Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
She bows her head so quickly that I can’t be sure if what I thought was a tear in her eye was a mirage or not. She takes a breath, and by the time our gazes meet again, there’s no trace of a tear. All I see is sadness in her eyes.
“You have a way with words, William.”
I assume that’s a compliment, but it’s delivered in such an empty tone that it feels more like a slap across my face.
I’m about to open my mouth to ask her how I can right the wrong I’m obviously responsible for, but a server is approaching with the bottle of wine I ordered in her hand.
She greets us with pleasantries about our dinner choices and then segues effortlessly into talking about the weather. Opal joins in on that and keeps it going as the woman pours a small amount of wine for her to try.
Opal doesn’t bother to sample its fragrance. She downs the small amount of wine in one gulp, nods her approval, and motions to her glass. “I love it.”
Once the woman fills the glass, it’s back at Opal’s lips. She drinks half before my glass is filled.
“I’ll be back with your entrees soon,” the server says to Opal. “Can I get you anything in the meantime?”
“You can point me in the direction of the washroom,” Opal replies, and I can’t say I’m the least bit surprised.
I’m no expert in the subtle art of avoidance, but luckily, Opal is not being the least bit subtle. She’s acting like I’m covered from head to toe in Dicey Dip. I can’t say I’d be surprised if she climbs out of the washroom window and makes a break for it.
Before the server can answer, a punchy pop song’s chorus suddenly blasts from somewhere near us. It’s loud enough to startle just about everyone in our vicinity. One even darts to her feet, but that might not be purely out of surprise since she’s now dancing next to her chair. Granted, she can’t be more than six or seven years old.
“That’s me,” Opal owns the interruption. “It’s my phone.”
I try to keep a straight face because how fucking amazing is she? I’ve always relied on a standard ringtone, but she may be on to something.
She tugs her phone out of her tote bag and scans the screen before she answers. “Hi. It’s Opal.”
Not two seconds pass before she’s up and out of her chair. “What? Oh no. Oh no.”
That gets me standing too, because I know panic when I see it, and it’s written across Opal’s expression as she rakes a hand through her hair. “What am I going to do?”
I try to grab her attention by flailing a hand in the air, but she’s too focused on the floor. Her gaze is cast down, her hand is still running through her hair, and her breathing is labored.
“I’m coming now,” she snaps into the phone. “I’ll get there as quick as I can.”
I yank out the cash I always keep in my pocket and toss a few bills on the table to cover the cost of our dinner, the bottle of wine, and the tip I would have left.
The server looks at me. “I’m sure I can cancel your entrees.”
Before I can say a thing back in response, she’s gone, headed toward the kitchen.
Opal’s fingers fly over the screen of her phone as she initiates another call. She glances at me briefly before she looks to the ceiling. “Damn voicemail.” Another few seconds pass before she speaks into the phone again, “I need you to get to my bar now. It’s Opal. Please hurry. It’s an emergency.”
She ends the call, drops the phone in her bag, and steps away from the table. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I fall in step behind her as she’s headed toward the door of the bistro.
“Turquoise Crown is flooded.” Her voice shakes as she shares that with me.
“Flooded?” I ask as we exit the bistro.
She spins to face me. “Hildy went to pick up a book she’d left on the bar this morning. She stepped inside, and right away, her shoe landed in a puddle of water…actually, she said it’s more like a lake.”
“Fuck.” I rub the center of my forehead. “What do you need, Opal?”
“I need the contractor to get to my bar now.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I have no idea what I’ll do if he doesn’t call me back.”
I tug my phone from my pocket and scroll through my contact list. “I’m calling someone who can help us now.”
She doesn’t ask who it is. She only nods softly. “Thank you.”
I brush past her to sprint to the sidewalk as I spot an available cab approaching on the street. I flag him down just as my contractor answers the call.