the dog rubbed noses. "Besides . . ." She looked at me over Doc's head, "you're trying to change the subject."
"The subject is that there is no subject. You're not going to find out anything about Brad by following him around. Nothing useful, anyway."
Eve's lips thinned. "Well, I found out Valerie is following Brad when she promised she wouldn't. That might be useful."
"Or not." The clock was ticking and, Weasel hunt or no Weasel hunt, I needed to get to the restaurant. Aside from setting up my workstation, I needed to take care of my skirt. I plucked it away from my legs, and it immediately settled back into place.
I had to move, and I had to move quickly. I could think of only one way to placate Eve and send her home.
"I'll tell you what . . ." I heaved a sigh. Even before I did, I think Eve knew I was about to surrender. She smiled.
I pretended not to notice.
"I'll do some digging," I promised. "But not tonight. Tomorrow. On my lunch hour. I'll get on the computer at work and see what I can find out about Brad. Until then, promise me you'll steer clear."
"Cross my heart." Eve did, and she crossed Doc's, too, just for good measure. "And if you find out anything we can use to nail that sucker to the wall—"
"You'll be the first to know. Really. But right now . . ." I gulped down my misgivings and started walking. When Eve fell into step at my side, I held her back with one hand. "Not you. You're not coming anywhere near Bellywasher's tonight."
"I just want to get a bottle of Pellegrino for Doc. I swear I won't confront Brad. I'll duck into the kitchen, take the water into your office, and—"
"It's not Brad I'm worried about." We were near the restaurant now, and I stopped so that Eve would have to, too.
"It's you," I told her. "I don't want you anywhere near the place when it goes up in smoke."
Q WHAT'S THAT SAYING ABOUT THE BEST LAID PLANS?
My plan was to get into the kitchen as quickly as I could and try and get myself organized. Right after I was done saying a whole bunch of prayers.
No such luck.
No sooner had the front door of Bellywasher's closed behind me than I found out I wasn't alone.
"Hi, Annie. I'm glad you're here. I've been waiting for you." Kegan popped out from behind the sandalwood screen that separated the entry area of the restaurant from the spot where we had our tables. He gave me that shy smile of his, the one that made him look like a kid. The weather was a tad warmer this week than it had been the first night of class, and he'd topped off his rumpled khakis with a raggy and well-worn T-shirt.
Don't Panic, Eat Organic.
I recognized the phrase as something he'd said to Brad the week before.
Kegan's cheeks were as red as the tomato on his shirt must once have been. "I was hoping we could talk," he said. "You know, before class starts."
I gulped down the spurt of mortification that brought back the ugly scene of the week before. I had hoped the incident was behind us and wondered how many others of our students would show up tonight and demand a refund. Didn't it figure, on the one night Jim wasn't there to charm them into changing their minds.
My shoulders drooped. "You're quitting. I can't blame you. What Eve said about Brad, that was really out of line. But if you give us another chance—"
His chuckle cut me off. "Gosh, Annie, you're so considerate. Always thinking about other people and how they feel. That's really nice, but trust me, it's not what I want to talk to you about. I want to talk to you . . . you know . . . about greening up the restaurant."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Right before my breath stuck in my throat. That was because I glanced at the clock that hung above the bar. Since I'd taken the job at Bellywasher's, I'd learned there was something in the industry called bar time . That meant our clock was set twenty
"The subject is that there is no subject. You're not going to find out anything about Brad by following him around. Nothing useful, anyway."
Eve's lips thinned. "Well, I found out Valerie is following Brad when she promised she wouldn't. That might be useful."
"Or not." The clock was ticking and, Weasel hunt or no Weasel hunt, I needed to get to the restaurant. Aside from setting up my workstation, I needed to take care of my skirt. I plucked it away from my legs, and it immediately settled back into place.
I had to move, and I had to move quickly. I could think of only one way to placate Eve and send her home.
"I'll tell you what . . ." I heaved a sigh. Even before I did, I think Eve knew I was about to surrender. She smiled.
I pretended not to notice.
"I'll do some digging," I promised. "But not tonight. Tomorrow. On my lunch hour. I'll get on the computer at work and see what I can find out about Brad. Until then, promise me you'll steer clear."
"Cross my heart." Eve did, and she crossed Doc's, too, just for good measure. "And if you find out anything we can use to nail that sucker to the wall—"
"You'll be the first to know. Really. But right now . . ." I gulped down my misgivings and started walking. When Eve fell into step at my side, I held her back with one hand. "Not you. You're not coming anywhere near Bellywasher's tonight."
"I just want to get a bottle of Pellegrino for Doc. I swear I won't confront Brad. I'll duck into the kitchen, take the water into your office, and—"
"It's not Brad I'm worried about." We were near the restaurant now, and I stopped so that Eve would have to, too.
"It's you," I told her. "I don't want you anywhere near the place when it goes up in smoke."
Q WHAT'S THAT SAYING ABOUT THE BEST LAID PLANS?
My plan was to get into the kitchen as quickly as I could and try and get myself organized. Right after I was done saying a whole bunch of prayers.
No such luck.
No sooner had the front door of Bellywasher's closed behind me than I found out I wasn't alone.
"Hi, Annie. I'm glad you're here. I've been waiting for you." Kegan popped out from behind the sandalwood screen that separated the entry area of the restaurant from the spot where we had our tables. He gave me that shy smile of his, the one that made him look like a kid. The weather was a tad warmer this week than it had been the first night of class, and he'd topped off his rumpled khakis with a raggy and well-worn T-shirt.
Don't Panic, Eat Organic.
I recognized the phrase as something he'd said to Brad the week before.
Kegan's cheeks were as red as the tomato on his shirt must once have been. "I was hoping we could talk," he said. "You know, before class starts."
I gulped down the spurt of mortification that brought back the ugly scene of the week before. I had hoped the incident was behind us and wondered how many others of our students would show up tonight and demand a refund. Didn't it figure, on the one night Jim wasn't there to charm them into changing their minds.
My shoulders drooped. "You're quitting. I can't blame you. What Eve said about Brad, that was really out of line. But if you give us another chance—"
His chuckle cut me off. "Gosh, Annie, you're so considerate. Always thinking about other people and how they feel. That's really nice, but trust me, it's not what I want to talk to you about. I want to talk to you . . . you know . . . about greening up the restaurant."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Right before my breath stuck in my throat. That was because I glanced at the clock that hung above the bar. Since I'd taken the job at Bellywasher's, I'd learned there was something in the industry called bar time . That meant our clock was set twenty
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