama.”

  “Alice, I don’t want her anywhere near me,” said the younger woman, who had stopped on seeing Clarice.

  Clarice gritted her teeth to keep from saying she felt the same way.

  “What’s the matter?” Alice asked, looking back at her sister.

  Her sister whispered in Alice’s ear. Her head jerked up. “I want to see the manager immediately!”

  Since the day had just begun, many of the waitstaff were in the front to greet guests, hold open the door, or just hang. All were glued to the obviously tense situation.

  “She’s in her office,” Clarice said. Neither she or Nathalyia would want this discussed in front of the arriving guests or employees. “I’ll show you.”

  “I don’t want you anywhere near us,” Alice Ford snapped.

  “I’ll take you,” Theresa volunteered, a gleeful expression on her face. “I’m sure Nathalyia would want to know there’s a problem.”

  Alice threw a hateful look at Clarice, then with her mother, followed Theresa. Her sister stalked after them.

  Clarice could think of only one thing, getting to Jake. He met her a few steps away. “Don’t you dare buckle.”

  Clarice clamped her lips together and clenched her fists. Anger made her tremble.

  Jake caught her arm. “B.J., take care of the bar.” In the storage room, this time there were no heated kisses. “Talk.”

  “The intended bride is the woman I hit. She’s the one who made me lose my teaching job.”

  Nathalyia looked up as her door swung open. Seeing Theresa, she started to ask her if she had forgotten how to knock when she saw the three women with her. Two looked angry. Since Theresa was practically dancing with glee, Nathalyia was sure she wasn’t the cause of the problem.

  Nathalyia came to her feet. “Mrs. Ford, good morning.”

  “I want that woman fired,” she said.

  “Who and why?” Nathalyia had dealt before with irate customers who wanted people fired.

  “Clarice. She attacked my sister.” Mrs. Ford pointed to the tight-lipped woman standing behind her.

  Nathalyia knew Clarice had a quick temper, but she also valued her. “Theresa, please ask Clarice to come in here, and close the door behind you.”

  Theresa glared at her, then left. Nathalyia hoped the subtle reminder to close the door would keep her from eavesdropping. With Jake probably watching the door once Clarice entered, Theresa wouldn’t have a chance to spy.

  “I don’t want that woman near me,” the sister said.

  “I’m sorry, but I have no intention of discussing this without Clarice here.” She indicated the sofa. “Why don’t you sit your mother there. You and your sister can have a seat in front of my desk.”

  “I knew I should have selected another place for the engagement party,” Mrs. Ford said, then helped her mother to sit down.

  Nathalyia felt like saying she wished she had as well. The door opened and Clarice came in. Behind her, Nathalyia saw Jake.

  The woman’s sister sneered. “He’s the only type of man she can get.”

  Nathalyia came around her desk. “What is your name?”

  The woman blinked and looked uneasy before she said, “Evelyn Hill.”

  “Ms. Hill, if you want to continue this conversation, I suggest you respect everyone in this restaurant and keep your unwarranted opinions to yourself,” Nathalyia said, clearly seeing why Clarice had hit the obnoxious woman.

  “My sister has a right to say what she wants,” Mrs. Ford said.

  “Yes, she does,” Nathalyia said. “Just not in Fontaine. Your decision.”

  The women traded looks. Mrs. Ford relented. “Let’s get this over with. Our guests will be arriving soon.”

  “Clarice, please come in. Jake, I know
you’ll see that we’re not disturbed. If guests for Ms. Hill’s party arrive, please section off a part of the Cajun private dining room, and offer them complimentary soft drinks or tea,” Nathalyia said.

  “Yes, boss.” He touched Clarice’s shoulder briefly and closed the door.

  “Now, Ms. Hill, repeat your claim,” Nathalyia said.

  “It’s no claim,” Mrs. Ford’s sister snapped. She pointed a finger at Clarice. “She hit me.”

  “You hit me first,” Clarice said. “I let you get away with putting your finger in my face then. I should have put you in check long before that.”

