The Promise of Paradise - By Allie Boniface Page 0,44

sorting through napkins and tablecloths in the back. Then she filled two pitchers of ice water and walked into the dining room.

“Could we have some menus?”

“I asked for Absolut, not Stoli.”

“I thought tonight’s special was going to be chicken.”

Ash stopped and stared. Three-quarters of the restaurant was packed with people escaping the storm.

“Can you believe this?” Lacey whizzed by on her way to the kitchen. “I’ve never seen a night like this.”

Neither had Ash.

“Came in for the meatloaf,” June Frisbie confided, as she stopped by the elderly woman’s table. “Saw it on the specials board outside and couldn’t resist.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ash said. “Don’t know if there’s enough back there for everyone, but I’ll make sure to set aside an extra-large serving for you.” She bent closer and aimed her voice at the woman’s hearing aid. “Make sure to save some for Dobber and Jones.”

The woman broke out in a huge smile at the mention of her two beloved poodles. “Oh, I will.” She patted Ash on the wrist. “Dear, you’re the best thing that’s happened to this place since Marty took it over. I hope you’ll be staying a while.”

Ash moved on without answering.

“Ash!” A heavyset man dressed in head-to-toe camouflage waved her over.

“Hi, guys.” She nodded a hello to the three farmers, portly and red-cheeked. “Nice to see you.” She glanced at their empty table. “Need a pitcher of Bud?”

The men nodded in unison. “Better make it two.”

“Coming right up.”

She headed for the bar and checked in with J.T. “What do you need?”

“Another set of hands would be nice.”

She cracked a smile. “Wish I could.” But she slipped behind the bar and started pouring drinks and filling pitchers. “Give you a few minutes, anyway.”

Lacey flashed back to the bar, slim legs trotting faster than Ash had ever seen them move. The young girl loaded up a tray, grabbed some cocktail napkins, and took off again.

“She’s working her tail off tonight,” Ash noted, glad to see it.

“Nice tail it is, too,” one of the guys at the bar guffawed.

Ash pointed a finger in his direction. “Watch it,” she said with a serious squint of the eyes. She recognized him but couldn’t come up with a name. Give me another hour and I’ll remember it for the rest of the summer. Once again, she was glad the photographic memory that had served her so well in college was coming in handy.

“Ash?” The new Blues and Booze hostess, a meek woman of forty, shuffled over. Behind her, a crowd of people jostled for space in the restaurant’s narrow lobby. “We just got a party of twelve. Can we take them?”

“Let me see.” She surveyed the dining room. “I think Gus Masterson’ll move if I ask him to, and the Wallaces just decided they’re getting take-out instead of staying, so we’ll push those tables together and…”

* * *

“There.” Three hours later, Ash set down the bill for table nineteen and exhaled. Her feet ached. Her throat was raw. Her shirt stuck to her lower back. Her hair had fallen from its ponytail and hung around her face. She rolled her neck. Well, at least the rush had kept her mind off anything except running orders, replacing napkins, and filling empty glasses. What next? She looked around for a table to clear, a new party to seat. But the room was quiet. Finally.

She took a few minutes to drink a tall glass of water and then found Lacey in the kitchen. “Are we actually finished?”

The girl smiled. Her eyes shone with fatigue. “I think so. God, I never saw such a rush.”

“Me either.”

Lacey pulled a wad of bills from her pocket. “Definitely over a hundred.”

“Good for you.” Ash sagged against the salad bar, exhausted.

Lacey eyed her. “You okay? You were running like crazy tonight, too.”

“Tell me about it.”

The college student pulled off her apron and headed for the door. “You’re good at this, you know. I mean, I know you’re probably not staying around Paradise forever, but still…” She shrugged. “You’d be good at running a restaurant. If you ever wanted to.”

Ash didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She did like being in charge. She liked the social part of the job. And there was a lot less stress involved in keeping customers happy than memorizing cases or prepping briefs, even on a night like tonight. But a lifetime of it? She thought she’d probably go a little stir-crazy.

“You can head home, Lace,” she said without answering