Page 85 of The Witness

I took a sip of wine and forced it down past the lump in my throat. God, I missed my daughter.

Calls ofcheersandto Haileyrang out around the room.

I locked eyes with Michael, and he blew me a kiss. He beamed with pride, love, and relief. For the last week, I’d been living on caffeine and adrenaline. Sleep was for other people, but through it all, he’d stuck to our bargain. He offered back rubs and hugs, only stepping in to do what I asked beyond that. And trust me, there’d been plenty of tasks I’d asked of him. He and I were learning to be partners.

He sat at a table with John and Kira Smith, Quinn, Gunter, and his therapist Benjamin, an ex-special forces guy that went back to school for psychology after a roadside bomb cost him his leg. Benjamin looked like part of the team at the Smith Agency—big and scary. We’d been trying to set him up with Quinn. It was not going great, and we weren’t sure why.

“Next, a huge thanks to George Miller Construction and Angie Ramous Designs. George built this place twice and did a marvelous job. Anyone looking for a contractor, he’s your guy. Angie, you turned my Pinterest board into a reality. Thank you, it’s gorgeous. George and Angie deserve a round of applause.”

I encouraged George and Angie to stand for recognition. They sat at a four top with their spouses. In the six weeks between January first and today, they performed a miracle. Angie found replacement material for everything damaged in the vandalism, and George got it all repaired. The smell of fresh paint stilllingered in the bar, but I was sure the aromas from the kitchen would disguise it.

“The next thank you is to my team. In the kitchen there are twenty-plus people hard at work from line cooks to waitstaff that will make tonight and every night at Viande a success. They are my backup, and I’d never be able to do it without them. A special shout out to Katie Bartholomew, Viande’s pastry chef and my best friend. You’ll all understand how valuable an addition she is to the Viande family when you taste dessert.”

Katie had been a rock and my savior. In the last week, if I’d asked Michael to do fifty things, I’d asked Katie to do a hundred. She didn’t know it, but as soon as the profits warranted the expense, I wanted to offer her the job of general manager. She was practically doing it already.

“Last, I want to thank the people in this room.” My throat closed up. I had to pause and catch my breath. “Every person in here is part of my success story. Your support and loyalty to my brand made this possible. To every one of you that stood in line for a taco from my food truck or hired me to cater your event or watched me on reality TV or donated to my crowdfunding campaign. I am humbled. Thank you.”

I lifted my shaking hand, holding the champagne flute up. My gaze wandered the room, stopping on each table. I mouthed the word thanks again, overwhelmed by the swell of applause and the sound of clinking glasses. I took a sip of champagne and let the feeling sink in.Hailey, we fucking did it.

I turned around to head back into the kitchen only to be enfolded in a hug. My mom.

“Congratulations,” she whispered in my ear.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I knew you could do it.”

I almost laughed.

Michael

I stood in the bar of Viande with John Smith on one side and Alexander Mills on the other. The official opening night dinner party had finished up about forty minutes ago. Most of the guests had left, but a healthy contingent lingered over expensive after-dinner drinks, waiting for Sabrina and Katie to emerge from the kitchen.

“You think it’s fixed?” Mills asked Smith.

We had moved on to talking about the FBI’s Miami field office. Mills had important political friends in DC. Sandoval’s infiltration of the Miami office had been kept quiet but not secret. Mills was on a fishing expedition to see if John had any knowledge that might keep friends from getting re-elected.

“Fixed for now. The problem is that the criminals have more money and more guns. FBI agents are underpaid and thus subject to shifting loyalties.” John was forever a cynic.

“Not everyone’s loyalty is for sale,” I said and pointed meaningfully across the bar at Special Agent Lewis Wright. He’d come out of the investigation of the Miami office smelling like a rose. The cutting-edge surgery he underwent at the University of Florida Hospital had ensured he made a full recovery after getting shot at the Oceanfront Diner. He was fit for duty.

“Rumor is Wright will be named special agent in charge of the Miami office when the smoke clears. I made sure the right people knew his name. It will be good to have a friend heading the FBI’s efforts in town.” John said.

Mills smiled and nodded like he’d been in on the plan and approved of the outcome.

One more time, I was reminded that while I played checkers, John Smith played chess.

“I’d like to meet him.” Mills took his glass of scotch off the bar and started walking toward Wright. John followed.

I did not. Playing masters of the universe wasn’t my game. And I would never forgive Wright for putting Sabrina in danger. He’d known his boss was dirty but still told the man what Sabrina had witnessed. Wright was a fool. He’d make an excellent puppet for Smith and Mills.

“Michael, this is amazing. But my daughter is even better.” Minerva slid up next to me at the bar. Tonight, an orange and pink silk psychedelic print caftan swirled around her like a trippy cloud. She gestured with a glass of champagne around the space, nearly spilling wine on me, her, and the bar. Minerva was definitely tipsy. Good thing I’d arranged a driver for all of us.

Minerva was staying in the new guest bedroom at Sabrina’s house tonight. Keeping her promise to herself and her daughter, Sabrina had packed up all of Hailey’s things. The purge had been hard, and the added stress could have waited until after the restaurant opened, but Sabrina wouldn’t hear of it. I helped when asked—painting walls, hauling boxes, and building Ikea furniture.

The result had been a different labor of love than opening Viande. Sabrina had decorated the guest room/office using all Hailey’s favorite colors. She said a useable space was a more fitting tribute to her daughter than a museum. If only my mother would figure that out.

“You know what is missing?” Minerva leaned in to whisper a secret in my ear. Her hand pressed on my chest to steady herself and rose on tiptoe. “A shirtless bartender.”

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