Angels at the Table (Angels Everywhere #7)(36)

Then Lucie kicked the papers and off Mercy flew, butt first onto the sidewalk. Thankfully Will quickly replaced her.

Lucie gasped and fell back two steps as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. She took her purse strap and wrapped it over her shoulder and tried again.

Will held fast.

Another cab pulled up to the restaurant and after a couple of moments, Wendy climbed out. She stood outside the entrance to the restaurant and watched as her daughter tried once again with no success.

“Lucie?”

Lucie turned to see her mother standing outside of Heavenly Delights.

“I thought you’d be here ages before me,” her mother said, joining her.

“Mom, I want to read Aren’s article, but I’ve had nothing but problems. You would hardly believe what’s been happening.”

“How frustrating.” Wendy glanced up at the proprietor.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think I’m losing my mind. I had the most outrageous thing happen in the cab, too.”

“Come, you can tell me all about it later, but right now we need to get into the restaurant.”

Lucie hesitated, kicked the stack one last time, and then joined her mother.

“I’m sure we’ll find a used newspaper inside,” Wendy was saying. “You know how people are always leaving those sorts of things behind.”

Lucie agreed. “I know it sounds nuts, but it’s like everything is working against me.”

As soon as they turned away, Shirley released a heaving sigh. “That was close.”

Mercy barely heard her friend and pointed at their young apprentice. “Will, get into the restaurant and make sure there are no Saturday newspapers to be found.”

“Got it.” He shot off like a rocket.

“I’ll help,” Goodness insisted and zoomed after him.

“Shirley?” Mercy asked. Her friend looked pale. “Do you want to return to heaven?” she asked.

The former Guardian Angel’s eyes widened. “And miss all this craziness? I don’t think so.”

Mercy smiled.

“Besides, I don’t want to face Gabriel all alone.”

For that Mercy didn’t blame her. The two quickly joined Goodness and Will. Mercy was surprised by how busy the restaurant was this early in the evening. Lucie and her mother should be pleased.

And she was right, because Mercy overheard Wendy say to Lucie a few minutes later, “Every table is booked and we have several people on a wait list.”

Lucie glanced up from her workstation. Catherine, who’d attended culinary school with Lucie and Jazmine and filled in for Lucie on occasion and on her day off, smiled, too.

“That negative review might have done you more good than harm,” Catherine said.

Lucie frowned. “I doubt that.”

“Every table, Lucie. That’s high praise all on its own.”

“Yes, I suppose it is, and while the review might not have hurt us—thanks to all our loyal customers—I still don’t think I could ever forgive Eaton Well for that original review.”

“Lucie, that’s not like you,” Wendy said, and seemed surprised.

“Mom, think about it. The sarcasm just wasn’t necessary. I would never want to associate with anyone who could write something that cutting and cruel. He seemed to find pleasure in tearing down the chef, which just so happened to be me.”

“You know these critics. They work at being clever.”

“At other people’s expense. Well, I, for one, don’t think it’s amusing. These are people’s lives … their everything.”

“Oh, Lucie, you need to be more forgiving,” her mother chastised.

“Nope, not in this instance. It’s not going to happen.”

Mercy froze and looked to her friends. “Did you hear that?”

All three nodded in unison.

“We have our work cut out for us,” Goodness whispered.

“Oh, yes, we do,” Will agreed.

Chapter Thirteen

Aren’s cell chirped as he sat, crashed out, in front of the television. Glancing at Caller ID, he saw that it was his sister, Josie.

“You up for a movie?” she asked.

“Thanks but no thanks. I’m exhausted.”

“Just from cleaning your apartment?” she teased.

“No, Lucie phoned and asked if I’d give her a hand.”

“Doing what?”

“If I told you, I doubt you’d believe me.”

“Try me,” Josie said, and sounded amused.

“We served two hundred fifty meals at the Salvation Army homeless shelter.”

“You?” She did nothing to disguise her surprise.

“Yes, me, and don’t sound so shocked.”

“You’ve never done anything like that before.”

His sister was right, Aren hadn’t. He’d thought about it, but wasn’t sure how to go about volunteering. All he’d ever done was stick a few dollars in the red bucket at Christmastime. That was as far as his generosity stretched. He made routine donations to a number of worthy causes, but he’d never gotten personally involved. His need to give back had been satisfied by that comfortable barrier of a check stuffed in an envelope and tossed into the mailbox.