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She was relieved once the last grocery bag had been lifted into the SUV and she could climb into the front seat next to George. He always seemed to sense how desperate she was for solitude and silence after a trip into town and kept his comments down to a minimum.
He had the vehicle started and halfway down Main Road before Charity remembered her employer.
“Where’s Mr. Hollingsworth?”
“Saw him pop into MJ’s earlier. Wobbly as a newborn calf. I didn’t think he’d make it that far, truth be told. Never before seen a man fight so hard to keep himself upright. It was admirable.”
He slowed the vehicle down as it drew abreast of the restaurant but swore softly when he realized that there was nowhere to park.
“Circle the block, I’ll go in and get him,” Charity suggested, and George nodded, stopping long enough for her to hop out.
Charity spotted Mr. Hollingsworth at one of the window tables, but he didn’t see her, his attention focused on whatever he had in front of him. Sighing, because that meant she would have to go in, Charity threw back her shoulders and entered the warmth of the restaurant.
The maître d’, a familiar looking young man, smiled when he spotted her.
“Mrs. Cole. How lovely to see you. Will you be having lunch?”
Seriously, how did everybody know her name? And why were they always so warm and welcoming? It was sweet and unnerving and really uncomfortable.
“Uh. No…thank you. I’m just here to speak with my employer.”
“Your employer?” The maître d’, identified as Ricardo by his discreet name tag, looked blank for a second, but when his eyes drifted to Mr. Hollingsworth’s table, a troubled frown settled on his face. “That’s your boss?”
Clearly, Mr. Hollingsworth had not made a good impression during the short time he’d been here. Not if the look on Ricardo’s face was anything to go by.
“Yes.” She tossed him a fleeting smile before hurrying toward her boss’s table. She could now see what had him so wholly absorbed—a huge slice of dark, moist chocolate cake.
“Mr. Hollingsworth?” Her voice seemed to startle him, and his gaze snapped to her in an instant, rooting her to the spot.
“Mrs. Cole.” His voice was glacial. “Done with your shopping?”
“Yes. We’re ready to leave.”
“Join me for some coffee,” he said, ignoring her statement.
“George couldn’t find a parking spot, so he’s circling the block.”
“This cake is sinful. I can’t finish it by myself. Would you like to share?”
Share? Did he not recognize how out of bounds that suggestion was? Friends, intimates, lovers, shared slices of cake. And they were none of those things.
“You could take it home, sir.”
“What’s your rush, Mrs. Cole?”
“The weather, sir.”
His lips thinned. No arguing against nature.
He nodded and the curtness of the gesture was reflected in his voice, “Of course. I’ll settle my bill and meet you outside.”
Feeling thoroughly dismissed and unutterably relieved about it, Charity hastened out of the restaurant. She acknowledged Ricardo’s cheery goodbye with an awkward nod.
She stood beneath the awning, stamping her feet to ward off the cold while she waited for George. To her relief, the SUV took the corner back onto Main Road before Mr. Hollingsworth exited the restaurant and after navigating a snag in the traffic, George double parked beside an ancient VW and left the engine idling while he waited.
Charity chose not to wait for Mr. Hollingsworth and dashed across the short distance to the SUV, gesturing at George to stay put when it looked like he was about to exit the vehicle to assist her.
The rain was starting to come down in earnest now and, by the time she hopped into the front seat, she was soaked. An icy stray droplet slid down the neck of her blouse. She shuddered at the sensation of ice water slipping down her back and had a horrible moment of panic as the sensation triggered the memory of a sharp, cold blade skimming down the exact same path as that frigid droplet.
