because it made people look at us, and I hated when people looked at me.
He gave a low whistle. “You know, Rolling Stone hated my first album, and even they weren’t as tough an audience as you.”
“Who, me?” I pressed my hand to my chest and gave him a sunny smile. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m easy like Sunday morning.” The second I saw the glint in his eye, I wanted to snatch the words back. “I mean like the old Motown—”
“Uh-uh.” He wagged a finger at me. “I heard it, and you shouldn’t confess that kind of stuff on public streets.”
“Oh, shut up.” I fought the smile tugging at my lips, but I could tell I wasn’t fooling him. “Let’s go look at this old restaurant.” We walked another half block to the address, and I let him inside. “I’ll show you what I’m thinking,” I said, leading him toward the center. I walked him through the possibilities for the stage, bar, and kitchen service. We toured the kitchen space and returned to the dining area. “What do you think?”
“I like it.” There was a hesitation in his voice.
“But you don’t love it?”
He shook his head. “I’m about to sound high maintenance, I know. This is the first place I could truly imagine working for the Turnaround, but I’m not totally sure.”
“The Turnaround?” It was the first time I’d heard him say it. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Yeah. You like it?”
“I do, actually.” It felt kind of perfect. “Is it a metaphor?”
“Yeah. In jazz, the turnaround is a passage at the end of a section that leads to the next section. Feels like my life right now.”
It suited him and his club.
“So I like this space.” He turned to survey it again in a slow circle. “But do you have any other places we could look at before I decide?”
“A couple more. Let’s walk over to Gallier.” There was a spot three blocks down from Mary’s Place that I thought he might like.
“Sounds good.”
We turned onto Dauphine, and he seemed content to take in the buildings. Rows of brightly colored houses alternated with small shops and cafés. I made sure we were on the opposite side of the street from Mary’s Place. There was no way he would know that I lived right above the restaurant, but even though it made no sense, I didn’t want him walking in front of my house. The idea made me feel weird, like inviting a client into my living room. I wanted to keep business separate from my personal life.
We moved at his pace, stopping when he did to study window displays or pet a dog over a white picket fence in front of a bright teal house.
It would have been a great plan, except when we reached the block with my building, my stomach growled. Loudly. So loudly that Miles whipped his head toward me with wide eyes. “Miss Jones, we need to feed you.”
“It’s fine. I can eat when we’re done.” My stomach revved like a farm tractor.
“Sorry, that’s going to ruin my concentration.” Miles shot me a crooked smile. “That place looks good. Let’s get some food in you.”
He waved at Miss Mary’s, of course. Why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he invite himself to the one place I wanted to keep strictly Miles-free? It wasn’t enough to let him into the neighborhood? I demanded of the universe.
I tried to distract him. “Seriously, don’t worry. My stomach doesn’t know what it’s talking about. Ignore it. Let’s look at the next place.” Why didn’t you go down Burgundy, you huge dummy?
“To be honest, I’m pretty hungry myself,” he said. “Does this place have bad reviews or something?”
No. Just an owner who knows who you are and is going to ask me a million questions later about why we’re together. “No, it’s great.”
“Good. Hard to find bad food in this town. Let’s go.” And he crossed the street.
I froze for about three seconds, trying to think if there was any way to derail him without turning this into more of a thing, but I couldn’t come up with a reason, so I hurried to catch up.
“Hey, Ellie,” Nora, the hostess, said as I walked in. “You can go ahead and take your usual spot.”
Miles’s eyebrows went up. “Your usual spot?”
“Booth in the back corner.” I led him to it and slid in.
“So not only do you like it here, you like it well enough to have a usual spot.”