Entertaining Angels

by Judy Duarte

  “You got it.”

  While she waited for her order, she slipped off her right shoe and rubbed her arch against the built-in footrest on the bar. She didn’t need to look at her watch to know it was time to clock out. But she wouldn’t get to for a while.

  On days like this, she hated her job, hated the blisters on her feet, the ache in her back.

  She’d only been working at Paddy’s since the grand reopening a few months back, and if the pay wasn’t better than the diner where she used to work, she would have quit by now.

  At one time, Paddy’s was just a seedy bar, but a year or so ago, a couple of investors bought the place and remodeled by expanding the kitchen and adding a dining room. There’d been a few changes to the outside, too, but the biggest improvement had been within. The walls were now covered with mock white plaster and trimmed with dark timber beams.

  The primary decorative focus was a rock wall that displayed a large, open fireplace, complete with grate, bellows and a suspended cast iron kettle. Next to it, wooden benches and settle seats provided the patrons a place to sit amidst the Gaelic ambiance.

  When Kristy had learned the employees would be required to dress in period clothing, which was intended to add to the ambiance, she’d almost backed out of the job offer. But the new owners explained that they were providing lockers in the break room, where the hired help could keep their street clothes and personal belongings.

  It would have been a pain to trek through town dressed as a seventeenth-century tavern wench.

  Even though no one had said anything, Kristy suspected her red hair had been a real selling point when it came to landing the job, but that was okay with her, especially if it meant more tips. She needed the money to make ends meet.

  Still, she preferred to work the dining room, which was easier and less stressful. She’d already put in more than eight hours serving food today, but when Sandra Billups had called in sick, Kristy had been asked to move over to the bar and cover until a replacement came in.

  The tips were much better on this side, so she accepted the change without complaint. Still, she didn’t like dealing with drunks, no matter how much money they threw around, no matter how important their jobs were and how much stress had driven them to Paddy’s to unwind.

  “Hey, baby,” a patron in the corner who’d grown increasingly annoying hollered. “Why don’t you put down that tray and come over here? I could sure use some company.”

  The guy had been pretty quiet and uptight when he arrived. But he’d been downing Irish whiskey since before four, and his sobriety had been deteriorating steadily.

  His discarded jacket, which he’d hung over his chair earlier, had slipped onto the floor. And his tie rested on the table in a pile of silk.

  It was time to cut him off.

  Where was Ian, the bouncer? Flexing his muscles and flirting with that busty blonde he’d sidled up to earlier, no doubt.

  What a crowd this was.

  The new owners might have done their best to cater to a higher-class patron, but the old pub regulars continued to show up night after night, hunkering down and digging in until closing time.

  There seemed to be an imaginary line down the middle of the bar, giving it both a shady and a respectable side. But as far as Kristy was concerned, there wasn’t much difference between the two groups once they’d thrown back a couple of shooters or downed a few beers.

  Every now and again, she would hear one of the old crowd complain about how uppity everyone had gotten now that they were putting on the ritz.

  Still, to her, the new and improved Paddy’s Pub wasn’t that nice, and neither were some of the people who hung out here. Just working in the bar was enough to reinforce her vow to never touch a drop of alcohol again.

  As she turned to take the tray of drinks to table seven, she nearly bumped into a dark-haired man clad in worn jeans and a white polo shirt.

  She spouted out a blanket apology, while trying to balance her load. When their gazes finally met, she recognized an old friend.

  Ramon Gonzales slid her a slow smile. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

  Kristy didn’t usually enjoy running into any of the people she’d gone to school with, but Ramon was one of the exceptions, and she returned his grin. “I usually work on the restaurant side, but they were shorthanded in here.”

  It had been an excuse. An attempt to make him understand why Kristy, who had a history she wished she could rewind and replay with a different outcome, would work as a cocktail waitress. She supposed, after seven years, she still struggled to right her reputation, especially when it came to a guy who’d always been nice to her.

