The additional place setting appeared within about ten seconds, and then the sommelier arrived.
“Do you have any questions about our wine list, Mr. Wolfe?” she asked.
“I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to peruse it yet. We just got here.”
“Excellent,” she said. “If you do have questions, my name is Eleanor, and I’m at your service.” She bowed slightly and then left us alone.
I was used to obsequiousness in restaurants. The servers were all out for Wolfe tips. The thing was, they didn’t have to kiss my ass. I always tipped well for good service. That was all I ever expected.
My old man used to like having his ass kissed.
All this time, I’d known he was a bastard. Never in a million years, though, had I considered that he might be a psychopathic criminal as well.
What he’d done to this woman next to me…
She was so strong. She didn’t even know how strong she was.
She turned to me, still with red cheeks. “Thank you for…for having my shoes repaired.”
“You’re very welcome. It’s the least I could do.”
“But the other stuff,” she continued. “The other five pairs. I’m afraid I couldn’t accept them.”
“Of course you can. I want you to have them.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve already shipped them back to the return address.”
My stomach dropped. Why did I care so much? I’d sent out a personal shopper with Zee’s shoe size on a whim. This shouldn’t bother me.
But it did.
“I told her she was nuts,” Mo said.
“You’ll have to excuse Mo,” Zee said. “She’s a shoe whore.”
Zee’s description shocked me a little, but Mo brushed it off.
“I admit it,” she said. “I love shoes, and those were some beauties.”
“It was very generous of you,” Zee said, “but it was just too much.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” I picked up my menu. “What are you ladies in the mood for tonight?”
Nice save, Reid. Why was this bothering me? I’d sent the shoes as a way to woo Zee, but now I realized I truly wanted her to have them. Why?
Was it because…?
Guilt? Guilt for what my father had done to her?
Maybe, though what he did wasn’t my fault in any way. If Roy and I had known what he was doing all those years, we would have stopped it. Tried our damned best, anyway.
But as Riley told us, he most likely wouldn’t have let us.
Derek Wolfe held all the power.
No longer. The bastard was dead and cremated. but his partner in crime—Father Jim—was still very much alive.
And Zee could identify him.
This dinner wasn’t going to get me into Zee’s head or into Zee’s bed. She’d seen to that by inviting Mo along.
I couldn’t blame her, honestly. She was scared. It was written all over her face.
“I’m in the mood for a giant hunk of lasagna,” Mo said and then sighed. “But I’ll probably have the braised cod with lemon.”
I glanced over the menu. “I don’t see that option.”
“It’s not on there,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be cod. Tilapia is fine. Or sole.”
“Sole?” Nieves had ordered the Dover sole at lunch, though I’d had to cancel her order when she left abruptly after getting the call about Leta.
“Any kind of white fish,” Mo said. “Zee and I are on strict diets.”
“Not tonight,” I said. “The sky’s the limit. You ladies order whatever you’d like.”
“And then we’ll have to deal with Tiger tomorrow,” Mo said.
“Who’s Tiger?”
“She’s the choreographer. I swear the woman can see one extra ounce on our bodies.”
“Do you agree, Zee?” I asked.
“I agree about Tiger,” she said, “but Mo knows I don’t stick to her diet as strictly as most of the girls do.”
“Zee is lucky. Nothing ever changes on her gorgeous bod.”
“You both look amazing to me,” I said.
Mo giggled and blushed. Zee stayed silent and blushed.
“Seriously,” I said. “I want you both to order what you want. Even if you only take a few bites. Take the rest home in a doggie bag and have few bites each day until it’s gone. You’ve got to live a little sometimes.”
“Actually,” Zee said, finally meeting my gaze, “I couldn’t agree more.”
15
Zee
Reid’s eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead, which didn’t surprise me. Of course my words shocked him. They shocked me as well.
I wasn’t sure where they’d come from.
Mo was a stickler for our strict diet, but she was right. I was not. I’d been starved during my modeling years. I knew hunger, and it wasn’t pretty.
So never again. Not that I overindulged much, but I never starved myself.
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Zee,” Reid said. “What looks good to you tonight? Or do you want to wait to hear the chef’s specials?”
I picked up the menu and scanned it quickly. “Cedar plank salmon. Salmon is my favorite fish.”
“Salmon is wonderful,” Reid agreed, “but it seems like a red meat kind of night.”
“I don’t eat a lot of red meat.”
“Why not?”
“Never had the taste for it.” True story. It just wasn’t my thing.
“Fair enough. Salmon it is. And you, Mo?” Reid asked.
“I’m afraid I’ll be going with the cod with lemon.”
“As you wish. I’ll see that the chef prepares it to your specifications.”
Eleanor appeared tableside. “Just checking in, Mr. Wolfe.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t glanced at the wine list yet, but I’m in the mood for a red Burgundy tonight. Just bring me your best bottle. How does that sound, ladies?”
“Lovely,” Mo gushed.
“I know very little about wine,” I said.
“It’ll go nicely with your salmon,” Reid replied.
“Red wine? With fish?”
“Oh, yeah. That old only-white-with-fish thing is a myth.”
“I agree,” Eleanor said. “I have a lovely aged Burgundy that will enhance anything on our menu. Thank you, Mr. Wolfe.” Again, she bowed slightly.
Finally our server came by for our cocktail order. Reid declined for all of us, saying we’d already ordered a bottle of wine. The server—Jason—left red-faced and embarrassed.
“I feel bad for him,” I said.
“He should have come around before the sommelier,” Reid said. “He’s late, and he feels guilty. Rightfully so.”
“Rightfully so?”
“Yes.
