Jace set his hands on his hips as Reuben brushed past him.
“You thinkin’ of working tonight?”
Jace’s brow furrowed, and he turned toward the grills.
At ten o’clock, things started slowing down. They stopped taking customers, and attention turned to pleasing the remaining patrons and keeping up with the dishes. It was still a full house, and drinks and desserts kept the waiters busy.
“Hey, John,” Jace said.
The waiter looked up at Jace from a loaded tray Georgie had just helped him with. “Yeah?”
Jace passed Georgie a lobster plate. “You don’t close tonight, do you?”
“No, tomorrow.”
“Be sure you talk to me before you take off.”
John gave Jace a curious look but nodded. “Sure.” He glanced at Georgie and looked around, then leaned in. “Georgie, did you find out yet?”
Georgie shook her head, squeezing a swirl of chocolate sauce over the torte plate. “Been a little busy. I’ll get it, don’t worry.” She slipped the torte onto the plate and arranged the raspberry garnish on top. “Mm. This would be really good with a crème fraîche,” she muttered to no one in particular, then turned to check on the bread oven.
“Hey, Romeo.”
Jace blinked.
Reuben pointed at the grill. “Is that rib eye supposed to be well done?”
Jace jerked back into action, throwing a fresh steak on the heat, knowing he’d be buying a well-done rib eye to take home. But he was still distracted, considering crème fraîche. And making a mental note to ask Reuben to stop calling him that.
* * *
“Could you use some help?” Georgie knelt on a chair next to Rhea’s, who was rolling silverware into cloth napkins.
“Are you sure?”
Georgie nodded, not sure. She’d hurried to clean up her station and knew she was expected to help in the kitchen, but she had a mission. She folded the burgundy napkin on the diagonal and grabbed a salad and dinner fork and a knife and rolled them up. “You know what I miss?” She placed the roll in a bin and started over.
“What?”
“Flowers.”
“Mm-hm. I’m so ready for spring. My mom’s crocuses are about to pop.”
Georgie nodded. “Thank heaven for crocuses. Is it crocuses or croci?”
Rhea screwed her nose up. “Croci? That sounds awful.”
“Mm, like a frog.”
Rhea laughed.
“No frog flowers?” Georgie asked.
“No, thank you. For now I’ll take crocuses, daffodils, and tulips, please.”
Perfect. They busied themselves with more napkins. “So, what is your favorite flower?”
Rhea leaned her head to the side. “Canna lilies. My nana grew them in her garden in North Carolina.”
Georgie nodded at her silverware, smiling. “Pretty.”
“What’s your favorite?”
Just then, the door of the kitchen swung open, and Jace stuck his head through. “Rhea, have you seen—”
Both girls lifted their heads. Rhea finished his question for him. “Georgie?”
Georgie tossed her last rolled napkin in the bin. “Coming. See ya, Rhea.”
“See ya, Georgie.”
Georgie walked past Jace. “Girl talk.”
“Great.”
Jace let the kitchen door swing shut behind him.
She looked around. “Is John still here?”
“Yup. Waiting outside.”
Georgie made a beeline for the back door. As soon as she stepped out, John pushed away from leaning against his car. She jogged over to him.
“Canna lilies.”
“What?”
“Canna lilies. C-A-N-N-A. Not to be confused with calla lilies.”
“Calla?”
“Right. Not calla, canna. N as in Nancy. They’re tall with lots of bright-colored blossoms. If they’re white, they’re callas. Which you don’t want. Got it?”
He nodded. “Canna. N. Bright colors. Got it. Just one, right?”
“Right. Call the florists first; ask if they have them.”
He grinned. “Thanks, Georgie.”
“What are you doing? Dinner and a movie?”
“Didn’t Jace tell you about the tickets?”
Georgie furrowed her brow as he dug in his pocket and pulled out two tickets. “He gave me these. It’s a play in Seattle next weekend, supposed to be good. He bought them for his ex just before she got engaged to some jerk. He just gave them to me. Cool, huh? What do you think? Smooth?”
