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inspect. “For some reason Mr. M. is hanging around. I think that’s part of the reason Chase is on edge. Just a word of caution, though.” Sarah placed the dishes on her tray. “If you want a stress-free evening, steer clear of Chase.” She turned on her heel and sashayed out of the kitchen, her ponytail swinging.
    Heck, Lacy didn’t need a nineteen-year-old cheerleader to tell her that. Unfortunately, she couldn’t manage to stay away from him.
    She headed back out to the dining room to check on her diners and noticed her two cleared tables now had people at them. The two-topper had an elderly couple who’d placed their menus down and sipped from their water glasses. Lacy took that as a sign they wanted to order. After taking care of both tables, she fed the orders into the machine, surreptitiously peering about for Chase. He wasn’t on the floor, and after Sarah’s warning Lacy’s suspicions were piqued. During business hours, he was almost always on the floor.
    The dining room buzzed with energy with the clinking of glasses and murmur of soft voices. McDermott’s was always full, keeping Lacy on her toes and making the evening fly by. She enjoyed what she did, even if the pay wasn’t that great. With a glance around, she noticed a man at table three drumming his fingers on the white tablecloth. The people had yet to receive the Veal Osso Buco Ravioli appetizer they’d ordered. Not wanting an irate diner on her hands, Lacy went to the kitchen to harass the cooks.
    “Henry, I need the veal ravioli for table three. They’re getting antsy.”
    The head chef didn’t even glance up from inspecting the dishes. “It’s coming, it’s coming.” He turned his head and shouted to be heard over the noise of the kitchen. “Suzanne, I need a time for that Osso Buco app.”
    “Uh, Chef.” Suzanne, the cook assigned to the appetizer station, approached Henry with a nervous ringing of her hands. Suzanne had always been a twitchy cook. “I was just in the fridge to get the spinach to sauté it and I noticed there isn’t any.”
    Henry jerked around to face Suzanne, who stood like a woman waiting for her execution. “How the hell can we be out of spinach?” He glanced at his sports watch. “It’s only seven-fifteen.”
    Suzanne sputtered and looked around. “I-I don’t know. The dish is ready, I just need the spinach.”
    “Ah, shit!” Henry, in a rare show of outrage, slammed a dish on the counter, breaking it in three sections.
    Lacy backed up a step, more to avoid shards of glass than Henry’s temper.
    “Just plate the damn dish and bring it here,” he barked out and Suzanne rushed away to her station. Henry turned his irate glare on Lacy. “You’re just going to have to apologize and tell them there’s no spinach. How the hell are we out of spinach?” he asked fiercely again.
    Poor Henry. Lacy didn’t have an answer for him. It wasn’t her job to check the supplies. Being the General Manager, Chase was in charge of that. She only had to deliver the food that was ordered. Was Chase slacking on his duties? Was that why his father hung around? No, that couldn’t be the reason. Chase might have been a lot of things, but a slacker he was not. No one at the restaurant worked harder than Chase. McDermott’s didn’t often run out of food in the middle of a dinner service, but it wasn’t completely unheard of. Maybe they were just having a bad run tonight.
    Even though she told herself that, something nagged at the back of her mind. Could they have a dishonest employee on their hands? She did a quick inventory of all the staff yet, couldn’t come up with anyone who would steal from the restaurant. But appearances could be deceiving. Just because someone didn’t seem dishonest didn’t mean they weren’t.
    She grabbed the ravioli, sans spinach, and carried the plate to her impatient diners. Should she confront Chase about a possible theft? Would it be out of place for her to do so? Even though