“You made him smile again.”
Jolie Peters glanced up at Mandy Allen as she paused by her prep counter. The server never failed to pass on little tidbits like that, and it made her job—and the fillips she’d added to it of her own volition—worthwhile.
“Thanks, Mandy.”
It was a simple enough thing, an extra swirl of the house’s famous barbecue sauce on the rim of the plate was standard presentation, but it was Jolie who had had the idea of doing it in the initials of their regulars. And the staff was always careful to give the plate the right orientation so the customer couldn’t miss it.
“And Mrs. Sandoval really liked the monkfish. I told her you suggested it, because she likes lobster, and she said to pass along her thanks.”
Jolie’s smile widened. “Thanks. I really appreciate hearing that.”
And she did. It would have been easy enough for Mandy to have implied the suggestion was her own, but the woman was scrupulously honest.
“Peters!” She turned at the call from Martine Amaro, the woman responsible for keeping the back of the house running smoothly, which she did with the efficiency of a twenty-year drill sergeant. “Garza is here. You’re done.”
“With two minutes to spare,” she muttered as she headed to the employee room, pulling off and dropping the crisp white apron and cap into the laundry cart on the way. Because heaven forbid she should run into overtime.
She immediately apologized silently to the woman who was in charge of keeping things moving. Not only had she hired her when many wouldn’t, but Mrs. Amaro had been more than fair, had allowed her to adjust her hours to be in keeping with Emma’s day care, and when there were leftovers to be doled out, she made sure a portion was saved for Jolie even if she was off shift.
She wasn’t getting rich, but she was getting by. Her apartment was in an old building and not in the greatest area, but it had been renovated recently enough. Her car was a decade old but reliable. Most important, her daughter’s day care was close enough to walk to for lunch, well staffed and utterly trustworthy. Between the cost for it and her rent, she had little extra, but she was content. She had, after all, come a very long way.
“See you for a moment, Ms. Peters?”
Uh-oh.
The reaction to Mrs. Amaro’s words was instinctive. Things had been going well here, and she thought she was all right, but nothing in her life had ever stayed right for long, except Emma. Jolie had been here nearly a year, but she never took anything good for granted. She never expected anything good to last. Because in her experience, it never did.
As she walked toward the office, her mind was racing. If she lost this job, what would she do? She was finally at ease, if not happy with her life. It had been a long, difficult trek to get to that point. Was it now going to blow up in her face? She’d been honest about her past, so at least there was nothing there to come back and bite her. She—
“Sit down,” the older woman directed.
Jolie sat. She tried to fight down the tension rising in her, but it was hard. She’d spent so much of her life in one scrape or another that she couldn’t help thinking she had—unknowingly this time—wound up in another one.
“Relax,” Mrs. Amaro said, and smiled. She did it so rarely it took Jolie aback. It changed her entire face, made the stern, brusque woman seem kind and approachable.
Jolie let out a breath. “I was afraid I was in trouble.”
“Quite the opposite. You’re doing good work.”
The last of her tension drained away, replaced by a warm relief. “Thank you.”
“In fact,” her boss said, “you’re getting a raise.”
Jolie nearly gaped at her. This, she would never have expected.
“Courtesy—” Mrs. Amaro’s smile widened “—of the governor.”
She blinked. “What?”
“He appreciated that you put his initials and campaign logo on all the plates at his fund-raiser back in July. The head of catering staff told him it was something we did for our regulars. The governor promised us his next function, and suggested whoever had thought of it should get a raise.”
“I...wow.”
Although she admired the governor and appreciated his graciousness to the staff, she had volunteered to work the prep for that fund-raiser mainly because the extra money would pay for Emma’s day care for the rest of the month. True, it had taken some time and practice to get the logo right, but she had liked doing it. And she was surprised the busy man had even noticed, let alone taken the trouble to say something.
“Thank you,” Jolie said. “Thank you very much.”
Mrs. Amaro dismissed the gratitude with a palm-out gesture, but she was still smiling. “Thank the governor.”
Jolie couldn’t help smiling back. “I’ll just drop in this afternoon and tell him.” When the woman’s smile became a grin, she added, “But thank you, too. You’ve always been more than fair to me, and you’ve understood about Emma, and I appreciate it so much.”
The grin changed to a thoughtful expression. Then the older woman said softly, “I was where you were once. A young mother, alone, scared, trying to get myself off a wrong path.”
Jolie’s breath caught in her throat. It was hard to imagine Martine Amaro as anything other than in control. “I didn’t know.”
“Not something I advertise,” she said rather gruffly. “But you’re doing well. And I think you will continue that way. You know what’s important, setting an example