She looked over the tickets. “Very smooth.” She smiled.
“I’m asking her on Monday.” He put the tickets back in his pocket. “Canna, right?”
“Right. It’ll be great.”
Back in the kitchen, Georgie stole a glance at Jace cleaning his grills. His ex-girlfriend got engaged. While they were still together? She reached for a bleach towel, not quite understanding the flare of irritation that flashed through her. It would certainly explain his mood that first week.
Reuben walked past with the money bag. “Georgie, could you finish up on dishes?”
She looked around at all the other jobs already underway. Served her right for leaving the kitchen. “Sure.” She dropped the towel and approached the stainless-steel box, eyeing the boa constrictor–sized sprayer hanging down from a bar looming over the sink.
She picked up a pot and grabbed the sprayer head, aimed, and sprayed the pot. And herself.
“Careful with that aim. The pressure’s pretty strong.” Jace continued past, pushing the broom. Probably smirking.
She pressed her lips together and ignored the water soaking the front of her apron. She tipped the pan away from her and briefly considered aiming the sprayer in his direction. “I’ll try to remember that.” She eyed the pile of pans and dishes and wished Tyler well with his new job.
By the time she finished the last load, most of the lights had been turned off and the dryer hummed with the load of bleach towels. The cleaning service’s bin of burgundy napkins sat ready for its morning pickup, and Jace was locking the office door. Everyone else had gone. She wiped everything down with a dry towel. She needed a dry towel.
Jace stopped and looked at her with a crooked smile. “You all right?” That was the second time he’d asked her that today.
“Can you give me a minute?” she asked.
“Sure.” He leaned against a counter and folded his arms.
She pulled at the damp bow on her apron, and it gave with a little effort. No more knots.
Exhaustion had hit her about halfway down the third giant stack of plates. It was hard to believe she’d been on a bridge over Deception Pass that morning. She threw her apron in the empty basket and walked to the washroom, pulling out her ponytail on the way.
Using paper towels, she patted at her shirt and arms and blotted her face and the waterproof-but-flaking mascara. She ran her fingers through her humidified hair, finally pulling it all back in a damp, messy bun. It was enough to get her home and into bed. A flicker of self-consciousness made her grimace, but Jace had already seen her, and this was the best she could do. Of course, then she spent a moment convincing herself that she would have felt a little self-conscious about her appearance if it had been anybody waiting out in the kitchen, not just Jace.
She exited the bathroom. Jace was turned away from her, his jacket on, reading something. She couldn’t help noticing the way his jeans hung on his hips just right. He turned, and she looked up.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
He tossed some junk mail on the counter. “Do we call it a tie?”
“Hm?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
“The battle between you and the sprayer.”
She breathed out a sigh. “I’m not a very objective judge. I just don’t want a rematch.”
He chuckled and opened the door for her as she grabbed her jacket. “The new dishwasher starts on Monday.
”
“I know. Tyler. He’ll be great.”
“You know him?” He hadn’t stopped at his bike but had continued walking with her toward her car. To her surprise, it didn’t bother her.
“His family is in our ward.” She peeked at him. They hadn’t discussed their shared membership in the Church at all.
He only nodded. “Good. I doubt he’ll have the issues Anders did.”
She pulled her keys out of her pocket. “He’s a squeaky-clean RM.”
“Perfect job for him, then.”
She shook her head, suppressing a laugh.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at church.”
She nodded. “See you tomorrow.”
He backed away and held his hand up in a sort of wave, then turned. She opened her car door and watched him a second longer, then got in and started the engine. She watched him again in her rearview mirror as he put his helmet on and kicked up the kickstand. The motorcycle roared to life over the sound of her little Kia, and Jace revved the engine a few times. He pulled out but waved her on, and then, to her surprise and confusion, he followed her nearly all the way home, turning left off the street and up a hill just before she pulled into her aunts’ driveway.
