Page 35 of The Jellybean Dilemma

When I turned, there was Raymond, the restaurant’s owner, a man I recognized from more than his picture. He’d attended several of my parents’ galas, various business meetings, plus charity events and fundraisers. His full dark head of hair, bushy eyebrows and sparkling black eyes could not be mistaken for anyone else, especially combined with the voice that could be heard from any corner of the world. He clasped my shoulders, air-kissing both my cheeks.

“Raymond, how are you?” I smiled. “And it’s Rhonda, please.”

He beamed. “Rhonda, you are exquisite. I cannot believe how you have grown! Why, the last time I saw you, you were just a teenager. Now look at you.” With both my hands in his, he turned me one way then the other. “Beautiful, just like your mother.” His attention shifted to Greg behind me. “And there’s no way this strapping young man could be Greg Peterson.”

The broad grin grew even wider, which I hadn’t thought possible. Raymond released me, moving to grip Greg’s shoulders before slapping him on the back. “My boy, it seems you’ve done rather well for yourself, eh? Landing an Elgin?” He gave Greg a knowing wink. “In town for your sister’s wedding? You know, we’re catering all her events.”

His volume made me wince, but I tried to hide it as I nodded. “That’s part of why we’re here.” I explained about Erin. “So, we thought we’d come for lunch and check on the catering for Mandy’s shower tomorrow. Just to confirm that everything’s all set, that you don’t need any more details from us.”

“Ah, mixing business with pleasure, I see. Of course, let me get my schedule book.” He came right back, and we went over the menu, for my benefit. Everything seemed to be well in hand.

I gave him my sweetest smile. “Any way you could add in a few extra servings of everything? With this snowstorm, we’ve had several people arrive early, and I won’t be surprised if we have a few shower crashers.”

He straightened his shoulders and nodded. “For the daughter of Malcolm Elgin, anything.”

I patted his arm gratefully. “Thank you so much, Raymond. I can’t wait to eat some of the delicious food my father always raves about. It’s the highlight of his trips up here.”

Raymond took my hand and kissed the back of it. “You have just bestowed upon me the greatest compliment a chef can receive.” He called once more for his daughter. “Give them our best table.”

Carrie held her chin high as she cradled two leather bound menus in the crook of her arm. “This way.”

I couldn’t believe Raymond was making his daughter seat her ex-boyfriend. Even my oblivious father would never be so cruel, though I didn’t focus on that for long. Greg walked behind me, touching the small of my back. It felt like his very fingerprints engraved into my skin when he removed his hand to pull out my chair. I wanted to run to the bathroom, to see if he’d actually left a mark.

“Our specials today are homemade lasagna and roasted duck with a cranberry sauce. Kelly will be your server. She’ll be with you shortly,” Carrie said in a strained voice. “It was nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your meal.”

It was a relief when she left, and I watched the tension drain out of Greg. I wanted to ask him more about Carrie, about what had happened between them. But he was so private about the details of his life, I just didn’t want to push. Someday, if all goes well.

I flipped open the menu, glancing through the varied list of entrees. A chicken pasta dish sounded too good to pass up, with a creamy white sauce, artichokes, mushrooms and spinach. That settled, I scanned the décor.

The atmosphere was elegant and quiet, just the way I liked my restaurants. Linen tablecloths covered each round table. Cloth napkins, water goblets and wine glasses stood at the ready while candles flickered in glass vases. The plush, dark green carpet was tastefully muted, a perfect contrast with the mint walls. Beautiful artwork hung throughout, but the focal point was the view of Lake Superior. I imagined summers here would have the deck crowded, the clinking of glasses and silverware carried off on the breeze wafting in from the crashing surf.

“We have to come back when it’s warm.” I paused, holding on to the fantasy in my mind, with Greg across from me. “Their deck would be an amazing place to have dinner.”

He nodded. “It books up fast, so we’d want to make reservations now.”

I pursed my lips. “How’s the third Friday in June look for you?” A pang of longing hit me low in my gut.

But he just shook his head as if I were teasing, then he focused once more on his menu. My words hadn’t even been considered, not for one second. Will he ever take me seriously? Will this ever stop being a game of pretend? Will I ever have Greg for real?

The waitress came to take our order, interrupting my bleak thoughts.

“And a glass of pinot grigio,” I said after ordering my pasta with a side salad.

Greg decided on the chicken fettuccine Alfredo and side salad. “I’ll take a pinot grigio, too.”

After the waitress left, I turned to him. “I didn’t know that you drank wine.”

His dimple appeared. “Good, I haven’t given away all my secrets.”

All his secrets? If he’s given away half his secrets, I’m a monkey’s uncle. I frowned as I played with my napkin.

“What?” he asked, taking a sip of his water.

“You really think you’re an open book?” I rested my chin on my hand, studying his reaction. My gesture must have done interesting things to my cleavage because his attention was below my chin again. “Greg?” I couldn’t keep the laughter out of my voice.

He started. “What?” He took in my smirk, and his lower lip jutted out as his face shut down again. His words came out tight and heated. “It’s your own fault. You and that stupid button.”

The laughter died within me as I was yet again faced with his anger at seeing my skin. What was his deal anyway? We both studied the tablecloth. I glanced around the sparsely occupied room, then slipped the offending white circle back through its hole.

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