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City had a five-star restaurant. Gonna have to fuss at Ernie for draggin’ my ass to Sugar ‘n Spice.”
    I tried to laugh. “A five-star? I had no idea, either. Better be damn good food if it’s gonna beat the souvlaki at Sugar ‘n Spice.” So, Dale had lunch with Ernie, but didn’t hang around to see me?
    “I hear that. Can’t wait to see you. Your mama’s already off buying a new dress.”
    “Sounds good. Gotta go.”
    What the hell was Dale up to? Texting one-handed was a pain in the ass, but I tapped a message and fired it off to Robert.
    Did you know about this meet-the-‘rents dinner?
    Robert responded right away. Just got a text from Dad. He’s pretty happy about Dale’s call. Should be a good time.
    Did you think to mention we aren’t actually together?
    I stared in disbelief at his answer. Did you?
    “Grr.” I slapped my phone into my book bag and stalked into class. My worlds worked best when they didn’t intersect.
    We’re not NOT together, right? Just taking a break?
    I had no idea how to respond to Robert’s message, so I ignored it and attacked my linoleum block. Making deep cuts with the V-shaped carving tool, I wished everyone would just stay in the damn boxes I’d assigned them.

Chapter Four

    D ale closed his menu and smiled at the male server. “I’ll have the Porterhouse. Well done. Don’t let it bleed on my plate, hear? And,”—he scanned the linen-clad table before meeting the waiter’s scorn-filled eyes a second time—“I don’t see the ketchup. Would’ja mind bringing us some?”
    I’d already warned Robert not to dare give Dale his speech about the superiority of undercooked beef, but I drove the side of my shoe into his ankle as a reminder.
    The server’s brows flashed. His lips tightened. “Ah, yes, sir.” He filled out his pad and gathered the menus. “I’ll be right back with your baguettes.”
    Dale shifted in his seat and frowned in my direction. “What the hell’s a baguette?”
    “Long, thin loaf of bread,” Robert Kossel, Senior answered, holding his hands about two feet apart. His gold Rolex flashed from underneath his shirt sleeve. “They’re delicious. Handmade right here every day. These are served hot, covered in poppy seeds, and dripping with butter.
    Robert, Junior wriggled in his seat. “The chef’s a personal acquaintance, Mr. Hannah. Andy believes the flavor of his meat should stand alone. He doesn’t serve ketchup.”
    Rolling my eyes at the way Robert pronounced ‘Andy’— ahn-DEE, my ass —I drove the side of my shoe into Robert’s ankle again, hard enough to make him jerk this time, since he seemed determined to be dense.
    Mom stiffened. Renata’s Italian Restaurant looked like they’d neglected to pay their power bill, but the flickering candle in the center of our table revealed the stain on her cheeks.
    “Dale, can’t you get by without ketchup just this once?”
    Her embarrassment stemmed from growing up poor—and her friendship with Bliss. How damn dare she let this ambulance chaser make her ashamed of Dale?
    “Aw, gorgeous.” Dale turned his most charming smile on her. “With ketchup, it’s meat and a vegetable, right? Ain’t you always fussin’ at me to eat more vegetables?”
    “This is still America. A man can have ketchup on his doughnut if he wants. There’s a convenience store across the street. I’m pretty sure Ahn-Dee’s already sent someone over there once to buy this tea, because it sure isn’t fresh brewed. Speaking as a professional waitress, ‘market price’ means ‘if you have to ask, you can’t afford it’. So, Ahn-dee can trot right back over there and buy a bottle of Hunt’s.” I scowled at Robert. “I mean, he wouldn’t stoop to buy store brand ketchup, would he?”
    Senior chuckled. “Redheads. I hear they’re better than those shock paddles the EMT boys carry around.”
    “You got that right.” Dale cast Mom another adoring look.
    “Amen.” Robert slid his arm around my