She got out and looked behind her to the few lights still on among the trees. Shaking her head, she turned and walked into the house.
* * *
Georgie sat down on the church pew next to Faye and looked around. When Jace walked into the chapel, he seemed to spot her immediately, a smile growing on his face. He headed in her direction.
“Georgie,” someone else said.
She turned. Tyler made his way down her row, followed by Megan and their parents. He grinned as he sat down next to her.
“Hi, Tyler.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming here or going to the singles ward. I’m glad you’re here.”
Megan leaned forward. “Hi, Georgie.”
Georgie smiled. “Are you feeling better?”
She shrugged. “I guess. Must have been a twenty-four-hour thing.”
“Glad to hear it’s over.”
Megan sat back, and Georgie glanced behind her to find Jace sitting a few rows back, studying the program.
She turned to Tyler. “Why aren’t you at the singles ward?”
He shrugged. “Family wants me to come with them for a few weeks more. I don’t really mind. I guess they missed me.”
“And he’s substitute teaching my Sunday School class for a couple weeks,” Megan said. She leaned forward and whispered loudly, “They’re going to eat him alive.”
“Excuse me?” Tyler said. “I’ve been teaching for the last two years. I’ve got this.”
Megan leaned back. “Oh, now, see? That’s the right attitude.”
As Tyler reached for a hymnbook, Megan looked at Georgie and drew a finger across her throat.
Georgie muffled a laugh as the prelude music began.
Tyler turned to Georgie. “You should come to class with us.”
Megan leaned forward. “Yeah, to watch him get eaten alive.”
Tyler shook his head and looked at the ceiling. “You know, sometimes I really miss Japan.”
They settled down as a hush fell over the congregation and a member of the bishopric stood to welcome them to the meeting. Georgie looked behind her again. This time she caught Jace’s eye and smiled.
He winked.
She turned quickly, her smile widening.
Faye must have noticed her expression because she looked behind her, searching but apparently not finding. She leaned over. “You seem pretty chipper this morning.” She gave a pointed look toward Tyler.
Georgie frowned. “Shhh. Just sing.”
Faye laughed silently as Georgie handed her the open hymnbook. Georgie didn’t dare take another glance behind her during the song. Slowly, though, the smile returned.
After the meeting, she visited with the Gordons for a few minutes, waiting for the pew to empty on either side so they could exit. Out of the corner of her eye, Georgie found Uncle Dar greeting Jace with a welcoming handshake. The two made their way to the end of her pew. Dar was already introducing Jace to Tru and Faye, and he motioned for Georgie to join them.
Tyler was in conversation with a man in the pew behind them, and Megan was already making her way out of their row on the other side. Georgie walked toward Dar and Jace.
Dar opened his arm to her, and she stepped in. “Look who I found.”
Jace smiled. “Good morning, Sister Tate.”
She ignored Faye’s penetrating gaze. “Good morning. Nice tie.”
He glanced down at his orange tie, then up at her. “Thanks. You too. Nice tie, I mean.”
She muffled a laugh.
“Would you like to join us for dinner this afternoon, Jace?” Faye asked a little loudly. “We love having new members of the ward over.”
Georgie quickly looked to her aunt, eyes wide.
“Um, yeah, thanks.” Jace seemed flustered over the sudden invitation and peered at Georgie as he ran a hand through his dark waves. “If that’s all right.”
Faye didn’t even bother looking at Georgie for confirmation. “Of course it’s all right. We try to ask someone every week. Isn’t that right, Dar?”
Dar nodded. “Of course.” He looked at Georgie and smiled. “Every week.” He turned to Faye. “You do know this guy’s a chef, though, right?”
“Chefs eat sloppy joes, don’t they?” Tru asked.
Jace nodded. “Yes, ma’am, they do.”
Faye looked after her sister, who was already leaving for her class. “Oh, Tru, I’m sure we could do better than sloppy joes.” Tru waved her hand without looking behind her. Faye turned back to Jace. “I have to admit I’m feeling a little pressure.”
