Chapter 11
A cool breeze wafted off the ocean as Traci Eddings sat at her usual table on the patio at the Verandah.
Garrett, her favorite waiter, appeared moments later, carrying a glass of iced mineral water with a lime slice.
“Thanks, Garrett,” she said, looking down at the notes she’d made back at the office.
“Can I bring you your usual, Mrs. E?”
Her usual was a lobster Cobb salad, but all that discussion of menu options from her newly hired chef had her thinking of trying something different.
“I’m feeling sort of adventurous today. What’s your favorite thing these days?”
“I love the crab cakes with remoulade, and we’ve also got a nice little fillet if you’re looking for something heartier.”
“How long have those crab cakes been on our menu?” she asked.
Garrett would know. He’d started working at the Saint while he was still in high school.
“We were serving them when I started working here before my senior year.”
“So, at least ten years. Can I ask you another question?”
“You’re the boss, Mrs. E.”
“How’s the morale among the restaurant staff? Are folks happy? Content? Anybody thinking of following Mehdi to her new job?”
He looked away. “Uh, well…”
“So, people are restless,” she said, reading his expression. “Go ahead and bring me the crab cakes.” He started to walk away, but she put out a hand and touched his shirt sleeve.
“Wait. Garrett, you’re not thinking of leaving us, are you?” She tried to tamp down the desperation in her voice.
Garrett was everyone’s favorite, both with the barnacle-encrusted regulars who’d been staying at the hotel for what seemed like centuries, and who appreciated that he always remembered their cocktail orders and their grandchildren’s names, but also the younger set, especially the women, because, with his mop of dark ringlets, twin dimples, deep brown eyes, and slender build, he was undeniably easy on the eyes.
His cheeks colored. “It’s a really good offer, Mrs. E. Mehdi says the customers there are younger, and bigger tippers. I mean, I don’t wanna leave. Y’all have been great to me…”
Traci unfolded her napkin and smoothed it across her lap. “I get it. Loyalty doesn’t pay the bills, does it? But you live right around the corner here, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I rent a room at my sister’s. But it’s so close, I can ride my bike to work most days, unless there’s a hurricane blowing.”
“So, how would you get to Surfside? It’s at least a thirty-minute drive from here.”
“That’s a problem, for sure,” he admitted, shoving both hands into the pockets of his waiter’s apron. “My car needs new tires, brakes, the works.”
“What if…” Traci started. “What if I raise your pay to what Surfside is offering?”
He grinned.
“You’re kinda the senior guy around here, right?”
“I guess.”
“Okay. How’s this? We make you headwaiter, starting now. We’ll also give you a hundred-dollar signing bonus.”
“I like the sound of that,” Garrett said, the grin widening.
“Just out of curiosity. Are you happy with your living situation?” she asked.
“Not so much, but Thea only charges me like a hundred bucks a week. I mean, I’d love to get an apartment, but no way I can afford to live around here. Not on my own.”
“Have you heard about the new staff dorm?”
“Yeah. I checked it out the other day. Looks like a pretty sweet setup. How much are you charging people?”
“Nothing. It’s all free. Including the Wi-Fi.”
He looked dubious. “Why? I mean, what’s the catch?”
“No catch. I don’t have to tell you, housing in the village is outrageously expensive. So this is an incentive, and a way for us to compete with the Surfsides of the world.”
He looked around, then pulled out the chair across from hers and sat down. “Are you saying—are you telling me I could live there? For free?”
“Absolutely,” Traci said.
“Okay, lemme get this order in for you. And about that dorm. If you’re serious, how soon could I move in?”
“The furniture is being delivered this afternoon. How does tomorrow sound?”
“Fucking awesome!” He pumped his fist in the air, then shrugged as he realized who he was talking to. “Sorry. My sister stays on my ass about my potty mouth.”
She laughed. “I tend not to trust anyone who doesn’t occasionally let an F-bomb fly. I’ll let HR know about your raise. Hopefully move-in is this weekend.”