by Lisa Dyson
“What does the online course teach?” Bartending was an area Bree wasn’t familiar with. She’d never thought about it beyond ordering a drink at a bar.
“Things like understanding state liquor laws, checking IDs, overserving. It’s a four-hour course, but you can take more time if you need it. Establishments like their bartenders to have the certification because it can lower their insurance rates.”
“Sounds good,” Bree said. “Do we have a list of women who might benefit from the training?”
“We do,” Roxie said. “In fact, Nick mentioned that he’d like to get his bartenders certified, too, and we can get a discount on the online course if we do it through his restaurant. He might also have someone who works for him interested in bartending. She’s a line cook now but has mentioned wanting to make more money because she’s a single mother with a GED.”
“Let’s include her, then. She sounds like the kind of woman we’re trying to help. Why don’t you contact all those interested so they have the week to take that online class before next Monday?”
“I’ll do that.” Roxie narrowed her eyes at Bree. “Are you all right?”
Bree straightened. “Of course I’m all right. What would make you think otherwise?” Could Roxie really see that Bree was feeling nauseous again? She’d thought she’d hidden her distress well.
“You’re just a little pale,” Roxie said. “And with how you’ve been feeling lately—”
“Don’t start in on that again,” Bree begged. “I’ve had just about enough of people worrying about my health. I’m fine.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
Roxie left then, and Bree sat alone in her office. Unfortunately, her first thoughts were of Nick. Here he was again, insinuating himself into her life. And coming by simply because she hadn’t felt well on Friday night? Bree wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Maybe she’d just need to wait and see.
* * *
TUESDAY MORNING NICK was nearing his restaurant when his cell phone rang. “Hi, Mom,” he said when he pushed the button on his car’s dashboard to use Bluetooth.
“Hello, Nick,” she replied, sounding slightly miffed. “Are you at the restaurant?”
“Almost. What’s up?”
“I was wondering about tonight’s reservations. Can you look and see if we can fit in a table of twelve to fifteen? I forgot that it’s your uncle Frank’s birthday and Aunt Lois asked me weeks ago about reserving a table. And, of course, I completely forgot.”
“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Nick reassured her, wondering why she hadn’t used their online reservation service but not asking. Actually, he’d been considering canceling the service to cut down on expenses, but he found that most people preferred it over calling the restaurant for a reservation. The last thing he needed was to stop customers from choosing his establishment. “What time did they want?” Probably prime time, but at least it was a Tuesday and not a weekend night.
“Lois was thinking seven since it’s a workday.”
Of course she was. “Let me check and I’ll call you back, Mom.” He pulled into his reserved parking place in the alley behind the restaurant.
“Thank you,” his mother said on a sigh before hanging up.
He shut off the engine, locked his car and entered the restaurant through the back door, turning on lights as he went. He walked straight through the kitchen and booted up the computer at the hostess desk. While he waited, he took a good look at the space. His assistant manager had taken charge of a thorough cleaning of the restaurant yesterday while they were closed and everything appeared as it should.
As soon as the computer was up and running, he checked the evening reservations and added the large party for his mother. And then another name on the reservation list caught his attention. Sinclair. Wasn’t that Roxie’s last name? He pulled out his wallet where he’d placed her business card. Yep, Roxie Sinclair. The reservation was for four people at seven o’clock. He’d make sure she got top-of-the-line treatment. Not that he didn’t want all of his guests treated well. But since she was obviously someone he might do more business with in the future, he would oversee her table personally. He also had to admit he wondered if Bree would be one of the four.
Pushing that thought to the side, Nick got on with his day, which went surprisingly fast. Lunch service was good and before he knew it, his staff was prepping for dinner. The lunch and dinner menus weren’t that different from each other, mainly smaller portions for lunch, and he’d added a few more expensive entrées, like marinated rib eye and creamy seafood casserole, with lobster, crab and shrimp, to the dinner menu.
Since he had family coming, he decided to add a special dessert to the menu for the evening. Uncle Frank, the birthday boy, was Nick’s dad’s older brother and the two of them had loved their mother’s tiramisu. Her recipe had been passed down after his half-Italian grandmother’s death several years ago, along with other family recipes she’d made like lasagna and fettuccine Alfredo.
Nick was so busy that he lost track of time until his mom came into the kitchen and hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. “I really appreciate that you made room for our group.”
Nick kissed her cheek. “Not a problem. Just make sure the check is paid by eight because we have another party coming in then.”
“What!”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. The panic on his mom’s face was well worth it. He patted her shoulder. “I’m kidding, Mom. You can stay as long as you want.”
She let out a visible sigh. “Don’t do that to me. You want me to have a heart attack?”
“Go.” He turned her toward the door to the dining room. “Have a good time. I’ll come out to greet everyone soon.”
She nodded, started to leave and then stopped. She faced him. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. That woman who fainted last week at the pop-up? She’s at table four.” She shrugged. “I guess she got over whatever made her sick.”
