Ted Hendricks.
âActually, I needed both Mindy and Sasha last night. So it was a blessing that The Glass Slipper had unexpectedly closed.â I didnât mention that the overflow came from the storeâs closure and cancelled class.
The other end of the line was quiet.
âAre you done yelling at me?â I quipped. âBecause I have other things to do.â
He must have recovered. âYou havenât heard me yell, not yet. Anyway, stop messing with my participants.â The line clicked off before I could respond.
If this was the way he treated all his host business owners, no wonder he had trouble placing people even with the enticement of free labor. No one wanted to work with a jerk belittling them for helping out. After this was over, I was finding out who managed the Work Today program and filing a formal complaint about their program director. My voice alone might not be able to make a difference, but maybe I wasnât the first to protest.
Emma had chased away the gulls from the half-eaten fish and was nosing around the corpse, trying to decide if she should claim it for dinner. I called her away. I didnât need my dog smelling like dead fish. Besides, I had a chicken potpie to put in the oven and the rest of the mystery waiting for me at home. Time to check out and relax. Iâd leave planning Tedâs demise for tomorrowâs to-do list.
By five, the book was finished and Iâd forgotten to take the pie out of the freezer. Iâd written up a cute review for the meeting and Iâd done a load of laundry. As I slumped into the couch, I wondered if Greg had eaten. I could surprise him with a basket of Lilleâs fried chicken and one of Sadieâs pies from the freezer. I put a chocolate silk pie on the counter. Iâd call Lilleâs before leaving the house and, by six, weâd be having a romantic dinner in Gregâs office.
I let Emma outside and sprinted upstairs, pleased with my impromptu Wednesday date plans.
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Carrie helped me pack the woven picnic basket Iâd lined with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth. The pie sat at the bottom and Iâd slipped in a couple bottles of a locally produced root beer from my stash.
âGreg is going to flip when you come in with this.â Carrie grinned as she tucked the box of chicken on top of the pie and added a tub of mashed potatoes and gravy to the side. âYou know this is what he orders probably three days a week when he shows up here for lunch.â
I frowned, looking down at what Iâd thought would be the perfect dinner. âDid he come in today?â
She laughed. âNope. Esmeralda came in and got sandwiches for him and Tim. But I bet even if he had, heâd still love this.â She peered at me as she slipped biscuits into a plastic bag. âGregâs lucky to have you.â
I blushed. âWeâre dating. Iâm supposed to do nice things for him.â
âYeah, but you wouldnât believe the way his ex treated him. I mean, when Sherry came in here with him for dinner, you could see her steaming that he hadnât taken her someplace nice. She even ticked Lille off one day, asking for a sparkling water.â
I grinned, even though I didnât want to hear Sherry stories. I could see Lille getting upset. âI take it she got tap.â
âAnd Lille slammed the glass down in front of her. I swear, Greg had to hold them off each other before he got the two of them calmed down.â Carrie smiled at the memory. She folded up the arms of the basket. âAnyway, youâre a peach. Donât forget that.â
I paid for the food, waved good-bye to Carrie, and walked out of the diner. The basket was heavy now with all the food, and worse, it smelled divine. My stomach grumbled in protest. âOne more block,â I whispered. As I came toward City Hall, Gregâs truck sat parked right where Iâd seen it earlier. The man