LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

wasn’t looking forward to going home that night, either; her mother would almost certainly be waiting up to interrogate her about the evening with Cal. But Linnette had a few questions of her own. She hoped to learn more about these postcards so she could tell her brother. Linnette felt they had a right to know that their parents were in potential danger.

      If her father’s reaction to a simple question was any indication, she could forget about any hope of shared information from him. He wasn’t talking, but she might be able to persuade her mother to drop a few hints.

      When she reached the restaurant, Linnette parked in the only available spot and walked up the steps to The Lighthouse foyer. Funny, she’d never thought to ask Cal what he looked like. Now, standing in a foyer crowded with people, all waiting to be seated, she glanced around, hoping she’d somehow recognize him. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a number of single men milling about.

      Wanting to avoid the embarrassment of asking strangers their names, Linnette decided there must be a logical way to do this. Cal would probably be wearing cowboy boots. Unfortunately, that meant she was walking around with her head down, staring at everyone’s feet.

      She found a man with a polished pair of boots and raised her head. She immediately dismissed him as a possibility. He was far too old. Her survey continued. Scuffed boots—too young. Snakeskin boots—nope. Too urban.

      “Linnette?”

      She abruptly looked up and nearly collided with a lean, wiry man of about thirty-five. He wore a cowboy hat and western-style jacket with leather patches on the sleeves and—yes, indeed—cowboy boots. Linnette’s expectations hadn’t been high, but if this was Cal Washburn, he far exceeded her hopes. He was a pleasant-looking man, not striking, but obviously in good shape. Brown hair and eyes, prominent cheekbones, a solid jaw and surprise of surprises, a warm smile.

      “Cal?”

      He nodded. “I h-have a reservation.” With his hand at the small of her back, he directed her to the desk.

      The woman behind the counter looked at them expectantly.

      “W-Washburn,” Cal said.

      She scanned the list and scratched out his name when she located it on the reservation sheet. Reaching for two menus, she said, “Your table is ready.”

      Linnette had no idea The Lighthouse restaurant did such a rousing business. It hadn’t occurred to her to make reservations, and she was grateful Cal had.

      Once they were seated, Linnette opened her menu, studied the selections and chose the seafood fettuccini with clams, scallops and Hood Canal shrimp. It sounded appetizing—and was affordably priced. She’d stick to the free rolls for her appetizer.

      The waiter came for their drink order and Linnette decided on iced tea. Cal asked for a whiskey sour. Remembering that her funds were limited, Linnette opened her menu again to see if there was a price list for mixed drinks. Yes—to her horror, it was made with premium whiskey and cost almost ten dollars.

      After their drinks arrived, they made small talk, with Linnette doing most of the talking, just as she’d assumed she would. Cal seemed interested in her work as a physician assistant and was impressed that she could prescribe medications and treat minor injuries. She described the first times she’d sutured a wound and put on a cast and how nervous she’d been.

      The waiter returned for their meal order and it was as if Cal had only recently discovered food. He ordered a crab-and-artichoke dip for an appetizer, plus a dinner salad with shrimp. The seafood topping cost extra. For his entrée, he chose a T-bone steak.

      Linnette casually looked at the menu a second time and checked on the price of the steak. According to her calculations, his tab alone would add up to all the cash she carried.

      “Is s-something wr-rong?” Cal inquired.

      She leaned closer and tried to figure out a way to explain that she was on a limited budget, but couldn’t. It was just too humiliating. “N-nothing,” she assured him.

      “You stutter?” His eyes widened as though he’d met his soul mate.

      “No.” She shook her head. “Cal, I—” She began to explain that they might need to split the bill, but just then the waiter delivered the rolls and the appetizer.

      Despite her predictions, Linnette actually had an enjoyable time. She relaxed after she started eating. Cal insisted she have a glass of wine with her meal; the expense was more than she could afford, but she let him talk her into it. When she tasted the chardonnay, she was glad she’d succumbed. The wine was not only delicious, it went a long way toward calming her nerves.

      She shouldn’t have been surprised that Cal ordered dessert—New York-style cheesecake, no less. He also requested two forks.

      “I couldn’t,” she insisted, placing both hands on her stomach.

      “One taste,” Cal said.

      “We bake it here at the restaurant,” the waiter told her. “It’s our most popular dessert.”

      “All right,” she acquiesced, “one taste.”

      Linnette ended up eating most of it. She didn’t normally like heavy desserts, but this was exceptional—the best she’d ever tasted.

      They lingered over coffee, and then the waiter brought the bill, tucked inside a leather sleeve. It stood in the middle of the table, impossible to ignore. By her estimate—she’d kept a running total in her head until the wine, at which point she’d lost count—the tab far exceeded her cash. Granted, she had her VISA, but she was already close to her limit on that. For a long moment, Linnette stared at the bill, still concealed in its folder, and prayed this man her mother considered such a paragon would reach for it.

      He didn’t.

      Linnette was beginning to worry. “Shall we split this?” she suggested.

      Cal picked up the bill and looked it over. He didn’t say what her half would be. “I’ll t-t-take care of it on the way out,” he said.

      Linnette nodded.

      “I had a nice time.” He seemed as astonished as she was.

      “I did, too.”

      “You aren’t l-l-like I ex-x-x-pected.”

      “Neither are you.”

      He glanced at his watch. “Can I w-walk you to your v-v-vehi—car?”

      She shook her head. “You go on, while I pay my half of the bill. Thank you, Cal, for a most enjoyable evening.”

      “Y-y-you’re welcome.” He dropped his napkin on the table and stood.

      The restaurant wasn’t as busy as it had been earlier. Several couples sat with their heads close together, enjoying each other’s company. Some evening Linnette hoped that would be Chad Timmons and her.

      Once Cal had left, Linnette sighed deeply and decided she’d better figure out what she owed. She reached for the bill and was shocked to find it had already been paid. Frowning, she motioned for the waiter. “This is completely paid? The tip, too?”

      “Yes, the gentleman made arrangements with the restaurant before you arrived. He left his credit card with the hostess.”

      “Oh.” He might’ve said something. Still, Linnette felt she should thank him. However, when she hurried out to the parking lot, Cal was already gone.

       Nine

      It was the first Tuesday of November, the day Charlotte and Ben were having dinner with his son. That afternoon, she sorted through her closet in search of a dress to wear. She finally decided on the pink-and-white one she’d purchased for her wedding reception. With its row of tiny ribbon rosebuds edging the collar it made her feel feminine and attractive. Although the outfit was better suited for spring than autumn, she

Скачать книгу