Chapter 2 - The Waitress Who Never Complained
At eleven the next morning, Marin was polishing wine glasses when Bernadette approached.
“Did you sleep?”
“Four hours.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Marin smiled weakly.
“It’s enough.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Bernadette lowered her voice.
“I’m talking to Mr. Santoro today.”
Marin stopped polishing.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Bernie—”
“I saw your wrist.”
Marin immediately pulled down her sleeve.
“You saw nothing.”
“I saw Celeste Whitlock grab you.”
“She was upset.”
“She slapped you Tuesday.”
Marin looked around the service station.
“Lower your voice.”
Bernadette’s expression hardened.
“She threw a champagne glass at Naomi.”
“It didn’t hit Naomi.”
“She takes tip money from the staff.”
Marin said nothing.
Bernadette leaned closer.
“Why are you protecting her?”
“I’m protecting my job.”
“Rafael Santoro doesn’t know.”
“And what happens when you tell him?”
“He stops it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ve known that man since he was twenty-two.”
“And I’ve known rich people my entire working life.”
Marin set down the glass.
“When somebody has to choose between their fiancée and a waitress, Bernie, the waitress starts looking for another job.”
Bernadette stared at her.
“Not this time.”
A voice interrupted.
“Not what time?”
Both women froze.
Celeste Whitlock stood behind them.
She looked immaculate in a cream designer dress, diamond earrings, and heels that probably cost more than Marin’s car.
Her smile was beautiful.
It never reached her eyes.
Bernadette straightened.
“Good afternoon, Miss Whitlock.”
Celeste looked at Marin.
“I asked you a question.”
Marin picked up another glass.
“Bernadette was explaining tonight’s seating.”
Celeste studied her.
“Of course she was.”
Then she smiled.
“Marin, come with me.”
Bernadette stepped forward.
“She’s working.”
Celeste turned slowly.
“So am I.”
“You don’t work here.”
There was silence.
Celeste’s eyes narrowed.
“No. I suppose I’ll merely own part of it after I marry Rafael.”
Bernadette didn’t move.
Celeste leaned toward her.
“You should remember that.”
Then she walked away.
Marin followed.
She had learned months earlier that refusing only made things worse.
Inside the private dining room, Celeste shut the door.
“You’ve been talking.”
“No.”
“Bernadette suddenly develops courage after thirty years?”
“She’s always had courage.”
Celeste stepped closer.
“That sounded almost disrespectful.”
Marin kept her hands at her sides.
“What do you want?”
Celeste laughed softly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That tone.”
“I don’t have a tone.”
“You poor women always do that. You pretend you’re humble until somebody gives you a uniform and suddenly you think you belong in the room.”
Marin looked at her.
“I serve food in the room. I’ve never confused that with owning it.”
Celeste’s smile disappeared.
“Watch yourself.”
Marin said nothing.
Celeste opened her purse and removed a folded sheet.
“Tonight’s engagement dinner. Thirty-two guests. I want your team assigned exclusively.”
“Bernadette handles assignments.”
“I’m telling you.”
“Then tell Bernadette.”
Celeste moved closer.
“You’re testing me.”
“No, Miss Whitlock. I’m tired.”
Celeste’s eyes dropped toward Marin’s glove.
Then she suddenly grabbed her left wrist.
Marin winced.
“Take that off.”
“What?”
“The glove.”
Celeste pulled.
Marin jerked her hand away.
“Don’t.”
Celeste froze.
For the first time, Marin had physically resisted her.
“What did you say?”
“I said don’t.”
Celeste stepped forward.
Marin stood her ground.
The private dining room door opened.
Both women turned.
Rafael entered.
Celeste released Marin instantly.
“Darling.”
Rafael looked from Celeste to Marin.
“What’s happening?”
“Nothing.”
Marin lowered her eyes.
Celeste smiled.
“She cut herself opening a bottle. I was checking her hand.”
Rafael looked at Marin.
“You need medical attention?”
“No, sir.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Rafael nodded.
“Celeste, I need five minutes.”
“Of course.”
Marin headed for the door.
As she passed Rafael, he noticed something.
Her glove was torn.
Beneath it, purple bruising circled her wrist.
Rafael’s eyes followed her.
Celeste touched his chest.
“Rafe?”
He looked back.
“What happened to her hand?”
“I just told you.”
“That wasn’t a cut.”
Celeste laughed.
“You’re interrogating me over a waitress?”
“No.”
His voice changed.
“I’m asking a question.”
Celeste’s expression stiffened.
“I don’t know. Maybe she bruises easily.”
Rafael stared at her.
Then he opened the door.
“Bernadette.”
The head waitress appeared almost immediately.
“Yes?”
“My office. Now.”
Celeste’s face changed.
“Rafael.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“We have guests arriving.”
“They can wait.”
Rafael walked away with Bernadette.
Celeste remained alone in the private dining room.
Her jaw tightened.
Then she looked toward the service corridor where Marin had disappeared.
May you like
Whatever Bernadette was about to say, Celeste intended to make certain Rafael never believed it.
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