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“No kidding. For real?” I giggle. He even has a name out of an old movie. “So, can you?”
Bernard bends over until his face is level with my own. “Can I what, ma—”
“It’s Miss. Or better yet, just Annie.” With my foot, I push on the leg of the chair next to me until it pushes out from the table a foot or two. “Sit,” I whisper.
“Um—”
I keep my eyes on Owen—I cannot miss a thing. “Sit down, Berny.”
He does, and I give him a quick glance, only to see his Adam’s apple ping-ponging from the top to the bottom of his neck. “It’s not my break, Miss. I shouldn’t.”
“I’m your table. Aren’t you here to help me?”
“Yes, ma—Miss.”
“Okay,” I say, a catch in my breath. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not my date. Nope—not my date, but it is my career. It ismyOwen. “See that table.” I lift my chin in three bobbing motions. And Berny is a smart ol’ guy because he gets it.
“Table twelve. Three down.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What about them, Miss?”
“I’m going to let you in on top-secret information. Have you heard of that advice column Ask Annie?”
I’m surprised when he nods. My column has reached far and wide. I have made our little online paper known. Margo, my editor, told me as much. I know from the letters that I receive that readers are finding me from hundreds of miles away. So why not Berny?
“For real?” I smirk and whisper. “That’s me. I’m Annie.”
“You? But you’re a child.”
I full-on look at Bernard now. “Nota child. And I research. I can fact-check like nobody’s business. I’m writing this new piece—testing love advice I’ve given.”
“Oh, I know. The One Experiment.” He rests his chin in one hand, his elbow on the table, and peers across the room with me toward Owen.
“Owen is my friend. The ladies write him, and I weed through them. Then Owen goes on a date trying out my advice. Tonight we’re working on first impressions. But it would be so helpful to have some ears over there.”
Bernard gives one curt nod, then pushes himself out from under the table. His chair scrapes on the hard floor, and the noise is deafening. Multiple sets of eyes are on us now—including Owen’s.
I give him a full-teeth grin since Belle isn’t looking and take a sip of my sparkling water. Owen turns back to his date, and I feel the slightest ping of…something… not jealousy. It couldn’t be jealousy. Butsomething. Something that wishes he were still looking my way. That he’d return the funny smile I just gave him.
I lean back in my seat, watching as Bernard weaves his way through the tables until he gets to the one right next to where Owen and Belle sit. He’s good. He isn’t interrupting theirconversation to ask if they need something. He’s cleaning the already clean table next to them while he listens.
I might have to bring Berny with me whenever Owen goes out. Or maybe we’ll have all of his first dates here.
Berny wipes and wipes at the table… until someone two tables down asks him something. He’s up with a quick glance my way, and then he’s gone to the back. He’s back quick as a wink, though, with a fancy dish of something for the man, and then he hustles his way back to me.
Without being persuaded this time, he scoots into the chair next to me. “They’re talking about their families. She’s an only child, and he is telling her about growing up in a family of boys.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m assuming Owen asked about her family. That was step number three tonight.”
“He seems to be enjoying himself. As does she. Do you need me to record anything?”
“Record? No.” I purse my lips. I couldn’t do that… Could I? “No. That won’t be necessary. Thank you.” I can’t lie. I feel a little like Batman with Alfred by my side. Together, we are invincible. “If possible, just stay close in the vicinity. Let me know if you hear anything important.”
I get another curt nod, and then he’s off.
My peanut cucumber salad has gone warm and mushy by the time I’m done watching Owen and Belle. How long should a first date last? Because this one is on hour two. I guess James and I went out for a couple hours, but not all in one place. My heinie is going sore in this hard chair, and I’m about ready to starve to death.
