Page 38 of Bad Seed

Frowning, she carried the brochure into the bathroom. The same little basket was on the counter, but instead of what was in the photo, there were just white plastic bottles for lotions, and shampoos, plain wrappers for the soaps. No fancy labels. No special scents. Just labels with the wordsshampooandlotionandsoap.

She made a mental note to check the vendors Ray used against the vendors supplying the hotel since Larry’s arrival, and then glanced at the time. It was getting close to noon, and she was starving.

She never ate when she flew because it made her sick, so food was the first thing on her mind. It was too cold to play tourist and walk down to the strip, and she didn’t want room service. Tomorrow she’d rent a car, but not today. It was too cold to sightsee, and she wanted a feel for the hotel, and maybe to catch a glimpse of Brendan Pope.

Still wearing black leather pants and black boots, and the thick, white cable-knit sweater she’d traveled in, she pocketed her key card, dropped her cell phone in a small shoulder bag, and left her room, pausing a moment in the hall to reorient herself toward the elevators, and wound up waiting a couple of minutes at the elevators for a car to arrive.

The car was nearly full when it stopped. “Room for one more?” she asked, and the residents quickly shifted to make room for her.

Men gawked. Women glared. She ignored it all. Business as usual.

Everyone in the elevator exited at the same time, obviously all of them heading into the dining room for lunch. She joined the waiting line to be seated, and when it became her turn, the hostess grabbed a menu.

“Table for one, please. Preferably against a wall or in a corner,” Harley said.

The hostess nodded. “This way, please,” she said and seated her at a small table for two in the corner against a wall, giving her a grand view of the town below. “Your waiter will be right with you. Enjoy your lunch,” the hostess said, and hurried back to her station.

Harley leaned back and relaxed. She was here. The job was ahead of her, and she had all the confidence in herself that she knew how to do it. She opened the menu and began scanning the selections, trying to decide what to order. But whatever she ordered, she was saving room for dessert. She was curious about the man in Justine Beaumont’s headlights and wanted to see what all the fuss was about. What better way than to sample his wares?

A few minutes later, her waiter arrived. He was a wiry young man, barely out of his teens, with sandy hair and a friendly face. He went momentarily mute as Harley looked up and smiled.

“Uh…” Then he remembered his job. “I’m Lee. I’ll be your server today. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Coke on ice,” Harley said.

He nodded. “Are you ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?”

“I’m ready. I’ll have a bowl of potato soup and the jalapeño corn bread.”

“Yes, miss. Good choice on a cold day like today. Maybe an appetizer to start you off?”

“No thanks,” she said, and smiled at him again as she handed him the menu.

Still a little dumbstruck by her beauty, Lee nodded and scurried back to the waiters’ station, entered the order on the computer, and then went to get her drink, then hurried back to her table with the Coke on ice. A server followed, pushing the bread cart, and left a miniature loaf of herb bread served on a small wooden cutting board, along with a ramekin of whipped butter.

“Enjoy. Your food will be out soon,” Lee said, and left Harley sampling the savory bread.

The moment he walked into the kitchen, he whistled between his teeth. “I just saw the most beautiful woman. Damn, y’all, she’s sitting alone at the back table by the windows. Blackest curls surrounding that gorgeous face… There are no words,” he said, then picked up an order and headed out to deliver it.

When a few members of the staff started to peek out the door, Chef Randolph waved a knife in the air. “I don’t care if she’s sitting there naked. Get back to your stations,” he roared.

Brendan chuckled beneath his breath as he added asingle pink buttercream rose onto the tiny cake he had waiting and looked around for his sous-chef.

“Anthony, bring the mini-cart. We have a couple celebrating their fiftieth anniversary. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

He placed the little cake on the cart, added the ice bucket with the demi-bottle of champagne, and headed for the dining room.

“Get the door,” he ordered, and Anthony ran ahead to push it open, then followed along to serve as sommelier when the cake was served.

Brendan knew the couple was at table twenty, but once he saw them, they would have been impossible to miss. A tiny little woman with snow-white hair, sitting beside a thin man with stooped shoulders and a snow-white mustache. He had a frizzy halo of white hair that rested just above his ears, and they were talking head-to-head and holding hands.

Brendan knew their names were Joe and Neelie, and when he reached their table, the look between them put a lump in his throat. He wanted that. A love and a woman who loved him enough to stay the course. Then they saw him, and the little woman clapped her hands.

“Oh, Joe! Look what they brought!”

Brendan set the little cake in the middle of their table.

“Happy Anniversary, Joe and Neelie. From all of us at the Serenity Inn, wishing you another fifty more!”

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