by Linda Reilly
“You people are so thoughtful,” Liliana said, lowering her gaze. She pushed aside her empty plate. Talia was pleased to see she’d eaten every speck, right down to the last crumb of fruitcake. “I’m sorry I was so horrible to you yesterday. I … I wasn’t myself.”
“I understand,” Talia said softly.
“Will wanted to marry that woman, you know.” Her voice was bitter. “He loved her the way he once loved me. He even had a pendant made for her with that horrid two-headed snake on it.”
The snake again. That awful family crest. Talia shivered. “Did he ever have one made for you?”
“No, apparently I wasn’t worthy, for which I am grateful to the good Lord.” She rolled her hazel eyes at the ceiling.
“Why were you trying to get into Ria’s shop?”
Liliana shrugged. “I just wanted to see it, maybe trash a few things. It was childish of me, I know, but when I woke up this morning I had a vicious headache. I guess I made a bad choice.” Looking somewhat embarrassed, she tossed her crumpled napkin onto her empty plate. “Strangely, I feel a thousand times better. I suspect the delectable breakfast you fed me has something to do with it.”
Talia silently agreed. Food had a way of soothing the body, as well as the mind. Martha’s single act of deep-frying an egg for Liliana had worked like a miracle drug. She would have to remember to thank Martha, even if she was a grump.
Not wanting to get distracted, Talia turned back to the conversation. “Are you and Will going to go through with the divorce?” she asked quietly.
Liliana gave her a flat smile. “He told you about that, did he? Yes, I think we are. I can’t fight him any longer. I’ve made so many thoughtless mistakes, and now it’s too late to make up for them.”
Talia wondered if she would elaborate. Feigning nonchalance, she took a sip from her own mug, hoping to elicit a bit more info from Liliana.
“You may as well know. I … cheated on Will. When we were first married, he traveled a lot on business, trying to make a name for himself buying up commercial property. I couldn’t bear it when he was gone. I felt so horribly alone.” She choked back a sob, although Talia wasn’t sure it was genuine. She suspected Liliana had a touch of the dramatic in her.
“I can understand that,” Talia said. Not the cheating part, though.
“I followed in my mother’s footsteps,” Liliana went on, her tone filled with regret. “When I was sixteen, she left Daddy and me for some gigolo she met at the tennis club. I’m afraid I did pretty much the same thing to Will, except for the leaving part.”
Talia shifted in her chair. “How long have you and Will been together? I mean, you know …”
“We were married twenty-two years ago,” she said, her eyes glazing over. “Will desperately wanted a child, and at first I went along with it. Then one day when I was shopping, I saw a woman struggling to soothe a screaming infant. The baby’s face was covered in drool, and a ripe smell was coming from its diaper.” She made a face. “God forgive me, but I just couldn’t see myself doing that. I faced a hard truth that day—I wasn’t cut out to be a mother. Without telling Will, I did something unforgivable. I went to my doctor, and he … made sure I could never get pregnant.”
Talia didn’t know what to say. The baby part she got. Motherhood wasn’t for everyone. But going behind Will’s back to ensure she’d never get pregnant? There was no way Talia could empathize with that.
“I had to tell him eventually,” Liliana said. “Our efforts”—she made air quotes—“to get pregnant weren’t working, and he wanted us to have tests. That was the beginning of the end,” she said sadly. “In a way, I guess I deserved it.”
The door crashed open, saving Talia from coming up with a response. Skateboard tucked under his arm, Lucas tripped inside, freezing when he saw that Talia wasn’t alone. “Oh, um, sorry about that,” he said, blushing to the tips of his ears.
“Good morning, Lucas,” Talia said. She noticed that Liliana was grinning broadly at him.
Lucas mumbled a greeting and shot into the kitchen. Talia heard his skateboard clang against the back wall, where he always propped it.
The noise didn’t seem to bother Liliana. “My, what a handsome young man,” she purred.
Talia felt herself tense. Lucas was nineteen! She couldn’t seriously be interested in him, could she?
