than it was anything she actually said or did.
The hostess seemed to have forgotten about Lila, who was just deciding to push her way back to Tom’s office when one of the waitresses came around the corner. Pausing at the podium behind which Jennifer reigned, the waitress glanced at Lila. Lila pretended not to notice and instead contemplated the threads of her coat.
"Wendi." Jennifer’s blue gaze flicked Lila’s way. "Pretty busy today?"
Wendi flipped her waist-length, chestnut braid over her shoulder. The uniform of white shirt and black skirt, which managed to make the rest of the staff look crisp and professional, fit her like she was an exotic dancer. She had the body to be one. The waiting area had suddenly grown very warm.
"Rilly." Wendi’s voice was a cliché.
Both women looked covertly at Lila. Jennifer seemed barely able to refrain from bursting out laughing, and Wendi was unable to keep a smirk from turning up her glossy lips. Lila had the uncomfortable feeling they were mocking her.
"Have you been able to find Tom?" Jennifer asked loudly, making certain Lila could hear. "Someone’s waiting for him."
"No, Jen, he’s not in the kitchen. He’s in his office, talking to Donna. They’ve been in there a really long time." Wendi lowered her voice theatrically, but still spoke clearly enough that Lila could hear her every word. "You know how long it always takes for him to talk to Donna."
Lila’s fingers curled against her palms. Her stomach, which had been impatiently growling a few minutes before, now began an uneasy flip-flopping. She forced a look of blank composure on her face; she didn’t want Jennifer and Wendi to think she was listening to them.
"I guess that’s why she’s head waitress." Wendi made a great show of studying her long, polished nails. "She sure gets a lot of on-the-job training."
Wendi and Jennifer shared a smirk then and both glanced sideways at Lila. She continued studying the menu, her coat, her fingernails, and anything that would give them the impression she was patiently waiting and nothing more. "Maybe someone should go knock on his door." Jennifer’s last word sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
Wendi rolled her eyes. "Not me, thanks."
Again, Lila struggled not to let her face show she was listening. Lila told herself she had no reason to be suspicious. After all, she trusted him. Didn’t she?
"Someone’s waiting for him." This time Jennifer said it loudly enough Lila couldn’t mistake the words were meant for her ears. The blonde hostess’ voice dropped, but not far enough. "Looks like a real charity case."
Lila’s stomach lurched to her throat. The room became suddenly, stiflingly hot. Charity case! The words hammered her eardrums hard enough to block out the rest of what the two women were saying. Charity case! The comment rang over and over, causing her head to spin.
Lila staggered to her feet. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her gaze from the red ooze that seemed to be swimming in her vision. She needed air, and she needed it fast. She needed to get away from The Foxfire.
"Can I help you?" Jennifer’s giggles seemed under control for the moment. She tapped her long nails against one of the plastic-coated menus.
"I’m afraid I can’t wait for Tom any longer." Lila’s voice trembled, and she clenched her nails into her palms. The sting gave her some strength. "Please tell him Lila couldn’t wait for him any more."
"Sure," Jennifer cooed. "You don’t look good, sweetie. You look like you need some air."
Lila bit her tongue to stifle a nasty retort. She hated being called "sweetie" by someone she didn’t even know. That Jennifer was obviously laughing at her distress only made matters worse.
"Just a little too warm," Lila bit out tersely.
As she pushed her way out the front doors, she thought she heard a cackle of nasty laughter behind her. The cold air hit her like a slap and rocked her head back. It felt wonderful.
She fought the hot tears slipping over her cheeks. If there had been a breeze, they might have dried quickly, but the air was frigid and still. The tears froze to her face as solidly as they froze in her heart.
It was five o’clock before Tom had a moment to sit down and breathe. The blizzard had messed up deliveries all over central Pennsylvania, and he’d had to make a lot of last-minute changes in the Saturday specials. Plus, the crowds had been overwhelming. The Foxfire had run out of onion soup, garlic bread, and