“You are, and the best counsel of all types,” Carina said. “Want me to walk with you down to The Wrap?”
“No. You get going. You’ve probably already missed the appetizers, and you know how we love their jumbo lump crab cocktail. I can practically taste the sauce.”
“Let’s plan to go there later this month for your dad’s birthday,” Carina said as she edged toward the door.
Whitney would love to avoid last year’s disaster of a birthday get-together by going out instead. “They love Bookbinder’s. Wecan have them do that dark chocolate pudding layer cake Dad loves.”
“That would be awesome. I’ll make the reservations while I’m at the restaurant tonight,” Carina said. “His birthday is on the twenty-second, right?”
“Yes. I’ll tell Mom we’re taking care of it.” Whitney was relieved to have one less thing to worry about. “Give my brother my love.”
“I will. Thanks for being the best sister-in-law ever.”
“I just can’t help myself,” Whitney teased. “Hey, let me know what y’all have going on this Saturday. I need some downtime with my sweet little niece.”
“That works.” She hitched her purse up on her shoulder. “Love you. Good night.”
“Have fun.” Whitney watched Carina walk out. It must be exhausting being a wife, mother, and professional, but you’d never see even a hint of that in Carina. Even with full-time help, Carina juggled a lot, and every single thing on her plate was a priority, but she handled it with grace.
Whitney realized she might be the only one not finding a way to have a personal life as she walked back to grab her wallet.
As was the norm for a Wednesday night, several clients waited in the lobby. An older gentleman in a suit who looked like the type to be updating his will sat across from a businessman who appeared to be answering emails on his phone. Two others, one in an ill-fitting sport coat, and another in blue jeans, sat across from a couple who looked blissfully in love, holding hands. Whitney could darn near see the heart bubbles dancing over their heads.
Whitney offered a polite smile as she walked by.
Where those people sat used to be her granddaddy’s office. He retired years ago, but still if she took a deep breath, she could catch a faint hint of coffee and vanilla. Mom swore it was thelingering scent of cigars from a time when it wasn’t uncommon for men to celebrate with one, but Whitney found the smell familiar and comforting.
She pushed the heavy front door open and stepped outside onto the busy streets of downtown Richmond.
Chapter
Three
It was a short walk to The Wrap, known for baking their own bread and serving only fresh-sourced meat and produce from local farms; it had long been a local favorite. The smells met her before she reached the building, making her stomach rumble in anticipation of something good.
Air-conditioning washed over her as she opened the door. She groaned when saw the long line of people waiting to be seated. Ever since Don hired his daughter, Becky, to come work for him, the place was no longer a best-kept secret. Good news for them, but bad news for Whitney.
Becky had revamped the menu, making a new twist on “It’s a Wrap,” which was originally just a description of the flatbread and tortilla sandwiches they served. She’d taken it a step further, incorporating a movie theme into everything. They announced orders over a microphone accompanied by the loud slap of an oversized movie slate that startled Whitney every time.
She missed the days she could zip in and out with her favorite food. She exchanged a finger wave to Becky, who was talking to the next group waiting to be seated. Becky marked the tablet, then motioned Whitney to the side.
“Takeout tonight?” she asked.
“As usual.”
“What can I get for you? We’re slammed, but I’ll see if I can move your order up in the line.”
“That would be great. I was trying to decide between the quinoa power bowl or the southwest chicken wrap.”
“You always get that wrap.” Becky’s eyebrows pulled together. “I’d order tonight’s special. A free range chicken breast baked in local honey and lime, and a Caprese salad. You’ll love it.”
“I’ll take it.”
Becky scribbled the order on the pad and handed the receipt to Whitney. “You can pay at the bar, so as soon as it’s done, you can dash.”
Before Whitney could thank her, Becky swished off through the crowd toward the kitchen.
Whitney made her way to the edge of the new martini bar that now replaced the old smoothie station.
