Page 27 of A Touch of Treachery
A few days after Thanksgiving, Zeeta Kowalski had informed the staff she was finally selling the diner and going to live with her daughter Penny in Florida.I’d had to restrain myself to keep from jumping with joy.Zeeta had been a seventy-something piece of work, and she hated me with a passion, criticizing every little thing I did, but I’d given her enough cash to persuade her to sell me the diner.I’d also promised to keep the interior largely the same.Zeeta might have been a battle-ax of a boss, but she had a surprising sentimental streak when it came to the diner, which she had opened with her late husband Mel decades ago.
I liked the old-fashioned look of the diner, so restoring the space to its former glory hadn’t been a chore, although I was far less enthused about wearing the same old waitress uniform.But Zeeta got what Zeeta wanted, and after some serious haggling, we’d come to terms.
Along with the remodel, I’d also upgraded all the appliances, with lots of input from Pablo and the other chefs.Word about the diner was spreading, and it was already turning a healthy profit.
I still wasn’t sure why I’d bought the diner, especially since I used tohatecoming here.Having to get a second job had felt like a huge failure, like I hadn’t been smart enough to figure out a way to take care of Grandma Jane without falling so deeply into debt.Plus, Zeeta barking out orders every time I walked by hadn’t helped matters.
But as soon as I’d heard the diner was for sale, I had to have it.Maybe I had just wanted something of my own, something that wasn’t tied to being a Locke or Section 47 or anything else related to the spy world.Maybe I had just wanted to create myownlegacy, however small it might be, and have a bit of distance and freedom from my father’s mistakes.Although given General Percy’s disdain, I might be working full-time at the diner soon, especially if I couldn’t figure out Henrika Hyde’s next move.
“Charlotte?”Pablo asked.“Are you okay?”
Thinking about General Percy and Henrika soured my mood, but it didn’t diminish my appetite.“I’m sure the potatoes au gratin will be wonderful.But let’s talk about the most important thing: What’s for dessert?”
Pablo shook his head, still grinning.“I should have known you would want dessert first.You always do.”
He gestured at a glass cake stand on the back counter.“A three-layer chocolate cake with a whipped strawberry filling and drizzled with a dark chocolate ganache.”
The cake looked wonderful, and I had to close my mouth to keep a bit of drool from escaping.“You had me at three-layer.”
Pablo laughed.We chatted back and forth through the service window while he and the other chefs cooked and dished up food.I took orders and carried the finished plates over to customers, with the other waitresses who were working tonight.
Despite the cold, a steady stream of customers came and went, scarfing down pot roast, along with burgers, fries, patty melts, and other diner classics.Pablo had taken control of the menu, and he had elevated every dish with quality ingredients and unique flavor combinations, like the BLT, which featured thick, crispy strips of brown-sugar-glazed bacon, microgreens tossed in a zesty lemon vinaigrette, fried green tomatoes, and onion jam.
I worked for more than an hour, dealing with the dinner rush, before I was finally able to take a break and eat my own dinner.Pablo’s fork-tender pot roast melted in my mouth, while the roasted carrots and onions added sweet and tangy notes to the dish, and the potatoes au gratin were just as cheesy as Pablo had promised.I had just cut myself a hunk of the chocolate-strawberry cake when the front door opened, the bell chimed, and a familiar presence filled the air, like a shadow sliding across the floor.
I smiled, put my piece of cake on a plate, and cut another generous slice.I grabbed both plates, then turned around.“Perfect timing.I was just about to have cake.”
A muscled man who was a couple of inches over six feet leaned his elbows down on the counter, although the motion didn’t make him look any shorter.His short black hair gleamed under the lights, as did his light brown eyes.He was dressed in black, from his leather jacket to his cashmere sweater to his corduroy pants.People say clothes make the man, but not in this case.This guy exuded the supreme confidence of someone who knew he was a total badass.
Gabriel Chase, a former Section cleaner, grinned, his white teeth flashing against his ebony skin.“You know I’m more of a pie guy myself.”
I rolled my eyes.Gabriel and I had known each other since we were kids, and we’d had this debate many times before, especially since I’d started working at the diner.“AndyouknowIthink pie is inferior to cake.Most pies are all crust and not enough filling.If I want to eat crust, I’ll eat a piece of bread.”
“Hey!”Pablo called out through the service window.“Notmypies.They have the perfect ratio of crust and filling!”
“Agreed.Your pies are excellent.That lemon-blueberry pie last week?”I blew him a chef’s kiss.“Scrumptious perfection.”
Pablo grinned, his ego placated, but I’d only spoken the truth.His pies were excellent, but excellent pies were few and far between in my experience.
I held out one of the plates to Gabriel.“A cake is all soft, fluffy goodness, often filled and covered with even more melty, fruity, chocolaty goodness.That makes cakeinfinitelysuperior to pie.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes right back at me.“Has anyone ever mentioned you take foodwaytoo seriously, Char?”
“You have.Multiple times.It’s one of your many character flaws.”I pulled the plate away from him.“But if you don’t want any cake ...”
Gabriel straightened up and snatched the plate from me with quick, effortless grace.“I didn’t say that.”
He took his plate, along with mine, to our usual booth in the back corner.I poured Gabriel a cup of coffee, grabbed a glass of water for myself, and joined him.
I glanced up at a neon sign shaped like a freestanding carton of fries hanging in the window beside the booth.The sign was glowing a bright, steady red, except for three small dark red tubes tucked in with the other fries that looked as though their lights had burned out.They weren’t really lights at all but rather the vials of Redburn that Desmond had found during the Tannenbaum mission.
I’d thought hiding the vials in plain sight was the safest, smartest thing to do.Even Desmond didn’t know exactly where they were in the diner.Just as I didn’t know exactly where he’d hidden the other vials of Redburn in his safe-house apartment.
Gabriel didn’t even glance at the vials nestled in the sign.Instead, he sliced a fork through his dessert and shoved the big bite into his mouth.“Mmm-mmm-mmm!Maybe your crazy cake theory is right.At least when it comes tothiscake.”
I dug my fork into my own piece.It wasamazing.The chocolate cake was light and moist, while the strawberry filling offered a perfect pop of tart, sweet creaminess, and the dark chocolate ganache added a layer of rich, gooey decadence.Mmm-mmm-mmm, indeed!
Gabriel and I didn’t speak for a few minutes, both of us too busy enjoying our cake.I slid the last bite into my mouth, then sighed with happiness.My sugar rush was on, and I was going to enjoy every second of it.
