For the first time in years, the day dragged by. She couldn’t stop thinking about dinner with Alek—laughing at his offhand jokes and sipping champagne. They had only just met, but she already felt more comfortable with him than some of her closest friends. There was an ease about Alek, as if nothing ever bothered him. But behind his easygoing demeanor, she sensed that he longed to be loved.
Just like her.
Dinnertime finally arrived, and Evelyn scurried back and forth, tending to the guests’ needs. She refilled drinks, bussed tables, delivered food, and ordered desserts. By the time the last guest left the dining room, her shirt was dappled with sweat and her hair had more flyaways than the Atlanta airport. She glanced at her watch and did a quick calculation. If she ran, she could get home clean up before Alek arrived.
“Sonya, I’m heading home for a bit. I’ll be back in a half hour or so. Sonya?” Evelyn poked her head into the kitchen—Sonya wasn’t there. Frowning, she strode through the dining room and went into the lobby. Sonya was near the door, talking to someone outside. When she saw Evelyn, her eyes bulged and she shook her head.
The bed and breakfast manager didn’t catch the hint in time. Alek stepped into the lobby, caught sight of her, and smiled.
“Hey, you,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
Evelyn wanted to run before he got any closer and realized how disgusting she looked. She panicked.
Holding up her index finger, she said, “Just a second,” then threw the French doors open and ran into the dining room. She crashed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen, dodged the employees inside, and burst into the hallway on the other side. The next corner led to a room beneath the stairs which housed the water heater, furnace, and seasonal decorations. But most importantly, it had a washer and dryer—with Evelyn’s spare shirt sitting on top. She tossed her apron aside, peeled off her sweaty clothes, then paced the room in her bra, trying to wick away any remaining moisture. Two minutes passed, and her worry that Alek might leave overcame her fear of excess sweatiness. She donned her shirt and buttoned it, smoothed her hair with her hands, and returned to the lobby.
Alek was alone—Sonya, no doubt, had left to search for her. “There you are,” he said, scratching his neck beneath his collar. “I was worried I scared you off. I don’t look that bad, do I?”
Evelyn studied his attire and gave a nervous laugh. He didn’t look bad—far from it. He wore a tailored maroon shirt with onyx cufflinks and a black silk tie. His dress pants looked like they had been pressed a moment before he walked through the door, and the polish on his cap-toed shoes glinted in the light of the chandeliers. Great, she thought, our first official date, and I am completely underdressed.
He met her halfway across the room, his eyes glowing with innocent affection. He studied her face for several seconds, and his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced away, fleeing his concerned gaze. “Nothing. I wish I would’ve checked my phone, that’s all.”
“Did I come at a bad time?” He gestured at a leather sofa. “I can wait here while you take care of things, if you’d like.”
Evelyn took a deep breath. Now that he was here, she didn’t want to leave. “It’s alright, as long as you don’t mind hanging out with a sweaty swamp creature.”
He tilted his head back as if a realization had struck him in the forehead. “I overdressed, didn’t I? It was stupid of me. Here—” He stripped off his tie and shoved it into his pocket, then he unbuttoned his collar and rolled up his sleeves. “Does this help?”
Evelyn wasn’t about to complain—with his sleeves up, his forearms were exposed and his shirt hugged his biceps. “A little. Go do some hard labor in the kitchen and we’ll be even.”
“Show me the way,” he said, cracking his knuckles.
She laughed, and felt herself begin to relax. Taking his hand, she led him into the dining room. “We’ll visit the kitchen, but I won’t make you work on our first date. Wayne—he’s our cook—is keeping our plates warm in the oven.” She pushed the swinging door open and stopped beside the sink. Wayne was wearing a pair of bulky noise-canceling headphones. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to face her.
Wiping his soapy hands on his white apron and tucking the headphones around his neck, he said, “Hello, Evelyn. Come to help with the dishes?”
She smiled and took a step back to introduce Alek. “Wayne, this is Alek.”
Wayne shook hands with Alek. “That’s a firm grip, son. You work with concrete?”
“Thank you.” Alek shrugged. “But no; I’m a massage therapist.”
“I knew a guy who worked in the concrete business,” Wayne continued, brushing past Alek and donning a pair of oven mitts, “he worked with something called Shotcrete. Amazing stuff, Shotcrete.” He opened the oven door and lifted out a pair of wide plates, which were covered from edge to edge with cornbread, fried pork tenderloins, and collard greens. He gave a nod for Evelyn and Alek to follow, then carried the food into the dining room. “They spray it through big hoses—like fire hoses—and it globs onto these cages made out of steel Rebar. Can you believe that? Cement through a hose. Anyway, that’s why his grip is so strong, like yours, because he has to hold a hose filled with cement all day.”
Evelyn settled into her chair and unfolded her napkin. She nodded her thanks, and Wayne retreated into the kitchen.
Alek wore a curious smile as he took the seat across from her. “It sounds like Wayne is a big fan of concrete.”
She glanced at the swinging door and chuckled. “Don’t mind him, he just says whatever he’s thinking. He’s nearly deaf from listening to heavy metal all day long. Sonya’s pretty sure he doesn’t hear a single thing we say.”
“Well, he seems like an interesting guy. I bet he has some great stories to tell.” Alek cut off a piece of tenderloin and tucked it into his mouth. He let out an appreciative moan and pointed at his plate with his fork. “And he definitely knows how to cook.”
Evelyn nodded. “He worked in the galley of an aircraft carrier for years. When he talks about it, he makes it seem like he was a prisoner of war. After he left the Navy, he started his own restaurant and named it ‘Paradise,’ just because you could walk out of the kitchen onto dry land. The owners hired him a few years ago, and we’ve never had a complaint about his food.”
“You definitely won’t get one from me.”
The dining room grew quiet as they ate. Alek finished his food first and leaned back in his chair to stretch.
“Incredible. I could eat that every day and never get tired of it.” He let his attention wander around the room as he waited for Evelyn to finish. When his gaze settled on the bay window that overlooked the front lawn, he frowned and said, “What’s that?”
Evelyn dabbed her lips with a napkin and looked through the window at the lawn. Long shadows interrupted the pale evening sunlight, and a truck rolled by on the street beyond the gate, but something seemed out of the ordinary. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but she didn’t get the words out.
Something clicked against the corner of the window, and Evelyn’s eyes flashed to the source of the sound. A hand, covered in a black glove and grasping a metal disk, vanished beneath the window sill, fleeing her gaze.
9
Evelyn shot to her feet and crossed the room. Alek’s face tightened with concern as he hurried along beside her. They saw a flash of movement at the center of the drive—a man in blue coveralls running toward the gate. He wore a black, hooded mask, and the metal disk bounced in his grip, suspended by a rubber tube.