Georgie interjected. “Faye, you’re a wonderful cook. So is Tru.”
Jace put his hand up. “Please don’t feel any pressure. Really. I look forward to the company and the meal. And if it’s all right, I’ll bring dessert.”
Faye brightened. “Oh, now, I think I can deal with that.”
Dar rested his hand on Georgie’s shoulder. “Well, now that that’s settled, shall we go to Sunday School?”
Georgie looked at Jace. “Are you staying?”
He arched a brow. “Why wouldn’t I stay?”
“Georgie.”
She turned her head. Tyler stood back at the center of the pew, looking at her expectantly. Dar hadn’t noticed and was pulling her along. She shrugged helplessly and pointed to her family. Tyler, looking a little deflated, nodded, waved, and exited the other side of the bench.
She turned and found Jace watching her with veiled curiosity. She gestured toward Tyler’s retreating figure. “The new dishwasher.”
Jace’s eyebrows rose a fraction, and he nodded. “I see.”
“I’ll have to introduce you.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Faye left to her own responsibilities, and Dar herded Georgie and Jace to the gym for Sunday School.
Chapter 9
Jace rang the doorbell and tugged the edge of his pant leg down to the heel of his shoe. He checked the box inside the bags he held again just to make sure no damage had been done on the walk over. The door opened.
Once again he couldn’t help looking at Georgie a little too long. He saw her so often in her black slacks, white shirt, and apron, her hair back, that it still took him by surprise to see her this way: jeans and a gray sweater, her hair down around her shoulders.
“Hi,” she said, looking a little uncomfortable.
“Hi.” He bounced on his feet, feeling unusually nervous. “Um . . .” He reached absently for a leaf on the shrub next to the doorway and tugged, saying what he had prepared in his head on the way over. “Listen, if this is too weird, I could just . . .” He swallowed. “You could tell them I wasn’t feeling well or—”
“Is that dessert?”
He looked down at the box and various containers insi
de the bag he carried. “Yes.”
She stood back, opening the door wider. “Then you better come in.”
He stepped in, shaking his head. “Why do I have the feeling that’s the only reason you’re letting me in?”
“That’s not the only reason. They said that if I didn’t let you in, I have to do all the dishes. And you know how I feel about doing dishes.”
“Ah.” He took off his jacket, which she hung on a peg in the small enclosed entry room, and then she led him into a long, narrow main room with a kitchen and dining area off to the right. Old pictures lined the walls, and the furniture looked comfortable but far from the shabby stuff in his living room. All of the windows at the back of the house looked right over the sound.
“This is nice.” He inhaled. “And something smells really good.”
Georgie smiled, glancing at the kitchen. “Sloppy joes.” She padded in her socks to a stereo in a large entertainment center against the long wall and turned down the Mozart to conversation level.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had sloppy joes.”
“Tru made her homemade rolls, which are absolutely amazing, and Faye made mandarin coleslaw, and she got out a jar of her homemade bread-and-butter pickles, which are like gold around here, so . . .” She gave him a look, warning him to be impressed.
“So,” he answered her look, “when do we eat?”
“Hello, Jace!” Sister Silva emerged from a hallway opposite the kitchen. She too was without shoes, and he suddenly wondered if he should have taken his off at the door. He’d walked over from his place and hoped he hadn’t dragged in mud or gravel. Had he wiped his feet?
Sister Silva took his hand in both of hers. “We’re so glad you’re here. I didn’t hear your motorcycle.”
“I walked.”
“Oh, it’s nice you’re so close. And it’s a beautiful day too, though we’re supposed to get rain later.” She let go of his hand. “Is that dessert?”
“Yes. It was key in getting past the guard.” He glanced at Georgie. She shook her head, but he thought he detected a smile.
“Here, let’s set it over here. Does anything need to be refrigerated?”
He followed her to the counter and pulled out one tall and one short container. “These can go in the fridge. The rest should be fine.” She peeked around him, but the remaining dish was covered securely.
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