Oh, chill, she told herself. Liliana was only paying him a compliment. Besides, Lucas was handsome, even if he was still a teenager who tripped over his own shoelaces every five minutes.
Liliana slipped her arms into her wool coat and rose. “I’m sorry if I bent your ear too long,” she said. “You’ve been very patient with me.” From her deep, slanted pocket she removed a Coach wallet that was a gorgeous shade of teal. “What do I owe you for your generosity?”
“Nothing,” Talia said. “It was our pleasure, and I enjoyed our chat. I hope you’ll visit again when you can sample our fish and chips, or some of our other deep-fried treats.” She walked Liliana to the door and stepped out onto the plaza with her. “Liliana, this might sound like a strange question, but did Will ever refer to the two-headed snake on his ring as a dragon?”
Liliana’s smooth brow furrowed for a moment. “A dragon? No, I don’t think so, but he did call it something else. Amphis … amphee … something like that. Frankly, I never cared enough to remember it. Even one snake is too many for me.”
“I’m with you there,” Talia said. She made a mental note about the “amphis” or “amphee” name, hoping she could retain it long enough to Google it. She bade Liliana good-bye, watching as the woman strode over the cobblestone toward Main Street. Liliana seemed much steadier now, probably because she’d gotten some solid food into her.
Talia was waving a final good-bye when she saw Liliana turn and enter Sage & Seaweed.
Oh, boy. Suzy was in for a surprise.
17
The lunch orders were coming in almost faster than Talia could answer the phone.
“We are, like, slammed, Ms. Marby,” Lucas said grimly. “I mean, it’s great having the business, but—”
“I know, Lucas.” Talia slung a slab of golden fried haddock into a takeout box, next to a container of mushy peas. “We’re going to have to forgo delivery until we can figure out a better system. Today is out of the question.” She added a slew of sizzling hot fries, closed the box, and shoved it into a brown bag, attaching a slip with the customer’s name to the top.
His large hands covered in disposable gloves, Lucas lowered two handfuls of hand-cut potatoes into the deep fryer. Talia squeezed past him, wincing as Lucas sucked in his breath to let her pass. Her arm bumped his, and one of the fry baskets jiggled. Sparks of hot oil flew up and landed on Lucas’s already bruised wrist.
“Lucas, I’m so sorry,” Talia cried. “Are you all right?”
Grimacing, Lucas rubbed discreetly at a spot on his wrist. “Yeah, don’t worry. It’s okay, I barely felt it,” he said.
Talia gently took his hand and examined it. A dime-sized red welt was forming on the inside of his wrist. “You are not okay. Take off your glove and run some cold water over it while I get some salve and a Band-Aid.”
“Really, Ms. Marby. It’s only—”
Talia felt her hands shaking. “Please do as I say, Lucas.” She dug out the first aid kit from underneath the sink.
Lucas did as instructed, and then patted his wrist dry with a clean paper towel. Talia applied some anesthetizing ointment and then covered the burn with the largest Band-Aid she could find in the kit.
“You’re, like, really pale, Ms. Marby.” Lucas said nervously. “Honestly, it’s only a tiny burn. You’re not going to pass out, are you?”
Behind her, Talia heard a snort. She poured herself a glass of water and gulped it down, then pressed the side of the glass to her forehead. “I’m not going to pass out, Lucas, but why don’t you go home. Martha and I can take over. Once the lunch crush is over, it won’t be bad.”
“No w
ay,” he protested. “You need me here, and my wrist doesn’t even hurt.”
Talia looked at him and suppressed a smile. Lucas had never stood up to her before. “All right. But if it starts to throb, I want you to tell me right away, okay?”
He crossed his heart with his forefinger. “I promise.”
Martha eyed her balefully. “Still think we have enough room in here?”
Squelching a retort, Talia glanced out at the dining area. Nearly all the tables were occupied. Business was booming!
“You and I will talk later,” she said quietly to Martha.
They made it through the crunch without any further accidents. As kitchen burns went, Lucas’s was fairly minor, but it made Talia sick to think how much worse it could’ve been. A few times, she’d caught him touching the tender area with his fingertips and wincing—a sure sign that it hurt more than he was saying. Around one thirty, she insisted that he go home.
