“You’re working tonight?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Of course.”
I ignored him.
Around 8:30 that evening, our restaurant was packed. I was carrying two plates toward table nine when the front door
opened. A gray-haired man entered with a woman and another couple.
I recognized him from Robert’s company Christmas party. Mr. Harrison. Robert’s boss.
My stomach tightened. I had met him briefly years earlier, but I was sure he wouldn’t remember me.
The hostess led them toward my section.
For a moment, I thought about asking another waitress to take the table.
Then I decided not to. I walked over.
“Good evening. My name is Linda.”
“I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
Mr. Harrison looked up.
His expression changed.
He stared at my face.
Then at my name tag.
