Bundle of Trouble - By Diana Orgain Page 0,15
I, on the other hand, didn’t have the slightest clue about glue guns and glitter.
José served my lunch, which I wolfed down. The beef dish would have been too spicy for me on its own, but the potato torte and avocado mellowed out the spices.
Would the spices affect Laurie later? I hoped not.
I studied the staff. When he wasn’t waiting on me, José was busy hitting on the hostess. She snubbed him, just like she had me.
Where was the manager? I could ask him about George.
By the time my bill rolled around, I felt satiated and sleepy. I fought the weight of my eyelids and the impulse to run out and check on the parking meter. Instead, I asked José to direct me to the manager.
His face creased with concern. “Was everything all right?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
He seemed unconvinced. “May I tell him your name?”
“Kate Connolly.”
His eyes widened, then his face flushed again. “One minute.”
I watched as he hurried through swinging doors. Why was he so flustered?
I pulled Laurie out of her stroller. Still sleeping? I gently rubbed her face. She twitched her feet. Good. Still breathing.
After several minutes, José reappeared, followed by a disarmingly handsome man. He was about five-foot-ten, with black hair. His eyes were so blue I wondered if he was wearing colored contacts. He was sharply dressed in slacks and a blue button-down shirt, accented by a burgundy tie. The only thing that contradicted his elegant style was a five o’clock shadow. Which, while some consider in fashion, has always struck me as unkempt.
Maybe he had a rough night?
He sauntered over to me and casually rested both hands on the table. “Rich Hanlen. May I help you, Ma’am?”
Ma’am, was it? I sighed. I guess when you have a baby, no one calls you “Miss” anymore.
“Is George Connolly working today?”
He straightened, folding his arms across his chest. “George? I don’t believe—”
“Michelle Avery told me he worked here.”
He scratched the stubble on his chin, then glanced around the restaurant. “Why don’t you come back to my office?”
I bundled Laurie into her stroller, not bothering with any of the straps as the manager was already through the restaurant and at the kitchen door. I maneuvered the stroller toward him, the front wheel catching on a chair and further delaying me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rich take a deep breath. I struggled to free the wheel.
Why did I feel rushed? Couldn’t he wait a second for a woman with a baby?
I caught up to him then followed him through the kitchen doors and down a narrow hallway to a dark, cramped room. To call the space an office was a joke. My human filing cabinet cubicle was larger than this.
“Is this your baby?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered.
Why else would I be lugging an infant around?
Up close, the colored lenses made his eyes seem like they were floating. Eerie.
He reached out to touch Laurie. “She’s tiny.”
I moved her stroller before his hand could reach her cheek. His eyes locked on mine. We stared at each other for a moment, sizing each other up.
No way was Mr. Creepy touching my baby.
He shifted subtly, understanding. Don’t mess with baby cub when Mama Lion’s around.
“How old is she?”
“Almost two weeks.”
He looked me up and down. “You look pretty good for a chick that just popped out a baby.”
What happened to “ma’am”? Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to follow this guy into a dark room. Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe.
He circled around behind me. “So, you know Michelle?”
Was he checking out my ass?
I shifted, forcing him to face me. He smirked.
“I know Michelle.” I said, “You know George?”
He nodded, clearly enjoying himself.
I imagined him asking the female staff “to his office,” then copping a feel.
Hoping to intimidate him a little, I pulled a notebook from the diaper bag that was now serving double-duty as my purse.
Oops. No pen.
I eyed the pencil cup on his desk.
If I leaned in to grab one, I’d give him a shot of my milk-engorged cleavage. I flipped opened my notebook and hoped he wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t actually writing anything down.
In my most official voice I said, “I need to reach George. Can you tell me when he’s scheduled to come in?”
He leered. “I haven’t seen him in a while. I don’t know what Michelle told you, but he’s not on any schedule or anything.”
“What does he do here?”
“This and that.”
Why all the secrecy about George?
“How long have you been managing