After he left, she took a mini-break with a mug of coffee and a small hunk of deep-fried haddock. Martha bustled around the dining area clearing the tables. Normally she would plop herself at the table with Talia and take a few minutes to have lunch. Her grim mood today had apparently squashed her appetite.
Talia sighed. If Martha quit, it would be yet another problem to deal with. She had to admit that with the added menu items, their kitchen had grown somewhat chaotic. Not to mention that the extra fryer she’d had to install reduced some of the precious food prep area.
She hadn’t thought it all through very well, had she? What kind of a restaurateur was she? Was she one of the ones doomed to fail? Would she be another sad statistic in the column of those who just couldn’t cut it?
By two thirty or so, things had drifted into a lull. Grateful for the quiet time, Talia began wiping down tables and chairs to prepare for the supper crowd. She was just returning her spray bottle to the shelf underneath the counter when the entrance door swung open. In stepped Scott Pollard, looking as fine as ever in a long-sleeved gray polo shirt and crisp, form-fitting jeans that looked hand-tailored just for him. Talia would swear the man ironed his jeans! He sauntered up to the blue-speckled counter and leaned his muscular arms over it. “Hey,” he said with a wide grin.
“Hey, yourself, Scott!” Talia returned his grin. “It’s great to see you again.”
“So, what does the chef recommend today?” He leaned his chin on the palm of his hand and searched her face with glittering brown eyes.
His intense stare making her squirm a little, Talia pulled an order pad from the pocket of her blue apron. She pasted on a perky smile. “The chef recommends our classic fish and chips meal, complete with tangy slaw, mushy peas, and our homemade tartar sauce.”
He slapped the counter lightly. “Sounds like a plan. Hey, you got a minute to talk while your pretty gal over there whips up my order?” He winked at Martha.
Martha smiled sweetly at him. “Coming right up, sir.”
Grateful that Scott’s exaggerated flattery hadn’t set Martha off, she led him over to the table near the restroom—the same one Liliana Claiborne had occupied only a few hours earlier.
Scott rested his arms on the table, concern etched on his features. “I take it you still haven’t seen Andy Nash, right?” he said in a low voice.
“No, I haven’t.” She debated whether or not to tell him that Detective Prescott had inquired about him, too. Instead, she turned the tables on him. “Why?” she said. “Have the police been asking you about him?”
After a long sigh, Scott nodded. “Yeah, and the longer he stays away, the guiltier he looks. Man, I wish I knew where he was. I’d make him march right into the police station and tell them he’s innocent!” He ran his fingers through his short blond hair.
Talia wondered if Scott knew how naïve he sounded. The authorities didn’t cross your name off their suspect list simply because you proclaimed your innocence. The state police certainly weren’t chumps, nor was Detective Prescott.
Scott scratched underneath his left forearm. “Is it hot in here, or is it me?” he said.
Talia laughed. “The restaurant’s always toasty because of the kitchen. In the summer we really have to crank the AC.” She realized that she’d never seen Scott wear a jacket. He must be one of those people who hated being too warm.
He chuckled. “I can’t stand summer. Love it when the weather turns cold.” He pushed up his left sleeve and scratched his arm again. “Course it doesn’t help that every winter I get a case of eczema on this one arm, especially the elbow. Never get it on the other one. I think it’s because I use my right hand when I’m working, while my left is usually resting on something.”
Talia almost giggled out loud when she spied the tat that stretched along his left forearm. The image was of a swashbuckling pirate, complete with a plumed purple hat and an evil-looking ’stache.
Scott noticed her staring and grinned. “You like it? It’s Captain Hook, from Peter Pan.”
“Oh gosh, I should have recognized him,” Talia said. “The … artist did a good job.”
