Page 42 of Hearts Aweigh
“Should I teach you?”
She clasped her hands together. “I’ll be Maddie’s permanent splash pad partner in return.”
“Permanent? Is that a promise?”
Abby crossed her heart. “I promise.”
He cocked his head.
“Sorry. Force of habit. Please tell me, oh Master of Intimidation, how do I make others quake in their boots?”
Spencer stared at her without speaking. Abby smiled. The seconds ticked away.
She twisted in her seat. “What’s the secret? Do I grimace? Pound my fist? Wear power suits?”
He remained still.
She fiddled with the button at the neck of her polo shirt. “If you’d rather wait until later, I understand.”
Spencer rose slowly. He placed a hand on either end of the table. Abby inched back. He drew closer until he was centimeters away from her face. Her eyes widened.
“Silence,” he said.
“What?” Her lashes fluttered.
“The greatest weapon you can wield is silence. When you say nothing, people rush to fill the awkward void. The one who speaks first relinquishes control of the conversation to the other person. Don’t be in a hurry to answer.”
Abby said nothing. Not because she was following his advice. Her stomach had leaped into her throat. Every muscle in her body clenched. She wished he’d stop scorching the oxygen from the room.
Spencer’s gaze made a slow circuit from her forehead to her chin. He moved away. His tall frame settled on the seat. “Was that helpful?”
Abby sucked in a giant breath. “Wow! I pity the people going against you in court.” She waggled her shoulders. “I have never been so uncomfortable in my life.”
Uncomfortable? Of course she was uncomfortable. He’d dismissed society’s unwritten rules of personal space, leaning over his employee in a way her supervisor would’ve surely misunderstood. He grabbed a menu and held it up to block his face. What had gotten into him? He checked and found Abby sending a tentative glance his way.
“What should I order?” she said.
“Your preferences might be different from mine. But to narrow it down, I recommend either the braised chicken or the caramelized shallot ravioli.”
“Chicken. My body aches for protein.”
Maddie held a swan in front of her face and asked in a squeaky voice, “Can I have pizza?”
“Look, Mr. Masterson! A talking bird that likes pizza.” Abby laughed. “But I think, Mrs. Swan, we should try something new. Why don’t you have chicken like me?”
Spencer appreciated her ability to turn Madeleine’s request down without making it seem like a rejection. She should try that tactic on the pasta preacher.
“Shall we say grace before or after the food arrives?” he joked.
Abby called his bluff. “Why not now? Let’s teach Maddie the important stuff.” She bent to the girl. “Saying grace is how we show God we’re grateful for our food.”
Maddie listened with wide eyes.
“It doesn’t have to be long. You bow your head and remember all the things you’re thankful for.”
Spencer reached out and took his daughter’s hand, then winked at her. “This is how the experts do it.”
Maddie slipped the fingers of her other hand into Abby’s and bowed her head. Spencer held his free hand across the table.
