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Morgan thought Marie was a lucky woman. And decided she’d been right when the lucky woman came in moments later.
Marie all but melted onto a stool. “God, Charlie. Where has that been all my life?”
She blinked when Morgan set a glass of champagne in front of her.
“Champagne?”
“You deserve it. Eighteen years,” he told Morgan. “Three kids, and our first solo getaway in sixteen years.”
“And now I feel like a princess. I know we’re supposed to dress up and have a fancy dinner, but, Charlie, I’m a wet noodle.”
“Right there with you. Is the food any good in here?” he asked Morgan.
“I can tell you it is. Why don’t you take a booth by the window. I’ll bring your drinks. Take a look at the menu, and if you decide to have dinner here, I’ll cancel your reservation for you.”
“That’s so nice.” Marie just sighed it out. “Everything and everybody’s just so nice. I love this place. Charlie, we owe my sister a great big bouquet for telling us about it.”
While Morgan took care of them, the Jamesons brought their empties to the bar and took stools.
“Another round. Heady Toppers.”
Morgan put the empties into the sink. “Cheese fries with that?”
Mick broke into a grin, and for an instant looked as young as his grandson. “My reputation precedes me. How about it, Liam? Split some, and don’t tell your grandmother.”
“You’re paying? It’s in the vault.”
She plugged the order in, began to draw the beer.
“I don’t know what you said to the couple over there.” Mick nodded in Charlie and Marie’s direction. “But it made them happy. That’s the goal here, make people happy.”
“Hot stone massages had already done that job. They made me want one of my own.” She served the beer, caught the signal Charlie sent her. “Excuse me a minute.” As she walked over, she waved the server over with her.
When she came back, she got out a champagne bucket.
“The Glade’s losing a reservation. Charlie and Marie are dining here: club sandwich for her, steak san for him—hold the onions because Charlie has plans.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she filled the bucket with ice. “They’re capping their first day of their first visit to the resort with a bottle of champagne. The good stuff.”
“Champagne’s on the house,” Mick told her.
“Oh, that’s—that’s great.”
“I’ll just go say hello while you get a bottle chilled. Don’t eat all the fries, Liam.”
“That’s all Mick,” Liam said, shaking his head.
She cashed out the corporate types, made a couple of dry martinis, watched Charlie and Marie clink glasses.
“You’ve got an easy way with a hard job,” Mick observed as he polished off his beer. “I appreciate what it takes to make a hard job look easy. Let’s mosey, partner.” He slapped Liam on the shoulder.
Mick slid three twenties onto the bar. “Keep it up.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jameson.”
“Mick. We’re family here.”
“You ski, Morgan?”
She shook her head at Liam.
