Dropping it off at the table, I look at Jessie. Her expression is still all screwed up, and she’s forking the lettuce one piece at a time.

Deep down, I actually feel sorry for her.

She seems miserable.

I go back to the counter and retrieve a bottle of salad dressing.

Without saying a word, I deliver it to her table and walk away.

I’m not sure if she uses it, but life’s too short to not eat dressing on a salad.

* * *

George walks in a little after two.

Jessie’s long gone, and I’m in a much better mood. But the expectant way he looks at me tells me that there’s something coming.

“Hi, George.”

He smiles. “Delaney, big favour.”

I let out a sigh. “Is that a question or a demand?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Can I beg?”

“If you really want to, but maybe you should just tell me what this is about.”

He claps his hands together. “Well, we have a little problem. And by little, I mean really big one, and I’m hoping that you can help me?”

“It depends on what it is.”

He sighs. “I screwed up and I need dinner for an evening shoot on Friday. Your food went down so well, and I thought maybe we could try some Kiwi delicacies.”

“It’s awfully short notice.”

Nodding, he holds his palms up. “It’s totally my fault. I had it in my calendar for the wrong date, and I thought I had two more weeks.”

We could do it, especially if they pay as well as they did last time.

“How about you email me the details and I’ll take a look? What kind of Kiwi delicacies do you want? You know we don’t eat actual Kiwis, right?”

His tense expression disappears when he laughs. “I did know that. And whatever you feel is a good fit. As long as we have gluten-free, vegetarian, and vegan options.”

“Sure. We could do a good old-fashioned barbecue or something similar. Plenty of meat, but different salad options. That would be reasonably simple to do in bulk. I’d have to order the meat in though, so the sooner you can get me those details, the better.”

His relief is obvious as he lets out a long, loud breath. “Thank you. You’re a legend.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

He smiles. “You’re still the best. Thanks for even trying to help me.”

“If I can’t get enough meat, you can help me make sandwiches and salad.”

He laughs.

He thinks I’m kidding.

When I don’t laugh too, his laughter comes to an abrupt stop and his face drops.

“Get that email to me ASAP and I won’t need your help in the kitchen.”