  She probably hadn’t needed to explain. In school, Ramon had been a shy and introspective guy who never used to talk about people behind their backs.

  Dark Latino eyes bore into hers. “How’s it going?”

  “All right. How about you?”

  He gave a half shrug. “I’m okay. Business is good.”

  Ramon’s dad had been the groundskeeper at the Rensfield estate ever since Kristy was in the sixth grade. She remembered because Ramon had been the new kid in school, and all the girls had a crush on the cute, dark-haired boy who didn’t speak English.

  Actually, she realized, even after learning the language, he still spoke very little.

  When most of the other graduates had gone on to college, Ramon had started a mobile landscaping company with an old, beat-up Toyota pickup and tools he’d picked up at an estate sale. From what she’d heard, he was building a reputation for being more than a guy who just cut lawns and pruned hedges.

  Kristy adjusted the heavy tray in her hands. “I saw the garden you created around the fountain near the playground at the park. It’s beautiful. You’ve got a real eye for color to go along with a green thumb.”

  “Thanks.” He looked at her as though he had something on his mind, on his heart.

  When they were still in school, she’d noticed a similar expression at times, a puppy-dog gaze that was hard to read. She wondered if anyone ever took the time to look beyond the silence.

  Ramon nodded toward the tray-load of drinks she carried. “Can you take a break? I’d like to talk to you.”

  For a while, during their junior year in high school, Ramon and Shana had a thing going, but then Mrs. Delacourt had flipped when she got wind of it. Shortly after that, the relation ship ended. Shana hadn’t wanted to talk about it much. She’d been pretty sullen for the rest of the school term, then had finally rallied, around the end of summer. Of course, at that time Kristy had been caught up in her own problems—an unexpected pregnancy and her grandmother’s debilitating stroke—so she hadn’t been very supportive of Shana.

  Still, the Ramon/Shana thing had seemed to work itself out.

  Kristy glanced at her watch. “Sure. I’ve got a minute or so. Let me drop these off and I’ll be back. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yeah, it has.”

  Ramon took a seat that faced the doorway, then watched as the attractive redhead delivered drinks to a couple of women near the window.

  He’d always liked Kristy. Years ago, when they’d been in high school, he’d been struggling in chemistry. She’d approached him and asked if he wanted her to tutor him. Embarrassed that his difficulty with the subject had become public knowledge, he’d almost declined. But then he’d reconsidered and swallowed his macho pride. They’d met at the library at the end of the day, and she’d explained things in a way old man Winslow hadn’t been able to.

  Kristy had been an academic whiz, and Ramon had always figured her let’s-party reputation was due in part to boredom, since school came so easy for her. Too bad she hadn’t been able to go to college and on to medical school, like she’d planned. She probably would have made a great doctor.

  Ramon stretched out in his seat and contemplated skipping out before she returned. Instead, he sat tight and berated himself for buckling his hard-nose stance when it came to Shana Delacourt.r />
  Whatever had given him the idea that he ought to quiz Kristy about a stupid rumor?

  And why did he even give a rip?

  He and Shana were through years ago. Maybe even before their first date.

  When Kristy returned, she asked if he’d like a drink.

  “Got any Coronas?”

  “In here?” She laughed and glanced at the shelves behind the massive, hand-carved bar. “We’ve got just about every Irish ale and malt ever made, but my boss refuses to carry any other kind of beer on principle. You should have stopped at El Toro Loco instead.”

  He sat back in the wooden chair that wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the seats at El Toro Loco and tossed her a smile. “Yeah, well you don’t work there. And I wanted to ask you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I heard that Brad flew to visit Shana in Australia.”

  The smile on her face shifted, as her brow furrowed. “You heard right.”

  He glanced down, fiddled with the wooden holder on the table that advertised malt whiskeys and ales, then returned his gaze to her. “Is there something going on between them?”

