AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At the table in one of her favorite cafés just outside the French Quarter, Samantha Wheeler checked her watch. She was running late because her dinner with Caroline had gone longer than she’d planned, but then that was more usual than not. She and Caroline never seemed to run out of conversation. They were old friends from college, one of the few she’d kept after her first marriage had dissolved, so they kept in touch, usually meeting on the last Thursday of the month for dinner and drinks and just to catch up.
Tonight had been no different.
“I really need to run,” Sam said, finishing the last of her wine, taking out her phone and texting her husband to tell him she was on her way. “I hate to cut this short, but Ty’s with the boys and he’s got an early flight in the morning, so I’d better get home and take over so he can get a few hours’ sleep. He’s going to meet us at Disney in a couple of days.”
“Vacation?” Caroline asked.
“Yeah.” It was just a little lie. They’d tried to leave earlier, but their work schedules and flights had held them up longer than planned. “A bit of R and R. We’d hoped to go earlier but work and life got in the way.”
Caroline was nodding, streaked hair shimmering under the low lights. “Oh, don’t I know. I’ve got to go, too. I’ve got an early meeting in the morning and Lars gets a little antsy if I’m like two minutes late.” She rolled her expressive eyes—big and blue, the lids shaded a smoky gray. Lars was the most recent of a string of boyfriends, all of whom had been on the possessive side, at least as far as Samantha was concerned. Caroline had been married for ten years, divorced her husband for cheating, and then had taken up with a series of boyfriends looking for “Mr. Right” or “Mr. Okay,” who, in Sam’s estimation, were no better than her husband had been. In fact, some had been worse.
Caroline’s phone buzzed and she checked it. “Oh, Geez. Guess who’s asking where I am?” She smiled coyly, as if his overt possessiveness was cute. Sam had already told her what she’d thought about a man checking up onhiswoman, and it hadn’t gone over too well, so she held her tongue.
“I’d better hustle.” Caroline opened her wallet and reached for her credit card when her phone buzzed again. “Oops.” She shoved her card back into its slot, pulled out a couple of bills, and put them on the table. “You mind settling up?” she asked, slipping her arms through her jacket, standing, and bending to give Sam a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.
“No problem.”
“You’re the best! Okay, good,ciao!”
Samantha was already fishing in her purse while Caroline, in heels and a short skirt, wended her way agilely through the tables, sidestepping patrons and waiters and hurrying through the door.
At that moment, someone fell against the back of her chair, then clipped the edge of the table, jostling it. Plates with crusts of uneaten bread slid and smashed onto the floor. Glasses toppled. Ice cubes skittered across a widening pool of water. Flatware followed, clattering loudly.
The surrounding conversations ended abruptly.
“So sorry,” a gruff voice apologized. A bearded old man with a walker. Wearing a cap and horn-rimmed glasses, he looked confused. “Didn’t mean to . . .”
“Oh, dear!” a woman in her seventies at a nearby table muttered.
“It’s okay,” Samantha said to the bearded man, who had somehow managed to stay on his feet.
He doffed his cap and shuffled off, pushing the walker toward the front of the café. A waiter held the door open for him while a busboy hurried to her table and started sopping up the spillage with a heavy towel. A waitress with her hair pulled back in a long braid was right behind him. “Get the mop. We don’t want anyone slipping.” She was already swiping at the tabletop. “I’ve got the table, you get the floor.”
“Here,” said the seventy-ish woman at the neighboring table, and handed the waitress a spoon that had slid under her chair as the busboy returned with a rolling bucket and mop.
All in all it was chaos for the next five minutes.
“I’m late,” Sam said to the waitress once the table was cleared and dry and the busboy had swabbed the area after picking up glass. “Would you mind?” She handed her credit card to the girl with the braid.
“Oh, sure. No problem.” She took the card and made her way to the bar area where she totaled the bill and ran the credit card as the busboy pushed the mop and bucket out of the dining area. People at nearby tables began talking again and the waitress returned with Sam’s credit card and receipt. “Is this”—she motioned to the soggy bills on the table—“a tip?”
“Uh-huh.” It was more than she would normally leave, but she just wanted to get out and she figured the wait staff deserved the extra cash for all the commotion.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” Sam grabbed her jacket and purse and headed for the door.
Outside it was cool and dark, streetlights glowing, signs in other restaurants and shops adding illumination. She’d parked two streets over in a lot and was halfway there when she reached for her phone.
It wasn’t in the exterior pocket where she always kept it, so she figured she’d tossed it into the larger space in her bag. Riffling around inside, her fingers touched lipstick tubes, her wallet, and keys. No phone. “What the devil?” She slowed. Had she left it on the table? Was it knocked off and had it possibly skittered across the floor in all of the confusion? She remembered texting Ty and then what? Had she just left it on the table?
Well, crap!
Just to make sure she hadn’t missed it in the bag, she pressed the button on her watch that was linked to the phone and heard a soft beep.
