“Yes.”
“Lite on the dressing,” Tyler instructed Carrie. “If it’s swimming in it we will not hesitate to return it.”
Carrie nodded, taking down that request too. “Anything else?” she asked them, looking at Tyler this time.
“That’s it,” Tyler said, and Carrie began to collect their menus. She grabbed Robert’s menu without a problem, trying hard not to so much as look in his eyes. Tyler, however, reached for her glass of wine just as Carrie reached for her menu, and the collision of hands caused the glass to tip over and spill onto Tyler’s beautiful, expensive, eggshell white Chenille pantsuit. Carrie’s heart dropped.
“No-you-didn’t!” Tyler yelled as she jumped from her seat, the wine draining like a paint brush down the front of her white jacket.
“Oh, no!” Carrie said nervously, seeing the damage too, as other patrons in the restaurant looked their way.
Robert stood up and grabbed the overturned, still pouring glass, to try and minimize the damage, but he knew the damage had already been done. He looked at Carrie. As he had suspected, she was nearly frantic with regret. She kept saying “I’m so sorry,” over and over, her sad eyes now wide with worry as she grabbed napkins to see if she could help undo this nightmare she had just caused.
But Tyler was too angry to even consider Carrie’s help. She slung Carrie’s shaky hand away from her, calling her a “clumsy witch” as she did. But Carrie insisted on helping, believing desperately that dabbing napkins on the stain could lessen its’ impact. Tyler, however, was furious.
“If you don’t stop touching me!” she yelled angrily and slung Carrie’s small hands away from her again. Robert knew Tyler all too well and moved to get in front of her before that temper of hers really erupted, but he didn’t move fast enough. Tyler, just appalled that some lowly waitress could ruin her evening like this, looked at Carrie with renewed anger and then slapped her hard across the face.
“Tyler, that’s enough!” Robert shouted angrily and lunged toward her, pulling her back and away from Carrie before she could do further harm. The entire restaurant went silent, watching this live movie, and Alphonso, who had been summoned by his staff, began hurrying to the table.
Robert, like everybody else in the room, looked at Carrie. And that look on her face did him in. He didn’t see anger there. He didn’t see a woman ready to do as most females in her position would have done and returned Tyler’s insult with a slap of her own. All he saw was disappointment. And sadness. And the kind of deep-seated hurt and pain that no one event could have possibly caused. Tyler’s slap, Robert believed, was just the accumulation of a long road of heartache this young woman had undoubtedly endured.
Carrie had wanted to slap Tyler back. She wanted to with all that she had. But she held back. Not because of any great restraint that she had, but because she knew she’d be fired for certain if she fought a customer. “I said I’m sorry,” she said, regulating the emotion in her voice.
“You’re sorry all right,” Tyler shot back from behind Robert, who now stood between the two ladies. “That’s your problem. You’re lazy and sorry and every other poor excuse for a human being! I can’t stand people like you. Probably did it on purpose anyway.”
“On purpose?” Carrie said, astonished, her voice now strained, tears beginning to well up in her pretty eyes. Robert’s heart ached for her when he saw the glimmer of tears and all he wanted at that very moment was to pull her into his arms and protect her from barracudas like Tyler Langley for the rest of her life. But who’d protect his heart from her, he wondered, when her true colors were inevitably revealed and she turned out to
“Lite on the dressing,” Tyler instructed Carrie. “If it’s swimming in it we will not hesitate to return it.”
Carrie nodded, taking down that request too. “Anything else?” she asked them, looking at Tyler this time.
“That’s it,” Tyler said, and Carrie began to collect their menus. She grabbed Robert’s menu without a problem, trying hard not to so much as look in his eyes. Tyler, however, reached for her glass of wine just as Carrie reached for her menu, and the collision of hands caused the glass to tip over and spill onto Tyler’s beautiful, expensive, eggshell white Chenille pantsuit. Carrie’s heart dropped.
“No-you-didn’t!” Tyler yelled as she jumped from her seat, the wine draining like a paint brush down the front of her white jacket.
“Oh, no!” Carrie said nervously, seeing the damage too, as other patrons in the restaurant looked their way.
Robert stood up and grabbed the overturned, still pouring glass, to try and minimize the damage, but he knew the damage had already been done. He looked at Carrie. As he had suspected, she was nearly frantic with regret. She kept saying “I’m so sorry,” over and over, her sad eyes now wide with worry as she grabbed napkins to see if she could help undo this nightmare she had just caused.
But Tyler was too angry to even consider Carrie’s help. She slung Carrie’s shaky hand away from her, calling her a “clumsy witch” as she did. But Carrie insisted on helping, believing desperately that dabbing napkins on the stain could lessen its’ impact. Tyler, however, was furious.
“If you don’t stop touching me!” she yelled angrily and slung Carrie’s small hands away from her again. Robert knew Tyler all too well and moved to get in front of her before that temper of hers really erupted, but he didn’t move fast enough. Tyler, just appalled that some lowly waitress could ruin her evening like this, looked at Carrie with renewed anger and then slapped her hard across the face.
“Tyler, that’s enough!” Robert shouted angrily and lunged toward her, pulling her back and away from Carrie before she could do further harm. The entire restaurant went silent, watching this live movie, and Alphonso, who had been summoned by his staff, began hurrying to the table.
Robert, like everybody else in the room, looked at Carrie. And that look on her face did him in. He didn’t see anger there. He didn’t see a woman ready to do as most females in her position would have done and returned Tyler’s insult with a slap of her own. All he saw was disappointment. And sadness. And the kind of deep-seated hurt and pain that no one event could have possibly caused. Tyler’s slap, Robert believed, was just the accumulation of a long road of heartache this young woman had undoubtedly endured.
Carrie had wanted to slap Tyler back. She wanted to with all that she had. But she held back. Not because of any great restraint that she had, but because she knew she’d be fired for certain if she fought a customer. “I said I’m sorry,” she said, regulating the emotion in her voice.
“You’re sorry all right,” Tyler shot back from behind Robert, who now stood between the two ladies. “That’s your problem. You’re lazy and sorry and every other poor excuse for a human being! I can’t stand people like you. Probably did it on purpose anyway.”
“On purpose?” Carrie said, astonished, her voice now strained, tears beginning to well up in her pretty eyes. Robert’s heart ached for her when he saw the glimmer of tears and all he wanted at that very moment was to pull her into his arms and protect her from barracudas like Tyler Langley for the rest of her life. But who’d protect his heart from her, he wondered, when her true colors were inevitably revealed and she turned out to
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