He leaned his back against the doorframe, which provided support so he could channel his energy inward. He couldn’t stop tapping on his legs. The idea could work. Lou knew he wrote, knew he appreciated food. With a few strategic comments, an article or two, he wouldn’t have to live a lie anymore. Hannah hung up the phone and focused her attention on the twitchy man in her office.
“What can I do for you, Al?”
Al strode to stand directly in front of Hannah, set his hands on her desk, and leaned forward. He spoke precisely and clearly. He didn’t want any confusion.
“I want to kill A. W. Wodyski.”
Hannah blinked at him, but her features didn’t betray her disappointment.
“Is this your two weeks, then?”
“What? No. Why would you think that?”
“Now I’m confused. Why would you want to destroy your alias? You don’t have a column without him. A. W. Wodyski writes the food articles. You are A. W. Wodyski.”
“Hear me out. If A. W. dies, then you need a new critic. Perhaps you hire a freelancer you’ve used a few times named Al Waters. He’s young, British, and has a unique take on Milwaukee’s restaurant scene. Having him on staff adds an international flair to the food section, and maybe the paper as a whole?”
Hannah’s eyes narrowed as if she could see him clearer through a more focused window. “Is this about that chef you like?”
“Is it a problem if it is?”
“You can’t review her. And you’ll lose your anonymity if you use your real name. The Internet makes it too easy for people to find pictures of you. So, are you doing it for her?”
Al’s gut response flew to his tongue. Of course he wanted to make these changes because of Lou, but it wasn’t just that. It was more than protecting her from the hurt of discovering he was A. W. He’d been living a lie since he arrived. He’d pretended to be a local, yet had loathed everything about Milwaukee. Now Al knew differently. He didn’t want to be anything else but himself: a cheese curd–loving, festival-going, Brew Crew fan who adored the most incredible chef in the city. He couldn’t really be himself if he hid behind a pseudonym.
“It’s quite a bit more than that. I don’t want to hide behind A. W. anymore.”
Hannah assessed his sincere eyes, his pleading posture. His heart stood bare to her in his face.
“I need to think about it. What you’re suggesting hasn’t been done here. There could be some serious repercussions if the truth surfaced. There’s more to your plan than A. W.’s existence.”
“I’ll take that for now.” Al turned to leave, then stopped. “Thank you, Hannah—for at least considering it.”
• CHAPTER TWENTY •
He’s here,” Lou said after peeking out the pickup window. “I’ll come back if we get any more customers.” Sue nodded and continued scrubbing the oven. During downtime, which they had a lot of, they worked to get the equipment shiny and bright for the inevitable auction. It was just a matter of time before the bank pulled the plug on her cash flow. She could only skip payments for so long. Lou pushed through the swinging doors and walked to greet Al in the quiet dining room.
Al stopped by the bar and surveyed the restaurant, taking in the mostly empty tables, subtle decor, and single waiter working the entire restaurant. He paused when he saw Lou approaching him with a smile engaging her entire body. Lou kissed him quick on the lips and stepped back. She hadn’t felt nervous until he walked in the door, and now every nerve danced the jitterbug. She looked down and bit her lip.
“You came. I didn’t know if you would make it.”
Al looked surprised.
“Nonsense. Luella’s is your baby. I have to visit.”
Lou grabbed his hand and squeezed.
“Thanks.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Besides, I recall the promise of a free meal.”
“You’ll get your food. First you need to meet some people, then I’ll give you the nickel tour.”
Al looked around for the people Lou planned to introduce him to. He already knew Harley and Sue in the kitchen. She led him to the center table, where Otto and Gertrude sat holding hands. They both seemed to be losing weight. She’d bring them both a dessert on the house tonight, since they’d already finished their dinners.
“Al, I’d like to introduce you to my very best customers and good friends Gertrude and Otto Meyer. Gertrude and Otto, this is my . . . Al.” Lou stumbled over what to call Al.
“Herzchen, this is your gentleman friend, yes? The one that makes you smile so much?”
Lou smiled and blushed.
The door jangled and new customers entered the restaurant.
“Excuse me; I’ll be right back.” Lou hurried off to assist the new customers. A full house at this stage wouldn’t save Luella’s, but every new customer meant a few extra dollars she didn’t have to earn before she could open her new restaurant. As she left, she heard Gertrude tell Al, “Sit. I don’t like looking up when I talk to people.”
• • • • •
Al sat. He already didn’t want to disappoint this lovely, small woman. His phone beeped.
“Excuse me while I check this,” Al said.
“You young ones with your gadgets. When do you get a break?” Gertrude said.
“I guess the theory is if we’re always available, then we don’t have to be in the office as much,” Al explained as he searched his phone.
A text had arrived from Hannah.
RIP AW. Need obit asap.
Al absorbed the words, let them swish about in his gray matter and funnel into every cell. He’d done it—well, almost. The news energized him. Phase one of cover-his-tracks completed. He tried to ignore the niggling fact that he was still hiding the whole truth from Lou.
Now that he had Hannah’s response, he powered off his phone.
“My apologies. My attention is all yours,” Al said.
Gertrude waved his apology away.
“Is everything okay? Not bad news, I hope,” Gertrude asked.
“No, not at all. The very best news actually.”
“Delightful,” Gertrude said. The three paused in conversation, deciding where to go next.
“Lou tells me you come here quite frequently?” Al asked.
“Oh yes. She makes the very best food. Her servers are always attentive. We’ve never had a bad meal, have we, Otto?” Otto nodded his head in agreement.
“She’s only cooked for me a few times. What I’ve had ranks among some of the best ever. I can see why you come here often.”
“It’s really a shame she has to close. I can’t believe that horrible man wrote such awful things about her cooking, our Liebling’s cooking. He is a Dummkopf.”
“Quite right.” Al nodded in absolute agreement.
“Lou fancies you.”
Gertrude leaned in as if sharing a top secret, a smile brightening her pale face. Al tilted toward her to respond.
“I should hope so. If not, she should stop snogging me so much.”
“Are you saying you don’t like it?” Lou swooped down from behind and kissed him on the cheek. Otto’s eyes crinkled at the affection, and Gertrude clapped her hands.
“Haha. They are in love, Otto. You remind me of when I first met him. We couldn’t stop touching. At our age, people seemed to think we should keep our hands to ourselves. I say bah to such silliness. When people are in love, they should show it.” She leaned over and planted a wavering kiss on Otto’s wan cheek, then wiped the smudged pink lipstick off.
“You should see the mess when she wears the red lipstick,” said Otto.
“Otto, they don’t need to know such things.” She gave him a sly wink.