“Later.”
“Stop saying later.”
“Please, Kait.”
Something in her voice frightened me.
Near the end of dinner, I went to the restroom. When I came back into the hallway, Marcy was waiting for me.
“Kaitlyn?”
I stopped. She glanced toward the dining room, where Chloe was watching us.
“You need to know what your son has been doing here all these years.”
My pulse jumped.
“What has he been doing?”
Marcy didn’t answer immediately. She looked over my shoulder.
“Watch.”
I turned. Leo had stood up from our booth. He walked past the register and disappeared behind the counter. My first instinct was to call him back, but something stopped me. Nobody questioned him. Nobody even looked surprised.
Leo reached for a black apron hanging beside the kitchen, slipped it over his head, tied it around his waist, and washed his hands. One waitress moved aside so he could reach the condiment station. Leo inspected the bottles, straightened two napkin holders, and then walked toward Mr. Howard’s table as naturally as if he had been doing it for years.
