suit dealing with slow kitchen staff and impatient customers, he had greater sympathy for wait staff everywhere.
"Kitchen backed up again?" Danny topped off the mug of Straub's and handed it to Deacon.
"All night." Deacon took the glass and put it on the ridiculously tiny tray Tom insisted they use instead of just carrying the glasses like normal human beings. "We're out of stuffed mushrooms and the lobster special is almost gone, too. It's only seven-thirty."
Danny laughed. "Gonna be a long night. Glad I'm behind the bar tonight and not waiting tables."
There were lots of dissatisfied customers, and all of them seemed to be in Deacon's section. He'd only been waiting tables for a week, and was still getting used to the elaborate system Tom Lee insisted his wait staff use. Lee thought flourishes and furbelows would add class to his kitchen's adequate but not outstanding food.
Didn't he know The Evergreen was pretty much the only game in town? Unless you wanted to take your date to The Golden Corral or Fred's Chicken and Cream, the only other choices were fast food places and a couple of pizza and hoagie joints. The Evergreen was considered a "nice" restaurant only because it had white tablecloths and matching china on the tables.
"Waiter, excuse me." A portly man waved his fork at Deacon. "My fork is dirty."
"I'll get you another one right away." Deacon thought about adding a bow and a scrape, but decided the man and his equally rotund wife wouldn't appreciate his attempt at humor.
With that potential disaster thwarted, he headed back to the kitchen to see what was holding up the rest of his orders. Before he could get there, the Evergreen's hostess, Nancy, stopped him.
"I had to put another one in your section," she said apologetically. "She's in number 23."
Deacon didn't complain. It wasn't Nancy's fault. "I'll take care of it right away."
The Evergreen's huge, multi-page menu hid everything about the woman sitting at the table except for her hands. Deacon got out his notepad and pen, pausing just long enough to smooth back his hair. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"
"Yes, I'd like a--" The woman stopped when she dropped her menu, clearly as stunned to see him as he was her. It was Lisa. "What are you doing here?"
Her question was pretty silly since she'd seen him there before. "I work here."
"But I thought you worked at--" She stopped again, as though at a loss for words.
He'd help her out a little. "I work there, too."
She nodded quickly, switching her eyes away from his. The creamy skin at the base of her throat began to flush a dull crimson visible even in The Evergreen's dim lighting.
"A drink?" Deacon asked coldly. Her reaction to him was irritating and embarrassing. What did she think he was going to do to her? She was the one who'd effectively sent him behind bars. If anyone should be upset, it should be him.
"Coke, please," she whispered.
He left the table and headed back toward the bar to get the drink. When he returned, she looked a little calmer. Then he noticed the shredded remains of a paper napkin scattered on the table. He'd had enough.
"Lisa."
She jumped. She actually jumped. Deacon frowned, looking around the restaurant to make sure nobody else was paying attention to them.
"Maybe I should switch tables with Rhonda," he said.
"No." Lisa ventured a look at him. "I'm all right."
"Do you know what you'd like to have?" He asked formally. She told him quickly, and he wrote it all down. "All right. I'll go put your order in."
"Thank you," she called after him.
She'd spoken a little too loudly, making most of the heads in that section of the dining room turn to stare at her. Then at him, which he wouldn't have minded except for the whispering that followed it. So much for anonymity. Not in this small town.
The kitchen seemed to be catching up on things, which meant Lisa's salad was ready in just a few minutes. Steeling himself for another round of awkward silence
"Kitchen backed up again?" Danny topped off the mug of Straub's and handed it to Deacon.
"All night." Deacon took the glass and put it on the ridiculously tiny tray Tom insisted they use instead of just carrying the glasses like normal human beings. "We're out of stuffed mushrooms and the lobster special is almost gone, too. It's only seven-thirty."
Danny laughed. "Gonna be a long night. Glad I'm behind the bar tonight and not waiting tables."
There were lots of dissatisfied customers, and all of them seemed to be in Deacon's section. He'd only been waiting tables for a week, and was still getting used to the elaborate system Tom Lee insisted his wait staff use. Lee thought flourishes and furbelows would add class to his kitchen's adequate but not outstanding food.
Didn't he know The Evergreen was pretty much the only game in town? Unless you wanted to take your date to The Golden Corral or Fred's Chicken and Cream, the only other choices were fast food places and a couple of pizza and hoagie joints. The Evergreen was considered a "nice" restaurant only because it had white tablecloths and matching china on the tables.
"Waiter, excuse me." A portly man waved his fork at Deacon. "My fork is dirty."
"I'll get you another one right away." Deacon thought about adding a bow and a scrape, but decided the man and his equally rotund wife wouldn't appreciate his attempt at humor.
With that potential disaster thwarted, he headed back to the kitchen to see what was holding up the rest of his orders. Before he could get there, the Evergreen's hostess, Nancy, stopped him.
"I had to put another one in your section," she said apologetically. "She's in number 23."
Deacon didn't complain. It wasn't Nancy's fault. "I'll take care of it right away."
The Evergreen's huge, multi-page menu hid everything about the woman sitting at the table except for her hands. Deacon got out his notepad and pen, pausing just long enough to smooth back his hair. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"
"Yes, I'd like a--" The woman stopped when she dropped her menu, clearly as stunned to see him as he was her. It was Lisa. "What are you doing here?"
Her question was pretty silly since she'd seen him there before. "I work here."
"But I thought you worked at--" She stopped again, as though at a loss for words.
He'd help her out a little. "I work there, too."
She nodded quickly, switching her eyes away from his. The creamy skin at the base of her throat began to flush a dull crimson visible even in The Evergreen's dim lighting.
"A drink?" Deacon asked coldly. Her reaction to him was irritating and embarrassing. What did she think he was going to do to her? She was the one who'd effectively sent him behind bars. If anyone should be upset, it should be him.
"Coke, please," she whispered.
He left the table and headed back toward the bar to get the drink. When he returned, she looked a little calmer. Then he noticed the shredded remains of a paper napkin scattered on the table. He'd had enough.
"Lisa."
She jumped. She actually jumped. Deacon frowned, looking around the restaurant to make sure nobody else was paying attention to them.
"Maybe I should switch tables with Rhonda," he said.
"No." Lisa ventured a look at him. "I'm all right."
"Do you know what you'd like to have?" He asked formally. She told him quickly, and he wrote it all down. "All right. I'll go put your order in."
"Thank you," she called after him.
She'd spoken a little too loudly, making most of the heads in that section of the dining room turn to stare at her. Then at him, which he wouldn't have minded except for the whispering that followed it. So much for anonymity. Not in this small town.
The kitchen seemed to be catching up on things, which meant Lisa's salad was ready in just a few minutes. Steeling himself for another round of awkward silence
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