Page 23 of Mending Fences
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Daniel pulled a chair out for Mandy before taking his seat. He took her crutches and laid them on the floor by the wall. She should have worn pink so at least one of them felt comfortable. The yellow blouse and navy skirt still screamed business meeting even after Candace had added one of her scarfs. A bright flash to her left caught her eye.
Daniel handed her a menu. “Just don’t pay attention to them.” His voice low enough she wondered if he had spoken. Then, louder, he said, “The chef here studied in Ireland. If you can find a way to work one of his blueberry lemon scones into your choice, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Scones, as in the British-tea type?”
“His scones make me want to give up coffee for Earl Gray.” Daniel’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
Another flash, this time from a table behind her. Voices murmured. Mandy caught her name and stiffened. Daniel tapped her leg lightly with his toe. “You okay?”
Mandy shook her head, then nodded. “I mean, I am fine. Just not used to the attention.”
“We could order something to go. I tend to forget how uncomfortable eating with people watching you can be.”
“I think leaving would cause more of a stir, don’t you? I’ll make sure not to order anything difficult to eat, like spaghetti.” Mandy pretended to read her menu while her heartbeat slowed.
“Sorry, I should have driven farther or opted for fast food.” Daniel offered a tentative smile.
“Do you ever get used to it?”
“It is kind of like a zit. If you pick at it, it becomes more noticeable, but if you ignore it, it goes away.”
Mandy laughed. “That has got to be the worst analogy I have ever heard!”
“It is what my lawyer told me when I was fifteen.”
“Your lawyer?”
“My lawyer, guardian, and foster father, Mr. Thomas Morgan. Not sure what to call him, but he was the one in charge of me after my grandfather and father were killed in the accident. Most of his advice has been very helpful. He is semiretired now, but still makes his presence known in my life almost daily.”
“And the zit analogy helped?”
Daniel gave a half smile. “Not really, but when I pictured the paparazzi as big zits waiting to be popped, it kept me from getting mad.”
“Ew.”
“Hey, I was fifteen.” He raised his hands in mock surrender.
Another flash, this time over Daniel’s shoulder.
“You know, people need to learn to turn off their flash if they want to take clandestine selfies.” Daniel’s comment was too loud to be directed at her. Just beyond him, a teenage girl tripped on her way back to her table, her face a deep red.
Mandy frowned. “You realize she will be scarred for life?”
“Not likely. By the time our waiter comes, she will have uploaded the photo to three different sites and declared that DC talked about her.” He took a sip of water and settled back in his seat.
Mandy watched the girl tapping on her phone at a speed few of her students could match. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of knowing he was right about it, she set down the menu. “I think I’ll have the herb-crusted salmon.”
“Good choice.”
Once the waiter had taken their orders, Mandy started the conversation. “It probably isn’t any of my business, but I have been curious. What does one do in London for two days?”
“Sit in stale-smelling boardrooms with a bunch of stuffy people and negotiate contracts to advertise our restaurant chains.”
“I thought C&O was in steel, not food.”
“We’ve diversified over the years. My mother started the restaurants before I was born. She ran them as a separate company. After she—well, it made more sense to bring them under the same umbrella. I spend most of my time on that part of the business. In fact, most of the steel portion has been sold off over the last decade.” The half smile again.
