Page 14 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
Thank goodness.
“What do you think, Fischer?”
Oh, I forgot he was next to me. He meets my gaze for a second before looking down at his plates, where he has only taken small bites of everything so far. Even the chicken liver.
“It all tastes adequate,” he says slowly. “Better than adequate.”
“But I was wondering if you have meatloaf,” I say to Debbie, as if Fischer and I are totally on the same page. Based on the way he looks at me like I’ve gone crazy, we are definitely not even in the same book.
Debbie raises an eyebrow. “Meatloaf? That’s not exactly in line with Lila’s vision for the event.”
Oh, she’s good.
I nod seriously, though it is so hard to hide my grin right now. “Or maybe lasagna? Mashed potatoes!”
“You want mashed potatoes at a fancy party?” Debbie folds her arms, apparently deciding to drag this out.
Fischer clears his throat. “I don’t think we—”
“Mashed potatoes,” I repeat.
Though Fischer looks ready to walk out of here and plan this whole thing himself, Debbie bends down and pulls out a tray full of food with a big grin. “Something like this?” she says.
My mouth starts watering immediately upon seeing the twice-baked potato bites and little meat pies. “Yeeesssss,” I breathe before stuffing one of the potatoes into my mouth. “Debbie,” I say with my mouth full, “you’re a food genius.”
Fischer eyes the tray with doubt, but then he reaches out and takes a bite of the meat pie. Then another. When he picks up one of the potatoes, the whole thing goes into his mouth this time, and for the first time since I met him, he doesn’t have a trace of disappointment in his expression. I still wish he’d smile or something, but I’ll take what I can get.
“So?” I ask since I know Debbie won’t. Not when this is a big risk she and I have taken.
Fischer looks over at me, his dark eyes impossible to read. “This isn’t what Lila planned,” he says.
I grin. “Nope.”
“She isn’t going to sign off on this. Not sure Grant will either.”
“But they’re good, right?”
The corner of his mouth lifts as he goes for another meat pie. “Yes,” he admits with some measure of reluctance.
I resist the urge to shout for joy. Barely. “Then we can do mini cheesecakes with strawberries and some with fudge, and we’ll have little cups of salads with mini forks. I still kind of want lasagna, but…”
“But you trust me,” Debbie says with a wink. “And the Greenwood has never had lasagna on their menu.”
Fischer chokes, coughing to expel whatever he just inhaled. “Menu?” he asks, still trying to breathe, and then he looks at me with wide eyes. “You went off of the Lodge’s menu to come up with these?” He waves his hand over the remaining potatoes and pies.
Though I can’t tell if he’s being judgmental or if he’s impressed, I choose to take it as the latter. “A reopening like this has to be nostalgic for it to work,” I explain, though I’m pretty sure he knows that. I just wish Lila did as well. “We could do Lila’s version of fancy, or we could go with my plan.”
Fischer folds his arms, back to scowling again. “Last I checked, you’re an assistant. Not on Lila’s planning team.”
“I don’t appreciate the reminder, but you’re right.”
“So, how are you supposed to change all of her plans?”
Oh, what a sweet, naive man. He can’t have been an assistant for long if he’s asking that question. “Tell me this,” I say, turning to face him. “When Grant asks you to make an appointment for him, does he check to make sure you did it right?”
His scowl turns into a slight glare, like he’s offended that I would even ask something like that. “No, because I do my job.”
“Have you ever taken something he’s said and tweaked it with a better option, like scheduling a meeting on a different day so he’s not stuck in meetings all day long?”
