Read Sanctuary for Free Online Page B

smile.
    â€œWhy don’t I warm that coffee up for you, Mr. Benson? How’s your omelette? Brian’s an absolute wonder in the kitchen, isn’t he?”
    Since Mr. Benson seemed so appreciative of her breasts, she leaned over a bit further to give him full bang for his buck before moving to the next table.
    â€œYou’re leaving us today, aren’t you?” She beamed at the newlyweds cuddling at a corner table. “I hope y’all come back and see us again.”
    She sailed through the room, gauging when a customer wanted to chat, when another wanted to be left alone. As usual on a weekday morning, business was light and she had plenty of opportunity to play the room.
    What she wanted to play was packed houses, those grand theaters of New York. Instead, she thought, keeping that summer-sun smile firmly in place, she was cast in the role of waitress in a house that never changed, on an island that never changed.
    It had all been the same for hundreds of years, she thought. Lexy wasn’t a woman who appreciated history. As far as she was concerned, the past was boring and as tediously carved in stone as Desire and its scattering of families.
    Pendletons married Fitzsimmonses or Brodies or Verdons. The island’s Main Four. Occasionally one of the sons or daughters took a detour and married a mainlander. Some even moved away, but almost invariably they remained, living in the same cottages generation after generation, sprinkling a few more names among the permanent residents.
    It was all so ... predictable, she thought, as she flipped her order pad brightly and beamed down at her next table.
    Her mother had married a mainlander, and now the Hathaways reigned over Sanctuary. It was the Hathaways who had lived there, worked there, sweated time and blood over the keeping of the house and the protection of the island for more than thirty years now.
    But Sanctuary still was, and always would be, the Pendleton house, high on the hill.
    And there seemed to be no escaping from it.
    She stuffed tips into her pocket and carried dirty plates away. The minute she stepped into the kitchen, her eyes went frigid. She shed her charm like a snake sheds its skin. It only infuriated her more that Brian was impervious to the cold shoulder she jammed in his face.
    She dumped the dishes, snagged the fresh pot of coffee, then swung back into the dining room.
    For two hours she served and cleared and replaced setups—and dreamed of where she wanted to be.
    Broadway. She’d been so sure she could make it. Everyone had told her she had a natural talent. Of course, that was before she went to New York and found herself up against hundreds of other young women who’d been told the same thing.
    She wanted to be a serious actress, not some airheaded bimbo who posed for lingerie ads and billed herself as an actress-model. She’d fully expected to start at the top. After all, she had brains and looks and talent.
    Her first sight of Manhattan had filled her with a sense of purpose and energy. It was as if it had been waiting for her, she thought, as she calculated the tab for table six. All those people, and that noise and vitality. And, oh, the stores with those gorgeous clothes, the sophisticated restaurants, and the overwhelming sense that everyone had something to do, somewhere to go in a hurry.
    She had something to do and somewhere to go too.
    Of course, she’d rented an apartment that had cost far too much. But she hadn’t been willing to settle for some cramped little room. She treated herself to new clothes at Bendel’s, and a full day at Elizabeth Arden. That ate a large chunk out of her budget, but she considered it an investment. She wanted to look her best when she answered casting calls.
    Her first month was one rude awakening after another. She’d never expected so much competition, or such desperation on the faces of those who lined up with her to audition for part after