  “You were jealous. Stephen only took you out to make me jealous,” Evelyn shouted. “We’re engaged now. Like I would be jealous of anyone like you.”

  Clarice moved. Nathalyia was faster. She placed her hand on Clarice’s chest and felt her tremble. “You provoked her. Just as you’re doing now.”

  “She hit my sister with a closed fist!” Mrs. Ford announced. “She almost broke her nose. You can’t compare that to a slap.”

  Nathalyia kept her hand on Clarice. “If you can’t take a lick, don’t give one.”

  Both women gasped. Mrs. Ford’s nose shot up in the air. “I will not stay here. I want a full refund.”

  Nathalyia fully faced her. “That will be impossible. Food has been prepared and extra staff hired. You signed a contract.”

  “You can’t possibly expect us to stay,” Evelyn said.

  “Whether you stay or go is your decision. In either case, there will be no refund,” Nathalyia told them.

  “I don’t want her serving,” Evelyn insisted.

  “We certainly don’t,” Mrs. Ford agreed.

  “That’s not your decision to make. You requested the most efficient waitstaff to be in attendance and that is what I’ve provided,” Nathalyia said. “Changes at this late date are impossible and will not provide your guests with the high level of service Fontaine is known for.”

  Mrs. Ford’s lips pressed together so tight, she probably cut off circulation. “I will never come here again, and I’ll tell everyone I meet not to either.”

  “That’s your right. But, to tell the truth, my lawyers and I take a very dim view of slander.” Nathalyia looked at her watch. “It’s two minutes until your guests are scheduled to arrive. Should I have Clarice show you to the private dining room?”

  “Bitch.”

  Nathalyia heard Evelyn mutter the remark and caught Clarice’s arm. She looked straight at the other woman. “You really shouldn’t feel that way about yourself, even if it might be true.”

  Clarice burst out laughing.

  “Your decision, Mrs. Ford.”

  “The service and food better be everything I paid for.” She marched over to her mother. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Enjoy your party.” Nathalyia turned to Clarice. “Please escort our guests to the Cajun room and show them what it means to be a guest at Fontaine.”

  Clarice smiled. “This way, ladies, and might I say again, welcome to Fontaine.”

  Heads high, Evelyn and her sister left, pulling their elderly mother with them.

  TWENTY

  Clarice escorted the women to the Cajun room and then went to the adjoining room for the women who had arrived early. There were three. None had gifts. After showing them to where Evelyn and her sister waited, Clarice went to find Jake.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  She came around the bar. “Nathalyia was brilliant. She showed them that she wouldn’t be dictated to.”

  “I knew she would. If you didn’t let your temper get in the way,” he said. He drew a beer and served a customer before returning to her.

  She made a face. “I almost hit Evelyn again. My brothers taught me how to fight.”

  “Fighting isn’t always the answer.”

  Clarice folded her arms. “I just wish I could show her up.”

  “With me, you can’t do that,” he said quietly.

  Clarice was taken aback. She put her hands on her hips. “That is so idiotic I won’t even address it.” She caught a signal from the hostess that more guests had arrived. “I’ll be back.”

  Showing the women to the Cajun room, Clarice checked on the guests and ignored the glares and snide comments of the sisters. “Ladies, Holly and Marie are here to ensure you have everything you need to make this occasion a memorable one for Ms. Hill. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

  Amid thank-yous Clarice left and went straight to the bar. “Are you through being idiotic?”

  Jake looked up. Misery stared back at her. His hand lifted toward his scared cheek before dropping to his side. “I’m older and the bartender. Maybe we made a mistake.”

  If he hadn’t looked so miserable, Clarice might have thought he was using the incident to break up with her. He wasn’t. He was still unsure of her. She had no such qualms. She cared for him. He steadied her, made her happy, content, and horny.

  “Jake Sergeant, you’re stuck with me. You better grin and bear it.” She kissed him on the cheek.

  “I’m not surprised she can’t do better.” The words were followed by nasty laughter.

  Clarice looked around to see Evelyn with a couple of her cronies from the elementary school where they had worked. Evelyn looked at Jake, then at Clarice, as if they were nothing.