  She folded her arms, wrinkling an oversized Irish peasant blouse that didn’t do a thing for a woman who’d once seemed to enjoy displaying a dynamite shape, then shrugged. “They’re getting married in August.”

  The news slammed him in the chest, nearly taking his breath away, but he managed to nod. He didn’t understand his compulsion to quiz Kristy. Why couldn’t he just let thoughts of Shana go, like he’d always done in the past?

  He supposed the idea of her marrying anyone would have bothered him, but something didn’t feel right about her and Brad Rensfield. For one thing, he’d never really liked the spoiled rich kid. So just thinking about him and Shana together gnawed a hole in his gut. Shana was too sweet for Brad. In fact, she was too good for most guys, which is why Ramon hadn’t put up a fight when she’d broken up with him. Well, that and the fact she’d wanted to keep their relationship low-key, if not a complete secret.

  Ramon’s pride hadn’t let him accept terms like that.

  “So, what did you hear?” Kristy’s gaze drilled into him.

  “That Brad made a visit to Tiffany’s for a ring before boarding the plane.”

  “Boy, news sure travels fast.”

  “Especially through the Rensfield employee grapevine.”

  Kristy didn’t appear to be enthusiastic about the gossip, and since she and Shana had been best friends for years, he wondered if the Brad thing had seemed to blindside her, too.

  “You don’t seem excited,” he said.

  She shrugged. “It’s just a little sudden. That’s all.”

  Ramon didn’t reveal his hand very often—to anyone—and even if he wasn’t afraid to share what was on his mind and in his heart, Kristy had enough stuff to worry about, a big enough load to carry, what with a kid and her grandmother and all.

  He crossed his arms, now wishing he hadn’t arrived on the scene—especially since Kristy didn’t appear to know any more than he did. “The news just seemed to come out of the blue, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  So Ramon wasn’t the only one with qualms about the surprise engagement. But since Kristy wasn’t doing much talking, he couldn’t very well prod for more information than he already had.

  He looked at Shana’s best friend, really looked at her. She’d been pretty in high school—a knockout, actually. She’d played up her looks back then, using makeup and her choice of clothing to enhance her best features and attributes.

  But now she played them down, and he suspected he knew why.

  She’d never talked about the night that Brad had thrown the first of many parties he had hosted when his parents were out of town. Nor had she talked about the father of her baby.

  The truth was left for speculation and gossip, which was too bad. The guy who’d gotten her pregnant should have come forward and been a man about it; he had to have known.

  “Hey, Red,” some drunk in the corner called out to Kristy. “Did you forget about me?”

  She grimaced and rolled her eyes. “I hate serving guys like that.”

  Ramon nodded, took her hand and gave it a quick, gentle squeeze. “You ought to be in med school, Kristy.”

  “Yeah, well things don’t always work out the way we want.”

  No, they didn’t.

  Something in her gaze—sympathy, understanding?—told him she knew about him and Shana. But she didn’t say a word, and he didn’t want to resurrect old memories.

  She pulled her hand free and offered him a wistful smile. “I can get you a list of the brews we have.”

  “Don’t bother.” The chair legs scraped the floor as he stood. “I’ve got beer at home, and I think I’d rather spend a quiet evening alone.”

  “So would I.” She blew out a wistful sigh. “But I can’t clock out for another hour or so.”

  As she turned away, Ramon reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. He left it on the table.

  A tip, he supposed. Or maybe it was payment for a couple of tutoring sessions that had gotten him a B in chemistry, rather than a D.

  Then again, he suspected it might be penitence for keeping quiet about where she might find the guy who fathered her baby.

  Craig had spent all afternoon getting a handle on his new job. He’d figured that the best way to give it his best was to jump in and get started. So, after the soup kitchen had closed at two, he’d helped Joe and Dawn clean up and prepare for the next day.

