Maybe This Time(54)

I smiled and gave him the biggest piece of cake on my tray.

At the next table, when I set my last plate down in front of an older man, his glass caught on the lip of it and wine spilled. At first I thought I had caused the accident, but when he picked up the glass and dropped his fork to the ground, I realized he was drunk.

I bent down to pick up the fork and felt a hand brush my leg. The man gave me a creepy smile as I stood. I pointed his own fork at him. “Please keep your hands to yourself.”

“Or else what?” he slurred.

“Or else I’ll get security to escort you out.”

The man put on a faux-serious face and deliberately folded his hands in his lap. I really didn’t care if he was joking around or not, as long as he didn’t touch me.

I left, without looking back. Once inside, I pressed my back against the closest wall and used my empty tray to fan myself. It had been a long, tiring night.

I knew I should go back outside but I didn’t feel like moving. But then I saw Jett Hart and Mr. Williams coming out of the kitchen. And they clearly saw me, leaning against the wall on an unscheduled break. Jett gave me his standard look but thankfully kept talking.

“You’d fit in well here,” he was saying to Micah’s dad. “City life looks good on you. I’ve already gotten three business cards from guests tonight. If you get three referrals from every event, you’ll be booked for …” His voice trailed off as they went outside to the roof to visit with the guests.

I tried to take in what I’d just heard. Mr. Williams would never leave Rockside. It didn’t matter what Jett Hart said. Right?

I followed them out to see if I could hear Mr. Williams’s response, but they had already disappeared into the crowd. The crowd that was now mostly out of their seats, mingling, dancing, drinking.

I saw Micah standing at the railing, looking out over the city lights. I started toward her when the wine lady approached me. Great. I hadn’t gotten her caffè macchiato and now I was going to hear about it.

But instead of her normal haughty expression, she wore a curious one. “Was that Jett Hart?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said warily.

“So does that mean this catering company is part of his program?”

“Yes,” I said.

She smiled wide and began digging through her purse. She came up with a small card that she held out for me. “Give this to him, will you? My sister owns a catering company about thirty minutes west of here that could use someone like him. She applied for his program but hasn’t heard back.”

I gestured to where Jett had disappeared into the throng. “He’s here. You should find him.”

“I’ll try, but in case he’s too busy, you’ll be my backup.” She pressed the card into my hand. “Thank you!”

I nodded.

With that, she flashed me a smile and went on her way, probably to look for Jett.

I furrowed my brow and continued toward Micah by the railing.

“Who was that?” Micah asked.

I held up the business card. “Some lady who wants Jett to work with her sister. She was rude to me all night but apparently didn’t realize it at all. She thought it was perfectly normal to ask me for a favor without saying anything about her behavior.”

“Welcome to the world of waitressing.”

I tucked the card into my pocket and watched lines of headlights and taillights move along the highway in the distance like a string of Christmas lights.

“Oh, by the way,” I said, “you’re never going to guess what I overheard Jett Hart saying to your dad.”

“What?” Micah asked.

“He said he thought the city was where he belonged, or something to that effect.”

Micah nodded. “Yeah, he said the same to me.”

“He did?” I frowned. “Is this the way he works? How he helps you grow your business? He just takes you out of the small town and plops you into the city and voilà, instant growth?”

She rubbed her arms as though she were cold. Suddenly, I also felt a slight cooling in the air, a reminder that summer was coming to an end. “Maybe,” Micah said.

“I mean, you’d either be constantly driving to and from events or have to move here. And living here would cost at least thirty percent more than Rockside, which would just be a wash,” I pointed out. “And besides, could you imagine living here?”

I looked back toward the crowd on the rooftop and, for the first time tonight, realized just how diverse it was. Very different from our little town. “Maybe …” I began.

“Maybe what?” Micah asked when I didn’t continue.

“Maybe Jett’s right. Maybe this place would be better for your business. You wouldn’t have to deal with the Hobbs or the Smiths.” Both those families had refused to hire Mr. Williams for events and everyone knew why.

“There are racist people everywhere,” Micah said.

“I know, but you’d have more options here.”

Before she could respond, Andrew came over and leaned on the rail on the opposite side of her. “What’s so interesting over here?” he asked us.

“Nothing,” Micah said. “Just taking a little break before cleanup.”

Andrew nodded my way. “You handled that drunk guy well earlier.”