Nick watched his mother disappear through the doorway and realized his mouth was open. He shut it and slowly turned back to finish what he’d been doing, but his sous-chef had taken over.
“I’m going to say hello to my family,” Nick told Fernando. “I won’t be long.”
“Don’t worry about it, boss. I’ll cover for you.”
Nick knew that was true. He brushed off his white chef jacket with his name embroidered under the restaurant’s name and looked down to make sure he was presentable. He refused to admit that he was more concerned about how Bree would see him than anyone in his family.
He straightened his shoulders and headed to the dining room. There she was at table four, not too far from Uncle Frank’s birthday celebration. Roxie was on Bree’s right and across from them were Hannah and Amber. Visions of what had transpired between him and Bree floated through his brain. He shoved them away, pasted a smile on his face and went to wish Uncle Frank a happy birthday.
Everyone was talking at once, and Uncle Frank rose as soon as he saw Nick, pulling him into a bear hug. “Good to see you, Nicholas.” The table grew quiet as the group focused on Nick.
“Happy birthday, Uncle Frank.” He clapped his uncle on the back and turned to Aunt Lois to give her a hug. “Thanks for coming,” he said.
“Thank you for accommodating us.” Aunt Lois pointed at Nick’s mom. “Em’s the one who suggested it.”
Nick’s eyes widened as he and his mother locked gazes. “She’s pretty good at plugging the restaurant,” he said to Aunt Lois.
He went around the table, greeting his cousins and his other aunt and uncle in attendance. When he got to his mother, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “We’ll talk later.”
“I figured as much.”
As he stood to his full height, he caught Bree looki
ng at him from her table. He nodded his acknowledgment.
“You’re going over to say hello, aren’t you?” his mother asked, obviously noticing the interaction between Bree and him.
“Of course,” he said through gritted teeth, knowing his mother was trying to take his attention off the part she’d played in hosting the family dinner at his restaurant. Not that he minded having the extra customers. It was the last-minute notice that bothered him.
He returned to Uncle Frank’s end of the table. “I made a special dessert for tonight to celebrate your birthday. I hope you enjoy it.”
Next he turned to Bree’s group. Seeing that they were focused on their menus and not deep in conversation, he stepped to the end of their table. “Good evening.” He smiled at each woman in turn, ending with Bree. “I’m glad to see you all here.” He didn’t notice any of the others in particular, but he couldn’t help looking more intently at Bree. He couldn’t see below her waist, but she was dressed in what she’d probably worn to work that day. Her dark brown, long-sleeved blouse made her dark blue eyes appear almost black. She had two buttons open at the neck, exposing a hint of cleavage. Her brown leather jacket was hanging on the back of her chair.
The women all smiled back and spoke at once, except for Bree. She didn’t seem as happy to see him. Not a surprise. She’d thought she was having a vacation fling with him and now here he was in front of her for the third time in ten days.
“I see you all have drinks.” Amber and Hannah had red wine. He couldn’t help noticing that Bree was drinking water. Designated driver? He pointed to Roxie’s drink. “Our signature martini?”
Roxie nodded, picked up her glass and smiled. “It’s delish.”
He gestured to his family’s table. “Today is my uncle’s birthday and I’ve made a special dessert for the occasion. I’d love to bring you all some after dinner, as well, if you’d like. On the house.”
Again, they spoke at once, except for Bree, chattering about how nice it was for him to offer.
“What did you make?” Hannah asked. “Unless it’s a secret.”
“I haven’t told my uncle specifics yet, but I made my grandmother’s tiramisu. It was a favorite of my uncle, as well as his brother...my dad.”
“I love tiramisu,” Amber said in a stage whisper. “Is that other man at the table your dad?”
Nick sobered. “No, my dad passed away almost two years ago. The other gentleman is also my uncle. He’s married to my dad’s sister.”
The women gave him sympathetic looks.
“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bring down your party.”
“I don’t see Pete at the table,” Roxie said. “Isn’t he your cousin or your brother or something?”
Nick nodded. “He’s actually related by blood to my mother’s side of the family, but then my parents adopted him when he was eight and now everyone considers him family. You know how he is—he’s usually the life of the party. Unfortunately, he had a work thing tonight.”
“That’s too bad.” Amber looked directly at Roxie when she spoke.
Nick pointed to the menus they’d been perusing. “What are you planning to order? Do you have any questions about the menu?”
The women asked questions and wanted suggestions, so he spent the next few minutes going over the menu with them. “I’ll get your server over here to put in your orders. Enjoy!” He took a last glance at Bree, left the table and went into the kitchen.
When it was time to serve Uncle Frank’s dessert, Nick helped his staff bring the individual plates to everyone at the table.
“This looks just as I remember it,” Uncle Frank told him, his eyes glowing with unshed tears at Nick’s surprise dessert. He took a bite and closed his eyes, a stream of liquid escaping down each cheek. He bowed his head and covered his face with his hands.
