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The waitress arrived, and Trey ordered a Stella Artois. When she went to fetch it, Trey said, “The damn traffic was so horrible, I got out and walked the last couple of miles. I still think I beat the Uber I was riding in. I wish this city had something like a subway. It’s getting busy enough for it, and the traffic could use the relief.”
“There’s the light rail. New stops are opening all the time.”
“Yeah, it’s great if you want cheap transport to the airport, but, honestly, it hasn’t been all the useful to me for everyday travel.” The waitress poured his beer and set the quarter-full bottle beside it. “The Capitol Hill stop wouldn’t have gotten me any closer than my Uber.”
“We’ll need a few minutes before we order,” Connor told the waitress.
“No rush. I’ll check back soon.”
She hurried away.
Trey eyed him. “Really, I feel like a schmuck. I begged your forgiveness, and what do I do right off the bat? Show up really late. I should have known better. Seattle’s become as bad as San Francisco these days with the traffic.”
Connor wanted to tell him he should have left earlier. He would have said it to Miranda. Or Steve. But the situation was what it was. What good would it do to make the guy feel worse than he obviously already did?
“It’s okay. Where were you coming from?”
It was a simple question, but Connor couldn’t help but notice that Trey pondered for a few seconds before answering.Why does he need to think about his response?“Green Lake,” he finally said, naming a northside neighborhood built around a small, but lovely lake that was a big draw for walkers, runners, and cyclists.
“Oh really? I don’t remember you telling me you lived up there.”I don’t remember you telling me much about yourself at all, in fact.
“Yeah, I have a townhouse a couple blocks from the park. Comes in handy. I like to run and the trail around the lake is perfect.”
Connor nodded. And then, not quite sure why he did it, but figuring it was because he was rankled by Trey’s tardiness and the feeling Connor had he was lying when he said where he lived, he mentioned, “Then you must know Nadine’s? Best brunch in Seattle!” Connor’s heart beat a little faster as he smiled.Why are you doing this?
“Sure! Their blueberry pancakes are to die for.”
Connor was ready to get up and leave.
There was no Nadine’s, at least not that he was aware of, in Seattle, let alone in the Green Lake neighborhood. It felt like someone had put a couple ounces of lead in his gut.Why? Why do people have to lie?
“Wait. You said Nadine’s? I’m sorry. They went out of business a couple years ago. And they were in Ballard! You must mean Evangeline, on Woodlawn? I agree—they really do have one of the best brunches in town.”
Connor was a little relieved. Maybe Trey had seen the doubt on Connor’s face and thought fast, but Connor was forced to admit to himself that it was probably just a simple mistake. Evangeline was a real place. He’d been there himself and had the best Eggs Benedict of his life.
He let it go, chalking his apprehension up to nerves, to not understanding.
Things, surprisingly, went very well after that. They had two great meals and shared an outstanding bottle of sauvignon blanc. The wine loosened their tongues and Connor found out a lot more about Trey—he was from a broken home in Indiana, where he’d been raised by a single dad; he had to work his way through Indiana University and then DePaul Law in Chicago. He hadn’t made partner, but did very well with Garner, Gottlieb, and Wright, a firm specializing in personal injury claims downtown. He’d chuckled and said, “They call us ambulance chasers because we have TV ads and work on contingency, but the truth is we actually help people. You wouldn’t believe the shit insurance companies pull to get out of paying a claim. I like to think we only help people get what’s coming to them, often in the aftermath of horrible losses.”
Connor had told him more about his work and about the Hulu series based on his books, a project he was particularly proud of and excited about. “They’ve greenlit two seasons already, which will be based on my first two mysteries. If it takes off, who knows how long it could go on?”
“Sitting on a gold mine!”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But it’ll be cool to see the stuff I dreamed up alone at my desk come to life, especially with Margo Martindale starring.”
“Big stuff. I’m impressed. You’re a star.”
They talked about their families and discovered they had in common very humble beginnings.
Connor enjoyed himself so much he was surprised when they were finished, the check on the table between them, and the hour just past ten.
Trey grabbed the little black rectangle off the table’s surface. “This time’s on me.”
Connor held up a hand. He wanted this to be casual. He reached in his jeans’ pocket for his wallet. “Why don’t we split it?”
“No, no. You paid last time.”
“But that was, like, half of what this dinner cost,” Connor protested.
