Chapter 2 - THE BOY WHO ASKED FOR HANNAH
Hannah returned to table twelve carrying a tray with four glasses of water, a bottle of sparkling water, and a tall glass of lemonade.
She placed everything carefully on the table, beginning with Matthew.
“Here you go.”
The boy looked at the lemonade.
He did not touch it.
Hannah noticed the small details without meaning to.
His hands were folded too tightly.
His shoulders were rigid.
His eyes remained lowered.
She placed the glass a few inches closer to him.
“It's strawberry lemonade,” she said quietly. “Mrs. Romano makes it herself.”
For the first time, Matthew looked directly at her.
His eyes were dark and strangely serious.
“Does it have seeds?”
Hannah paused.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He studied her face for another second.
Then he reached for the glass.
It was such a small thing that nobody else at the table seemed to notice.
But Hannah did.
She smiled.
“I checked.”
Matthew took one careful sip.
Victor Davis watched the exchange without saying anything.
The other men at the table resumed their conversation, but their voices remained low.
Hannah opened her notepad.
“Whenever you're ready, I can take your order.”
Victor handed her the wine list without looking at it.
“Bring the Barolo.”
“Bottle or glass?”
“Bottle.”
Hannah nodded.
“And for dinner?”
Victor glanced around the table.
Everyone ordered quickly.
Steak.
Sea bass.
Pasta.
Risotto.
Then Hannah turned to Matthew.
“And what can I get you?”
Victor answered immediately.
“Chicken tenders.”
Matthew looked up.
“No.”
The table went silent.
Victor slowly turned toward his son.
“What?”
“I don't want chicken.”
Victor's expression hardened slightly.
“What do you want?”
Matthew looked at Hannah.
She crouched slightly so she was closer to his eye level.
“You can tell me.”
The boy hesitated.
“Spaghetti.”
Victor frowned.
“You don't eat spaghetti.”
“I do.”
“No, you don't.”
Matthew's fingers tightened around the lemonade glass.
Hannah noticed the change immediately.
She looked at Victor.
“If he'd like spaghetti, we can make him spaghetti.”
Victor stared at her.
“This isn't your concern.”
The words were not loud.
But they carried weight.
Hannah straightened.
“Of course.”
She turned to leave.
Then Matthew spoke.
“Please.”
One word.
Barely audible.
Hannah stopped.
She looked back.
Matthew was still staring at her.
“I'll bring the spaghetti,” she said.
Victor said nothing.
As Hannah walked toward the kitchen, she could feel Mrs. Romano watching her from the bar.
“What happened?” the older woman whispered when Hannah passed.
“Nothing.”
Mrs. Romano looked toward the booth.
“That's Victor Davis.”
Hannah glanced over her shoulder.
“Should I know him?”
Mrs. Romano lowered her voice.
“Everybody in this neighborhood knows him.”
Hannah frowned.
“Who is he?”
Mrs. Romano hesitated.
“Someone you don't want to make angry.”
Hannah gave a small shrug.
“I don't think I made him angry.”
“You told his son he could order spaghetti.”
“And?”
Mrs. Romano sighed.
“That may be the bravest thing you've done all year.”
Hannah smiled despite herself.
Then she carried the order into the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, she returned with the food.
Matthew's spaghetti was placed in front of him.
He stared at it.
Then, slowly, he picked up his fork.
Victor watched him take the first bite.
Something changed in his expression.
It was almost imperceptible.
Relief.
Hannah had just turned to serve the wine when she heard the sound of a fork hitting the floor.
Matthew froze.
One of the men at the table had dropped it.
The sharp metallic sound echoed through the dining room.
Matthew's face suddenly went pale.
His breathing changed.
Hannah turned.
“Matthew?”
The boy looked terrified.
Not startled.
Terrified.
He pushed his chair backward.
Victor immediately stood.
“Matthew.”
The boy shook his head.
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“Not again.”
Everyone at the table became silent.
Victor crouched beside him.
“Look at me.”
Matthew stared past him.
Hannah noticed something that Victor apparently did not.
The boy was looking at the restaurant's kitchen door.
At the narrow swinging door that had just moved slightly.
Hannah followed his gaze.
A waiter stepped through carrying plates.
Nothing unusual.
Yet Matthew's breathing grew faster.
Hannah moved closer.
“Matthew.”
He looked at her.
“It's okay.”
The words came naturally.
“You're here.”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“You're safe.”
For some reason, those words worked.
Matthew's breathing slowed.
Victor stared at Hannah.
He looked almost stunned.
“Sit down,” Hannah whispered.
Matthew slowly sat.
Victor remained beside him.
But Hannah could see something in his face now.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not for himself.
For his son.
A few minutes later, the dinner continued.
But something had changed.
Victor no longer looked at Hannah like a waitress.
He watched her carefully.
As if he were trying to understand what had just happened.
When the meal was nearly finished, Matthew quietly asked for more lemonade.
Hannah brought it.
Then he surprised her.
“Will you come tomorrow?”
Hannah smiled.
“I work tomorrow.”
“At this restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“Will you serve us?”
Hannah glanced at Victor.
He said nothing.
Matthew waited.
“I don't know,” she answered honestly.
The boy's face fell.
Then Victor spoke.
“She'll be here.”
Hannah looked at him.
Victor's expression was unreadable.
Matthew smiled for the first time.
It was tiny.
But it transformed his face.
Hannah felt something twist inside her chest.
She had no idea why this child mattered to her after only one evening.
She had no idea that within twenty-four hours, his life would become connected to hers in a way neither of them could have imagined.
At ten thirty, the Davis party finally left.
Victor signed the receipt and stood.
He paused beside Hannah.
“My son doesn't usually talk to strangers.”
Hannah folded her arms loosely.
“Maybe he doesn't think I'm a stranger.”
Victor looked at her for a long moment.
“Maybe.”
Then he left.
Hannah watched the black SUV disappear into the rain.
She turned back toward the dining room.
Mrs. Romano was standing behind the bar.
“You're in trouble,” the older woman said.
Hannah laughed.
“I served dinner.”
“No.”
Mrs. Romano shook her head.
“You did something much more dangerous.”
“What?”
“You made Victor Davis's son smile.”
Hannah rolled her eyes.
“That's hardly a crime.”
Mrs. Romano's expression became serious.
“No, sweetheart.”
She looked toward the rain-covered windows.
“But in this city, sometimes kindness makes people notice you.”
Neither woman noticed the black sedan parked across the street.
Inside it, a man watched the restaurant.
He held a photograph in his hand.
A photograph of Matthew.
May you like
On the back, someone had written a single sentence.
FIND OUT WHO THE WAITRESS IS.
