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We got into a rhythm,and soon Cricket had a better handle on things. Her anxiety had diminished a fraction, though it still radiated off her. We hadn’t had a chance to get to know one another better, but what had happened to her wasn’t something I’d push for. People needed to tell their story in their own time. Most women who ended up at Paths didn’t have a particularly pretty one.
I delivered an order to the window and grinned when I saw who was next. “Timothy.”
“Hello, Trish.” His brass name plate and badge glinted in the sun. The uniform was as immaculate as ever.
An odd noise came from Cricket. She bolted from the truck without a word.
“Cricket,” I called, but the door swung on its hinges where she left it open. I peered outside to see her racing down the sidewalk at a full sprint.
“Everything okay?” Timothy asked.
“I don’t know,” I said wearily, closing the door. “She, uh—” I stopped myself from telling him she was new at Paths of Purpose. He didn’t know I lived there either. “She’s new. It’s been a rough first day.”
That explanation seemed to satisfy him. “Did you ever talk to Detective McCormick? About the catering?”
“We’re going to meet next week.”
“Good. Can I get a special and a few of those mini-quiches?”
Officer Wilson was a big guy. Muscular. A man’s man. It was difficult to imagine him eating mini-quiches. Unless . . .
“Do you have a lunch date?”
His face turned scarlet. “No. No,” he said quickly. “I’m trying to branch out.”
I tilted my head, not certain I believed him. “If you say so.”
“I like your other food, so I might like those too.”
What a high compliment. Knowing I’d inspired him to taste new food was exactly why I’d wanted my food truck.
“Are you here to socialize or serve food?” Mr. Hardaway shouted from about five customers back.
A beat of silence followed, and I grinned when everyone in line craned their necks to look at him.
“I’ll find out all about your day when it’s your turn,” I said. He mumbled something to himself. “You must have something important to tell me.”
“Yeah. I want my cake. The chocolate.”
“You’ll have it,” I promised.
“Tough crowd,” Timothy said.
“I’d better get on it.” I quickly made his food and took extra care to make sure the quiches and spinach salad looked pretty.
“See you later.”
“Four pieces of chocolate,”Mr. Hardaway said grumpily.
“I can do better than that.”
I grabbed the box with his name on it and lifted the lid for him to see inside.
“A whole cake?”
“All for you.” I pointed at his name.
He made an awkward face, as if he wasn’t sure what to do now that he had nothing to complain about.
