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An order that simple didn’t need to be written down, so Alice simply tucked the pad back into her apron, gave the women a strange glance and returned to the kitchen.
“Bev.” She waved down the hostess as she filled up the water glasses. “Did those ladies say anything to you? About why they wanted to sit with me?”
Beverly, all of sixteen, shrugged and snapped her gum. “I dunno. I didn’t ask. Why?”
Alice sighed. “Never mind.”
“Hope
they tip good,” Bev added. “Middle-aged ladies tip for shit.”
That Bev thought they were remotely middle-aged made Alice feel ancient in comparison. Some of the women at her table were barely older than she was, and their kids were all much younger than hers. If that was over-the-hill, Bev must have thought Alice herself was ready for a nursing home.
She snapped plastic lids onto the kids’ milk cups to prevent the inevitable spills, and returned to the table with the drinks, distributing them among the family. All five women watched her with wide, interested eyes, the way visitors to a zoo might observe a captive panda.
“Um.” Alice shifted nervously, the weight of their scrutiny becoming more overwhelming by the second. She had never been so steadily eyeballed by other women before. In fact, the only time anyone had stared like this had been when she’d first slept with Matt, and he’d been eyeballing her all night like a prize catch. “Are you guys ready to order, or do you need another minute?”
The eldest of the children, maybe four or five years old, loudly slurped his milk, little legs kicking out under the table.
“Ask her.” This from one of the blonde sisters to the eldest-looking one who wore her hair in a smart bob.
“I will ask her. Will you all please be quiet?”
Alice’s stomach lurched. They didn’t seem like paparazzi. What kind of magazine would send a sister team of chatty ladies with toddlers out to scoop a story? But the way they were whispering to one another and giving her the eye like she was a human spectacle made her think it couldn’t possibly be anything else. They were here because of the story about Alex.
Great. Now not only was she out one job, but her remaining position was about to be flooded with gossip hounds who wanted to make an exhibit out of her. Look, it’s the slutty townie who slept with Alex Ross.
No thanks.
“Ladies, I don’t mean to be rude—”
The sister who was obviously in charge raised one hand to silence Alice’s protests. “If you looked any more panicked right now, I’d worry you were going to make a run for the door. I think there’s a chance we haven’t been as subtle as we could be. But what do you expect from five women trying to come up with a plan on short notice?”
Alice glanced at the group again, trying to figure out what the hell this woman was talking about, but when her gaze landed on the youngest sister, something clicked. Maybe it was the short, pixie-cut black curls, or the sweet rounded cheeks, but it was like staring into a family portrait and seeing the missing piece.
“Oh my God,” she said as realization sank in. “You’re Alex’s sisters.” Of course. He’d told her he had five sisters—the number had seemed astronomical to her at the time—and now here they were, all five of them.
That was a lot of Rosses in one place.
“That’s us.” The youngest beamed at her, looking so much like Alex it almost broke Alice’s heart. “I’m Violet. This is Ricki, Jane, Carla and Emily.” She pointed to each sister in turn. The eldest—the one who’d been elected to speak—was Jane. The blonde who kept eyeing her with poorly concealed spite was Ricki. Emily and Carla hadn’t yet offered their personalities to the conversation.
From their brief discussions about his family, she knew Violet—he called her Vi—and Ricki were the two sister he was closest with, so her attention kept returning to them. Violet seemed cheery enough, but Alice expected Ricki to shank her with a fork the moment she turned her back.
“Well, uh, not to sound rude or anything, ladies, but what exactly brings you to Lakeland?”
“You, of course.” This from Jane, her tone reminiscent of a school teacher, which she might actually have been. Alice couldn’t remember if Alex had ever told her about their professions. “It’s not like we’d drive eight hours on a Friday afternoon for fun.”
Violet smacked Jane’s arm. “Don’t make it sound so mean.”
“Maybe it should be mean,” Ricki interjected. “It’s not like she’s been great to him.”
“Both of you need to hush and let Jane speak,” Carla—the other blonde sister—said, hoisting the little boy onto her lap. “We’re not getting anywhere by bickering at each other like this.”
“That’s never stopped us before,” Ricki retorted. She’d evidently inherited the same sarcasm gene as Alex.
Emily sipped her water and smiled apologetically.
“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Jane suggested.
