Page 63 of Artifice
Instead, she went to The Salty Kettle.
It was early for dinner, but she had a feeling waitress Stephanie knew more than she’d been able to say. The restaurant should be fairly quiet at this time of day, so maybe it would be a good time to talk to Stephanie and see what she knew.
Plus, Olive hadn’t really eaten lunch. She’d nibbled on that stale sandwich while making conversation with the kids. The food at the school left a lot to be desired.
She hurried inside and to her delight saw Stephanie was indeed working.
“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to sit?” the hostess asked.
Olive pointed to the area where Stephanie worked. “Near the windows would be amazing.”
“Of course, Ms. Bettencourt.”
So people heredidknow who Olive was, just as she’d suspected.
Did the people behind Lighthouse Harbor control this whole town?
It appeared more and more likely.
“You again.” Stephanie paused by the table and grinned. “I guess you liked that lobster mac and cheese you got last time.”
“I certainly did, but I definitely cannot indulge in that dish too often.”
Stephanie laughed. “I totally understand. You’ve got a figure to maintain, right?”
Olive smiled. “Anything else you’d recommend? Something maybe a little healthier?”
“Our creamy crab soup is out of this world.” Her eyes widened as if to drive home her point. “You could get a salad to go with it. They balance each other out, right?”
“Then that sounds perfect.” Olive handed her the menu back without even looking at it.
She wanted to jump into her questions, but she’d need to time them just right.
Though there weren’t many people around, there were enough that Olive didn’t want other patrons to overhear their conversation. The restaurant wasn’t the best place to have privacy.
As she waited, her phone rang. Good to see she had service again.
But when she glanced at the screen, she saw it was Colin’s mom.
Her heart rate quickened.
What might this be about?
CHAPTER 32
Olive glanced around the restaurant to make sure no one was listening. She couldn’t give away who she was talking to right now unless she wanted to break her cover.
But everyone appeared to be going about their business, and the classical music playing overhead would help disguise her words.
“Hello,” she murmured.
“Olive? Is that you?” Mrs. Andrews’ voice contained an anxious edge that made Olive tense.
“It sure is. I’m here eating at a restaurant in town.” She tried to subtly send the message to Mrs. Andrews that she had to be careful what she said.
“Oh.” Mrs. Andrews paused. “I understand. I’ll be quick.”
“Are you calling for an update?”
