A Baby Between Them. Alice Sharpe
a tiresome bore who had come to life only once since awakening and that was when she spoke with a stranger about his lost love.
How pathetic was that?
A bell tinkled as they opened the door. The restaurant was bigger inside than it had looked from the outside. Tables ringed the perimeter, which was fronted with glass and a panoramic view of the sea beyond.
Waitresses scurried with giant platters perched on their shoulders; others poured endless cups of coffee. A hostess led them to a table near the windows. Eleanor took a chair facing the door as the waitress handed them menus. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Just one cup,” Carl said. “The lady wants tea.”
As the waitress hurried off, Carl scooted his chair clear around the table so that he was facing the door, too. He said, “Now, aren’t you glad you came inside?”
She looked at the menu while taking shallow breaths. The place smelled like greasy seafood. Refusing to lie about her supposed joy at being talked into coming inside, she folded the menu. Carl looked up at the door, visibly tensing every time the bell announced a newcomer.
“Are you expecting someone?” she asked.
“Expecting? No. Why do you ask?”
“You keep staring at the door.”
“So what?” he said.
His attitude toward her had taken a marked change from the preceding days. No longer overly solicitous, he was directing his general impatience at her. Truth was, she almost preferred it.
The waitress arrived with two coffees. As Eleanor had no plans to drink tea or anything else, she didn’t comment on the mistake. Carl didn’t seem to notice. “Crab omelet is our special today,” the waitress chirped.
“That’s fine,” Carl said absently, twisting a little as a bell announced a family scurrying in out of the wind.
“Nothing for me,” Eleanor said.
“Bring her unbuttered toast,” Carl said.
The family was seated a table or two away while a man in a green baseball cap with his nose buried in a blue-and-white handkerchief took a seat at a table behind her. Carl finally noticed her beverage. “They brought you coffee? Why didn’t you say something? Where is that stupid waitress?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him. His nerves were beginning to get to her, too. Trying to soothe him, she looked around and added, “This is a nice restaurant. Maybe we could come back tonight and have dinner here.”
“I suspect we’ll be long gone before that,” he said absently, tensing as the bell rang over the door again.
A different waitress appeared with a tray holding a tall stack of pancakes and a pitcher of syrup. As she started to lower the tray, Carl put up a hand. “I didn’t order pancakes,” he barked. “You’ve got the wrong table.”
The tray tilted precariously as the waitress attempted to check the ticket buried in her apron pocket. Carl yelled at her, and she jerked. With a clatter, the plate slid right off the platter and landed in Carl’s lap. The pitcher of syrup followed.
Carl stood abruptly, his face as red as a boiled Dungeness crab.
The waitress immediately began apologizing and dabbing at Carl with a napkin.
“You clumsy oaf,” Carl sputtered, pushing her away.
“Sir, breakfast will be on us, of course.”
“It’s already on me!” he said, lifting his sticky hands. “Damn, I’ve got to go to the restroom and try to fix this.” His gaze went from his watch to the door to Eleanor. “Stay here. I’ll be back in two minutes.” He stomped off without waiting for a reply.
SIMON, NURSING A CUP of coffee and hiding behind a menu, watched the incident at Ella’s table with interest. He was willing to bet a week’s pay the waitress purposely dumped the food on Carl Baxter.
Why?
That question was at least partially answered a moment later when an Albert Einstein look-alike slid into the chair across from Ella. As the waitress shuffled off with the spilt food and dishes, Simon carefully shifted position to sit directly behind Ella in order to eavesdrop.
“Good, you made it,” the old guy said, his voice raspy. “Sorry about the mess with your friend, but I wanted to talk to you alone.”
Eleanor said, “I’m sorry, but—”
“Do you know anything about Jerry? Last anyone heard from him was the day he came to see you.”
“I don’t—”
“Never mind, Jerry is clever, he can take care of himself. What’s important is you. I’m real sorry about your brother. Oh, I know it’s been months since his death, but I still remember him as a cute kid with a real gung ho attitude. Tragic thing to die so young.”
Ella had a brother? This was news to Simon, who cursed his decision not to run a check on her background when he had had the chance.
“Okay, I’m stalling and we don’t have much time,” the old man continued. “Like Jerry told you, your dad set up this roundabout way of getting word to you to protect you and him. Jerry got you this far. My job is to tell you about the next stop. Go north to a suburb of Seattle named Tampoo. Be at the bus depot tomorrow right at noon. We all know what you look like. Come alone next time, okay?”
“I don’t—”
“Listen, honey, there’s a lot to explain, but don’t ask me, I’m just a link in the chain. You need to ask your old man. You be careful now, it’s likely to get dangerous before the end.” The old guy looked up just then and after quietly patting the table three times with his fingertips, he got to his feet. “Don’t let your father down,” he said, and quickly faded into the shadows toward the kitchen.
Ella hadn’t seen a man come out of the bathroom and pull on his ear, but Simon had. That was a signal if he’d ever seen one, and it was followed within seconds by the appearance of Carl Baxter, a determined glint in his eyes and water spots on his clothes. Simon dived behind the menu again.
There was no time to trail the old man; he had to stay and hear what Ella said to Carl about this visit. His hope was she would say nothing.
“The strangest thing just happened,” Ella said as another waitress arrived with a plate of eggs she set in front of Carl and toast she placed in front of Ella.
Worried Carl would start looking at the door again and notice Simon’s interest in him, Simon turned his back completely, staring out at the sea and the encroaching fog. He heard Carl say, “What? What happened?”
“An old man sat down and spoke with me. He said something about my father.”
“What did you say to him?” Carl asked, his voice fast and higher pitched than before.
“Nothing. I mean, what could I say?”
“The man must have mistaken you for someone else. Maybe he’s a nutcase.”
“Maybe,” Ella said, “but he implied he had something to do with the food being spilled on you.”
The bell on the door chimed and Simon glanced over his shoulder to get Carl’s reaction. Carl didn’t even look up. Instead he said, “Tell me what the old guy said.”
Don’t tell him anything, Simon chanted to himself.
“Well, he told me my father needed me. I thought you told me all my family was dead.”
“He’s a nutcase, just as I thought.” A brief pause was followed by “So, did the old guy mention a city and a time?”
“Yes. Tampoo, Washington, tomorrow at noon. At a bus depot. He said someone would meet me. He said I should go alone. What does that