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“With any luck, I won’t be here long enough to cause any problems for you.” His voice was flat as he watched Carole rummaging in a cupboard. When she yanked out a folded black apron and a few other things, her hand trembled.
What was going on with the woman? Did he need to keep an eye on her? Could her need to control her environment have gotten out of hand? Could she be a threat to Julia?
He glanced over at Julia, who watched Carole with narrowed eyes. “I’ll be fine. I can handle Carole. Go on back into the kitchen,” he murmured.
She nodded once, sharply, still staring at Carole. Then, without looking at him, she spun and hurried toward the kitchen.
During the dinner rush, Nico poured water, delivered baskets of fresh, hot bread, slid plates of food onto the tables and boxed up leftovers. He felt Carole’s eyes on him frequently, and was careful to focus his attention on the table and the patrons.
But whenever he exited the kitchen, he studied the hostess. Julia had good instincts -- Carole was damn good at her job. She appeared to know a lot of the customers, calling them by name. And no matter how many people waited for tables, she managed to smile at each of them and made them feel as if they were the only ones who mattered.
Julia was right -- Carole was a valuable employee.
But he’d still keep a close eye on the woman. Her reaction when she met him had been unusual. And that’s what he was looking for -- the unusual.
At one point, when no customers waited to be seated, Carole pulled her phone out and made a call. As she spoke, she stared at Nico. When he returned her look, Carole turned away.
It was a little after nine when he heard raised voices from a booth near the front of the room. Carole stood beside it, listening. A man’s voice rose until Nico could hear him all the way across the room.
“… damn bad food. I’m not paying for this slop.”
Nico headed that way, wondering what was going on. When he reached the table, he saw a beefy man in his sixties, red-faced, with his hand wrapped around an empty Old-Fashioned glass. From his complexion and his aggressiveness, Nico figured it wasn’t his first drink this evening. Sitting across from him was a thin, heavily-made-up woman whose hands trembled in her lap.
“Can I help you with this, Carole?” Nico said, his voice even. Polite.
She glanced at him. Shook her head. “No, I can handle it. Mr. and Mrs. Barrett are long-time customers.”
She turned her back to Nico, but he touched her shoulder. “There are people waiting to be seated,” he said. “I’ve got this.” He nodded at the angry customer. “I’m big and intimidating.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and he thought she was going to tell him to get lost. Finally, she said, “Of course. Thank you.”
He watched her walk away, her hands clenched at her sides. Why would she want to handle a belligerent drunk when he was happy to do it for her?
As she led a couple to a table on the other side of the room, she didn’t glance at him. But he felt waves of anger boiling off her. Hmm.
He turned to Mr. Barrett. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked.
“I’m not paying for that meal,” he said, pushing his empty plate away. “It was horribly cooked.”
“Why didn’t you say something when you got your meal?” Nico asked.
His face got redder. “Are you questioning me?”
“Of course not. Madeline’s has a policy of making things right for our customers. But we can’t do that unless you let us know. Your server would have been happy to replace your meal, but you didn’t say a word to him.”
“Henry, stop it,” the woman whispered. “You’re embarrassing yourself and me. You liked that steak. You said so several times. What are you trying to do?”
“I’m not paying for inferior food,” he bellowed.
By now the whole restaurant was watching. And so was Carole, scowling as she studied them.
“Fine, Mr. Barrett. I’ll have Carole put you on our list. May I help you out to your car?”
“What list are you talking about?” he asked, his voice far too loud.
“Our ‘Do Not Seat’ list. You’re disturbing our other diners and you embarrassed our hostess. Come on, I’ll help you to your car.”
Without waiting for him to respond, Nico hoisted him out of the booth. Barrett wobbled for a long moment, gripping the edge of the booth to steady himself. Then he staggered toward the door. Nico kept a firm hold on his elbow to make sure he didn’t fall.