Nick was overcome with emotion, too, and patted his uncle on the shoulder. “I’m hoping it tastes like you remember it?”
Uncle Frank looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. “Exactly. Thank you so much. You’re a good boy for doing this for me.”
Thankfully, everyone else at the table began talking as they ate their own portions of tiramisu. Some recognized the recipe and others were too young to have tasted Nonna’s food.
Nick finally made his way back to the kitchen, grateful that he had such a competent sous-chef to cover for him tonight.
One of the restaurant’s longtime servers entered the kitchen. “Table four is ready for their dessert,” he said to Nick, who nodded before getting the plates he’d put into the fridge to make sure they had enough for Bree’s table.
He handed the server two plates and Nick followed behind with the other two as they went back into the dining room.
“This looks wonderful,” Hannah said as the dessert was placed in front of her.
“I love tiramisu,” Roxie said, rubbing her hands together in preparation for tasting it.
“I noticed your uncle was a little emotional when you brought out the dessert.” Bree’s words surprised him. Not only had she noticed the exchange between his uncle and him, but she was actually speaking to Nick for the first time that evening.
“He was.” Nick spoke directly to Bree, wishing they were in a more private place than they were right now. “Food can bring back memories just like familiar smells do. It’s one of the things that drew me to cooking.”
Bree nodded and took a bite of the dessert. He was about to leave, but his ego got the best of him. Surely she’d love it.
Instead, she covered her mouth as she sprang up from her chair and headed quickly to the ladies’ room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I TOLD YOU I’m fine,” Bree said to Roxie for about the hundredth time the next day. They were seated in the waiting room of Bree’s doctor. Roxie—and Amber and Hannah—had insisted Bree see a doctor first thing this morning. Bree wasn’t sure what Roxie had done to get this last-minute morning appointment, but here they were.
“And I—we—told you that people who are fine don’t pass out or throw up for no reason.”
Bree rolled her eyes. “I know. But I don’t feel sick at all right now.” At least it was only Roxie accompanying her to the doctor. They wouldn’t let her go alone, probably not trusting her to go, so she’d compromised by allowing only Roxie to go with her rather than the three of them.
“Then let Dr. Strickland agree with you and we’ll all stop bugging you.”
“Promise?”
Roxie gave her a resigned smile. “Promise.”
“Bree Tucker?” A young woman in light blue scrubs stood at the door leading to the back of the office.
“Right here.” Bree rose. She turned to Roxie, who was about to stand up, too. “I can handle this on my own. I’ll get a notarized statement saying I’m healthy if that’s what you need.”
“Go ahead.” Roxie sat back down in the plaid-upholstered chair, crossed her legs dramatically and picked up the magazine she’d been browsing. “But I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Bree was already through the door to the back when Roxie made her threat. “Thanks for the confidence,” she murmured.
The nurse who showed her to an examination room took her vitals while asking why Bree was there.
“Because my friends forced me to.” At the young woman’s surprised expression, Bree explained. “I’ve had some unusual things going on. But I feel fine,” she added quickly. “My friends are just concerned because I’ve had an occasional upset stomach and I passed out last week.”
“Sometimes friends worry too much.”
“Don’t they?” Bree was glad to see she had at least one person who understood.
The nurse made notes on a computer screen and then walked to the door. “Dr. Strickland will be in shortly.”
“Thank you.”
While she waited for the doctor, Bree checked email on her phone. She was replying to one when the doctor knocked and then entered the room.
“Good morning, Bree,” the midforties, female doctor greeted her. “What brings you in today?”
Bree explained for the second time what had been going on over the past few weeks while Dr. Strickland typed something into the computer.
“And when did this begin?”
Bree tried to remember. “I was fine on vacation, so it started right after that. In fact, the first time I felt queasy was the last day of vacation.”
Dr. Strickland narrowed her eyes. “And where was this vacation?”
“We were on a small island off the coast of Puerto Rico. Isla de la Blanca. My friends and I were there for a working vacation.”
“Have any of them had similar symptoms?”
“No, they’ve all been fine. In fact, I feel fine right now. It all just comes on at the oddest times.” She remembered something. “I did cut my foot and needed stitches while I was there, but it healed quickly.”
The doctor asked a few more questions about the cut and then listened to Bree’s heart and lungs with her stethoscope. “Let’s have you lie back on the table.”
Bree did so and the doctor checked the lymph nodes in her neck and felt around her abdomen.
“Have you gotten your period recently?”
Bree had to think. “I’m not sure when it was. My ob-gyn put me on a low-dose birth control pill for my irregular periods. I just take the pills and don’t think about when my last period occurred.”
The doctor nodded her head. “Yes, I see that birth control medication noted in your chart. And you’re taking the pills every day at the same time? You haven’t missed a dose?”
“Like clockwork.”
“Good. You can sit up now. I’m going to have some blood drawn to make sure you didn’t pick up something on that island. It’s also possible that you’re having a reaction to the birth control pills. We should have the results later today with our on-site lab.”