  Then he’d gone back to his office, which had probably been a broom closet before his arrival. He’d checked out the phone jack and the electrical sockets so he’d know how to set up things once the desk arrived. Then he’d worked out a calendar in his day planner. He would have put his schedule into the computer, but apparently, that was on order, too.

  He’d talked to Lorena, the church secretary, and had compiled a list of all the youth in the church. Then he’d called each one, introduced himself, and invited them to a pizza party on Saturday night. He said they’d be doing something special in the weeks to come, but he’d yet to figure out just what. He decided he had plenty of time to come up with something clever and fun that would appeal to teenagers.

  Next, with Lorena’s help, he’d created a list of the shutins, church members who weren’t able to come to services on Sunday. Then he’d blocked out time to meet each one.

  “That one’s a real pistol,” Lorena told him, as she tapped one name with her finger. “From what I understand, she was a sweetheart before her stroke, but she’s not very pleasant to be around now.”

  “Why is that?” he asked.

  “It’s her attitude. I think she’s angry with God, and she seems to take it out on anyone who stops to visit.”

  “Who’s been going to see her?”

  “To be honest, I think most of the women from the Ladies Aid took turns going to see her for a while, but she practically ran them off. So as far as I know, Pastor George is the only one left.”

  And that meant Craig would be his successor.

  As much as he’d like to move Lorraine Smith to the bottom of the list, he bumped her to the top instead. Not that he was a glutton for punishment. It’s just that he usually liked to get the worst over first.

  Before he knew it, five o’clock rolled around, and he called it a day.

  Ten minutes later, he returned to the Delacourts’ house and, using the key Cassandra had given him earlier, let himself in the door. Even though Daniel and Cassandra had done their best to make him feel welcome, he still felt awkward walking into the house without knocking. And the hearty aroma of dinner—roast beef, maybe?—didn’t soften his discomfort.

  “I’m home,” he called out as a courtesy.

  “Oh, good,” Cassandra said, meeting him in the foyer with a smile. “Daniel isn’t home yet. I’m afraid he’s working late tonight—again. So I’ll just set a plate aside for hi
m. That way, we can eat whenever we want to.”

  “I’m afraid I have to go out this evening,” he said.

  Her smile seemed to droop, although he couldn’t be sure because, if she’d been disappointed, she quickly recovered.

  “I can put dinner on now,” she said, “if you’d like. Or I can save you a plate, like I’m doing for Daniel.”

  Craig wasn’t particularly hungry, since he’d eaten a late lunch—the meatloaf that had been left over from the soup kitchen—but something told him not to mention it.

  “I wouldn’t mind having dinner before I go, if that’s okay,” he said, glad to see her smile return.

  “It’ll just take a minute.”

  Moments later, after washing his hands, Craig shed his jacket and hung it in the den closet. Then he joined his hostess in the formal dining room, where a rose bowl filled with yellow buds served as a centerpiece.

  She held a tray with two plates, although he realized she’d set the table for three and noted that she’d used china, crystal, and silver. He wondered if she was trying to make him feel special, or if she always went to this much trouble for a family dinner.

  He supposed it really didn’t matter.

  She asked him to have a seat, and he complied. Then she placed a plate in front of him that had been filled with roast beef, new red potatoes, and glazed carrots.

  He reached for his linen napkin, as she served herself. She asked him if he minded saying grace, and after he did, he reached for his fork.

  But he held off on digging in. “Everything looks delicious, Cassandra. Thank you for going to so much trouble.”

  “You’re welcome. I love to cook and entertain.” She glanced at the empty setting across from her, then looked back at him and smiled. “It’s always nice to have someone appreciate my efforts.”

  He wondered how often Daniel had to work late and guessed that it was probably too often.

  “So,” Cassandra said, reaching for her linen napkin. “Where do you have to go tonight?”

  “To visit Lorraine Smith. Do you know her?”

  Cassandra placed the napkin in her lap. “Yes, I do. She’s Kristy’s grandmother.”