Eight floors in total, a fresh, lighter brick façade had changed the look of the entire building. It appeared far more welcoming than it had when we’d first come to Cobbler Cove. It used to remind me of one of those insane asylums in a horror movie, with its moss-covered walls and dark exterior. But the renovation had done wonders, and it appeared to be buzzing with life.
Plus, Coop was right, they did have a mean cheeseburger even before they’d revamped the place. I hope that still held true because my stomach was on full tilt.
As the rain pelted us with sharp pings, our feet slapped against the wet concrete as we ran for the door, where we were greeted by the doorman, who whisked us inside to the warm interior.
“Wow,” Higgs commented on a light whistle. “They really did a great job. This used to be so gloomy and pretentious.”
It was beautiful, from the gold and white marble floor to the enormous chandeliers and the comfortable, casual couches placed strategically by the roaring fireplace the size of a cave opening. Small round tables sat between chairs where people lounged, enjoying drinks.
As we followed the signs for the restaurant along a small hallway, we passed tall potted plants in decorative gold urns and large canvass paintings of the Columbia River and Mt. Hood. The atmosphere was laid back and easy—and the smell from the restaurant sang to my empty stomach.
Coop was at the hostess’s podium before all of us, her eyes scanning the restaurant’s interior, done in warm woods and muted oyster and cream paint, asking for a table for three.
As we followed the pretty hostess past the long, padded bar, bobbing and weaving through the booths, I heard the gurus before I saw them, their loud, raucous laughter echoing through the restaurant.
When they came into view, I noted they were gathered around a large round table covered in creamy white linen, laughing and drinking, and not looking particularly mournful about Mitzy’s passing. All easily identified by their perfect makeup and hair.
I recognized Alma Zon with her green-tipped locks, sitting with Octavia. Side by side, they sat by another guru, who had her leg slung up over the edge of the table as though she owned the place, and directly across from the very pretty Susie Masters. Margot was there, too, but she didn’t seem to notice us for staring blankly into her wine glass.
Coop touched the hostess on the shoulder, stopping her by a booth directly across from the makeup guru’s gathering.
“Is this booth reserved?” she asked. “Do you mind if we take this one?”
The hostess smiled warmly, her dark eyes welcoming. “Not at all. Please, have a seat.” She motioned for us to sit. I did so, and Higgs slid in next to me, with Coop sitting across from us as the hostess placed our menus on the table. “Gary will be right with you. Have a great evening!”
“That’s them,” Coop whispered from behind her menu.
“I’d have never guessed with all that glitter and lip gloss,” Higgs said on a chuckle.
I knocked his knee with mine and gave him my best stern nun’s look. “Quiet, funny man, and decide what you want for dinner. I’m starving, and I have no time to spare before I go into low-blood-sugar hangry.”
As if the waiter had read my mind, Gary appeared before us, smartly dressed in a cream and black polka dot bowtie and crisp white shirt with what certainly looked like a pained smile he’d plastered on his face to hide some sort of discomfort.
I watched his gaunt, bearded jaw tighten and his cheekbones hollow before he puffed them out and said, “Good evening, I’m Gary, and I’ll be your server. Can I get you all something to drink?”
As we placed our drink orders, I noticed the crowd of YT gurus getting louder, making poor Gary cringe. It was obvious there’d been a lot of drinking going on, judging by the two empty wine bottles on the table. Who knew how many they’d had before our arrival.
“They’re very loud,” Coop commented, putting her napkin in her lap. “I think they’re making Gary uncomfortable.”
“I think you’re right,” I whispered, watching from behind Higgs’s broad shoulder as the guru I think they called Ames Snarles pour the last of the wine and quite loudly comment his dissatisfaction because Gary hadn’t brought them another bottle.
“Gaaarrryyy! Garcon? Bring us more wine! Bring us more wine!” he bellowed sarcastically into the semi-full restaurant, using a fork and knife in each hand to bang on the table.
I saw Coop’s eyes widen, and I thought about how this was going to be another life lesson in fallen idols, but there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.
Unfortunately, being surrounded by humans meant she was subjected to this more often than not, and sometimes it was an effort to find the good in all the bad.
“That’s Ames Snarles, isn’t it, Coop? The guy you were telling me was beefing with Mitzy?”
She cupped her chin in her hand, her eyes downcast. “Yes,” was all she said in a stiff tone, and already I felt her disappointment.
“He does amazing makeup, Coop. He’s really good at it.”
She lifted her eyes to meet mine, her lips a thin line. “He also has an amazingly big mouth.”
Gary reappeared with drinks on a tray, inhaling deeply when Ames catcalled him, “Gary, there you are! Are you hiding from us? We need more wine, Gary. Your tip depends on it!”
I watched his thin chest inhale and exhale as though his patience were at a premium. “I’ll be with you in just a minute, Mr. Snarles. I’m just going to take down their order and I’ll be right over.”
As he set the glasses in front of us, he pulled out his pad to take our order, but Ames wasn’t going to let him off so easy.
“We were here first,