  Clarice started around the bar. Jake caught her hand before she could punch her again. “She’s trying to get back at you anyway she can. Think.”

  “I’d like to follow her into the bathroom and hold her head in the toilet,” Clarice muttered.

  “Then you’d be arrested and fired, and she will have won.”

  “She’s mean.”

  “I don’t care what she thinks, I only care about you.” Jake waited until she turned to him. “Now, go show her you’re dating a man who would gladly give up his life for you.”

  Clarice fought back tears. Squeezing his hand, she returned to the dining room. There were nowhere near the thirty women expected, and there was only one gift on the gift table. It seemed as if Clarice wasn’t the only one Evelyn had ticked off.

  Two very long hours later, Evelyn, her sister, and her mother left. Thirteen women instead of the thirty came. When it was over there were only two gifts. Clarice didn’t gloat. Her mother had taught her that gloating would often land you in a similar position. She was too happy with Jake to want to mess up.

  “All done,” she told Jake as she stopped at the bar.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “You can show me when you come over tonight.” Grinning, she continued to the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes.

  “You can do this, Nathalyia. You’re strong.” Nathalyia blinked, refusing to cry or to put her head down on the desk as she wanted to. The pep talk wasn’t helping.

  Throughout her life, as far as she could remember, she had relied on herself to get through bad times. Even loving Martin, she had kept a part of her to herself. Somewhere along the way with Rafael she’d begun to look at him as more than a lover, as the man to whom she could finally give her heart, her love, and, more important, her trust.

  She’d made a horrible mistake, but she wouldn’t blame the baby as her mother had blamed and mistreated her. Nor would she wallow in self-pity. She’d seen the disastrous effects of that on her mother and sisters.

  She’d tried to help Theresa, but Nathalyia didn’t think it was possible. It might be too late. Perhaps if their mother had shown love instead of disinterest, her sisters might have had a chance to turn out differently. She didn’t know.

  She was just thankful that she wasn’t all about herself, or always trying to get over on other people. While growing up, and even into adulthood, Nathalyia had wondered why she was the one who’d been picked on and left out. Now she was glad.

  She could be like Theresa or Paula, “working her way” across the country. Her pregnancy scared her, but they’d make it. Her baby would know that h
e or she was loved, no matter what.

  A knock sounded on her door. She put her head in the palm of her hand.

  She didn’t want to see anyone or deal with a problem. She wouldn’t let herself think it was Rafael and he’d changed his mind. One thing her hard life growing up had taught her was to face reality, not hide from it. He’d called last night to check on her. The conversation had been brief.

  The knock came again.

  Her head lifted. Martin had taught her that, regardless of what was going on in their lives, Fontaine came first, because not only was the restaurant the source of their livelihood, it was a source of pride.

  “Come in.” The door opened. Nathalyia’s mouth gaped.

  “Hello, Nathalyia. We thought we’d say hello before we sat down to lunch,” Helen said. With her were Maureen, Brianna, and Celeste.

  “When we asked for you, a waitress named Clarice said we should come on back,” Maureen said.

  “This will be my first time eating at Fontaine,” Celeste said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I already know I want the bread pudding—without the bourbon sauce—if it comes that way,” Brianna commented.

  Nathalyia’s lashes blinked, her mouth opened, but nothing came out initially. She came unsteadily to her feet. “Did Rafael send you?”

  Helen’s face saddened. “No.”

  Nathalyia pushed aside the hurt. “I don’t understand.”

  Helen and Maureen came around the desk, easing Nathalyia back into her chair. “We’re here to let you know that we care. You have four new friends who will be here for you regardless.”

  Nathalyia shook her head. They didn’t know. “Rafael—” She had to stop before she continued. “Rafael and I aren’t getting married.”

  “Even more reason for us to be here for you,” Brianna said. “You don’t need to be alone during this. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have my family.”

  Nathalyia bit her lip. Deep down she wanted someone she could count on. “Thank you.”

  “Your baby will have aunts and uncles who love him or her.” Helen smiled down at Nathalyia. “We hope you’ll let us be a part of your life now.”