“When I was a kid, I played the role of the good captain in a school play. I swear, it was about the most fun I ever had. After that it kind of stuck with me, you know? Mostly because the other kids never let me forget it. So when I was sixteen, I got this tat done, much to my father’s dismay. I thought he’d kill me when he saw it!” Scott laughed and tugged his sleeve down. “Ah, the things we do when we’re young, right?” He sat back and folded his arms over his chest, his brown-eyed gaze deepening. “So, um, what do you say? Wanna be my Peter Pan?”
Talia shifted uncomfortably on her chair. Feeling a blush creep into her cheeks, she waved a hand at him. “Scott, you’re such a teaser,” she said. “Let me check on your fish and chips, okay?” She nearly tripped over her own foot leaping off the chair.
In the kitchen, Martha was just sliding his crispy fried haddock into a lined cone. She finished preparing the meal, and Talia plunked it all onto a tray, along with a glass of ice water. When she delivered it to his table, she saw that he was talking on his cell, the lines around his eyes creased with annoyance. “I told you,” he said tightly, “I’m having lunch. I’ll call you when I’m free.” He disconnected and grinned up at Talia.
Using the excuse that she wanted to let him enjoy his meal in peace, Talia dashed back into the kitchen. Martha, staying unusually silent, was busy preparing herself a small snack of fries and coleslaw. Talia had told her the day she hired her that she could eat whatever she wanted, so long as it didn’t interfere with her job.
“Hey, that was terrific,” Scott said, strolling up to the counter. He picked up the short stack of menus that rested there and straightened them. “Best meal I’ve had in a long time.” He paid the bill, and with a wink handed Martha a fiver.
“Sir, that’s not—” Martha started to say, but Scott shook his head.
“You take it,” he said in a kindhearted tone. “You’re a wonderful cook.”
Talia resisted an eye-roll. Was he genuine, or was he laying it on a little too thick? Well, what did it matter? Martha got a nice tip out of the deal.
Scott slid his business card across the counter. “Talia, I’m serious. If you ever need any renovations done, please give me a call, okay? I’m booked up through the end of the year, but I can always make room for you, depending on how big the job is.”
“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”
He waved a cheery good-bye and left. With a sigh of relief, Talia tucked his card in her purse.
“He’s got the hots for you, you know,” Martha quipped, carrying her plate over to the table in the corner of the kitchen. She dropped onto one of the chairs with a thud.
“Don’t be silly.” Talia turned away so Martha wouldn’t see her cheeks burning. “After you finish eating, I think we need to talk.”
“We can talk right now.” Martha shoveled a forkful of slaw into her mouth.
Talia took a deep breath and sat down opposite her empl
oyee. She folded her hands over the table, feeling oddly like a schoolteacher about to give a stern lecture to a student. “Martha,” she said in a deliberate tone. “What happened today with Lucas made me realize how short on space we really are in here. You’re absolutely right about that. The problem is, there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t wave a magic wand and make the kitchen bigger, can I?”
Martha shrugged. “Nope.” She popped a crispy fry into her mouth.
“So we’re all going to have to learn to work around it. We’ll do the best we can, okay?”
Martha wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Do you know what I did in my old job?”
“I know you worked for a national insurance company,” Talia said, her patience waning.
“I was a leasing expert and a space planner,” Martha said. “The company had offices in all fifty states, plus one in Puerto Rico. Every time they downsized—or upsized when times were good—it was my job to find and design the right office space for them. The company had formulas for how much office or cube space each employee could have. No one liked it, but they had to live with it. If they were allowed an office that was six by eight, then by George, that’s what they got. My job was to squeeze it all in and make everyone happy in the allotted office space.”
“It sounds very challenging,” Talia said, already losing interest. “But I don’t see—”
“No, you don’t, and that’s because you’re only half listening.”
Talia looked at her, openmouthed. “I … I—”
“Do you know why I got fired?”
Talia shook her head.
“One of the offices in the northwest region was cutting their employees from nine to six. Real nice for those folks who got axed, huh?” Her voice had an edge to it.
“I’m sure it was terrible for them,” Talia said. She’d witnessed similar job cuts when she worked as a property manager in Boston. It was so sad, watching longtime employees clean out their desks while someone stood over them to be sure they didn’t trash anything.
