Arthur took a sip of the club soda. “Excellent”—he peered at her name tag—“Stormi. Excellent club soda.”
She beamed. “We aim to please.”
As Arthur continued to butter up the waitress, Daniel was still processing. He’d only done what was expected of him, witha little extra due to Lila Pickett being quite demanding when it came to punctuality, scheduling, and keeping the cars in spotless, pristine condition. But even during those times, she was fine to deal with and always pleasant to him. Just as he didn’t understand why Arthur had hired him, he was clueless why he was getting such a hike in pay.
The waitress left, and Arthur turned to him. “You look puzzled, Daniel.”
“I am.” He hesitated, not wanting to ruin a good thing if his next question upset Arthur. But he had to know the answer. “Why did you take a chance on me?”
Arthur stared at the bubbles in his glass for a moment. “After more than thirty years of practicing criminal law, I’ve developed a level of discernment. Some of my clients are not only true criminals, they also relish their criminality. Others are sorry for what they’ve done but refuse to change their ways. Then I get a few, like you, who learn their lesson and transform their lives for the better.” He shrugged and looked at Daniel. “You can call it a gut feeling too. After I fired my last driver, you came to mind. To be honest, I was sure you weren’t going to take the position.”
“Why?”
“It’s not exactly a glamorous job. And I know Lila can be a bit much sometimes. But I’m impressed with how you handle the position, and my wife. I believe good work should be rewarded.”
Daniel grinned. “Thank you, Arthur. That means a lot. I’ll stay on as long as you want me to.”
“That’s good to hear.” He grew serious again. “I wish more people would make the effort to turn things around.”
He said the last sentence in a voice so low Daniel could barely hear him.
The waitress showed up with their pizzas and they dug in. From Arthur’s muffled sounds of approval as they ate, Daniel could tell he’d made the right recommendation. They chatted during the meal, mostly about the investor meeting, with Daniel saying few words and nodding at appropriate times. He’d learned a while ago that sometimes all Arthur wanted was a sounding board.
As he was about to finish off the last bite of pineapple-laden pizza, he looked up at the entrance. He froze at what he saw—Brittany and Amy walking into the dining area.
Arthur turned around to see what he was looking at. “Friends of yours?”
He was tempted to drop his pizza and run over to them. But he held back, and fortunately neither of them spotted him as they were seated at a table on the other side of the restaurant. He exhaled. If Brittany had been alone, he wouldn’t have hesitated to go to her. But he couldn’t, not with Amy there. It wasn’t time, not yet.Hopefully soon...
“Everything all right?” Arthur asked.
Collecting himself, Daniel said, “Yes.” His boss didn’t know anything about his family life. At the time of his conviction, he wanted to leave Brittany and Amy out of it. He hadn’t even told Brittany his boss’s name. “I just thought I saw someone I know.” Disappointment filled him. “My mistake.”
***
Britt gripped the edge of the red-and-white checkered tablecloth as her mother perused the menu. The trunk of Mom’s car was half-full of packages from their morning shopping spree. Thestores hadn’t been too crowded for the first two hours, and she was able to relax a little. But after more shoppers appeared, she started getting anxious, and then she got annoyed with herself because she was anxious.
Her nerves were heightened even now, since Grimaldi’s was jam-packed with people. They were lucky they’d gotten a table. At this point Britt would have been happy to go home and have a PB&J, but she couldn’t keep running away and avoiding everything that made her uncomfortable. This was good practice for Savannah’s wedding.
“Everything always looks so delicious.” Mom smiled and kept reading. “I always have a hard time choosing what to get.”
Britt didn’t. She always got the same thing.
“Okay,” she finally announced, “I’m getting the fried tortellini with clam sauce.” She shut the menu. “YOLO. Isn’t that what all you cool kids say?”
“Yeah,” Britt said, laughing. “Ten years ago.” But her mother’s attempt at being cool made her smile. Both her parents could be such dorks sometimes. It was cute.
A waiter came over, his face flushed, glasses of water balancing in his hands. “Sorry for the wait,” he said, giving them the drinks. “Today has been crazy.” He shoved back his blond bangs and pulled out a pad from the black apron around his waist. “Have you decided?”
Mom gave her order, along with a Diet Coke with lemon to drink. “Clearly I’m counting calories,” she said with a grin.
The waiter smiled and turned to Britt.
“Hawaiian,” she said.
He leaned forward. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
She gulped and spoke louder. “Hawaiian. Personal pan.”
