"Hey, chiquita,” Jorge called from the kitchen as Harriet entered the restaurant. “You alone?"
It was early for dinner, and only two tables were occupied. A teenaged couple sat in the back corner, their heads close, whispering words meant only for each other. A larger group was clustered around two tables that had been pushed together and were laden with an assortment of nachos, quesadillas and taquitos. Probably co-workers on their way home from work, Harriet mused.
"Here we go,” Jorge said a few minutes later as he set a heaping stoneware bowl of freshly made guacamole and a basket of warm tortilla chips on the table at the booth where Harriet was sitting. He slid into the seat opposite her. “Next time you have a party, you let me know, and I'll fix food that will stick to your ribs."
Harriet stared at him.
"I can make fancy food, too, you know,” he said with a smile.
"How…?"
"Your aunt and Mavis picked up burritos a half-hour ago, Carla called in a takeout order for her boyfriend to pick up, and if you didn't see the blond one with the smart mouth in the parking lot, then you just missed her."
"Lauren was here?” Harriet was only surprised because, even though Foggy Point wasn't exactly a metropolis, people who lived on or near the water at Smuggler's Cove tended to frequent the cafes and pubs in their neighborhood. As a new resident of the area, she'd thought Lauren had been doing the same.
"Yeah, that's the one. She's become a bit of a regular since you had all those secret meetings in the back room. She likes my cheese nachos,” he added with a grin.
Harriet dipped a chip into the guacamole and slowly ate it, savoring the smooth flavor.
"Mmmm,” she said with a groan.
"Okay, I know my guacamole is good. Your theatrics are good for an old man's ego, but I've got chicken in the oven I have to tend to. What is it you want, chiquita?"
"I can't fool you, can I?” she said and laughed. “Okay, I was just wondering if you'd seen a young black woman with a baby around town."
"The same one your aunt was asking about?” Jorge grinned.
"That would be the one."
"I'll tell you what I told her and Mavis. I saw the woman, but not the baby. She came in here earlier today, met a guy for an early lunch and was out of here in less than an hour."
"What guy?"
"I don't know his name. I've seen him in here once or twice. Not with the se-orita, though."
"What did he look like?"
"Skinny, pale, probably late thirties or early forties. Light-brown hair. Looks like he works indoors.” Jorge paused and looked up for a moment. “That's all I can think of. He looks like a lot of guys."
"That must have been during the baby shower, when she was supposed to be out buying baby formula."
"I have to go check my pollo. If I see her-or him-again, I'll give you a call."
"Thanks, Jorge,” she said and then explained about her phone and the need to call her land line.
"No problem. You want to try some of my pollo verde?"
"Sounds great,” Harriet said and dug into her chips again.
A few minutes later, a young woman with long dark hair in a braid down her back, dressed in a bright pink-and-orange ruffled skirt and white embroidered peasant shirt, set down a platter heaped with chicken in a green chili sauce, red rice and pinto beans topped with crumbled cotija cheese, and a generous scoop of sour cream. She also brought a plastic container that held soft hand-sized flour tortillas. She left, then returned a moment later with a frosty glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade.
Harriet pondered Neelie's lunch date as she ate. There was clearly more going on with her than the story she was telling.
"You need a box for the leftovers, chiquita?” Jorge asked when he returned to her table a half-hour later. He set a foam carry-out box next to her plate.
"This was enough for three people,” she said. “It was very good, though."
"And you're going to need to feed that young man of yours."
"He's not home yet, and I don't know when he'll be back."
"As it happens, he's on his way now."
"What?"
"He called while I was fixing your plate. He tried your home phone, and when you didn't answer, he took a chance and called here. He was just leaving Ephrata. That should be a four-and-a-half-hour drive, but with a truckload of dogs it could be twice that."
"How did he sound?"
"I won't lie, chiquita,” Jorge said and rubbed his large hand over his face. “He sounded bone-weary. He won't be driving the truck, so don't worry about that,” he hastened to add.
"I wish there was something I could do."
"There is. Just be you. Be there for him, and don't expect anything for a while. He's a tough boy. He'll get through this. He just cares a lot for the animals."
Jorge sat with her for a few more minutes, neither of them speaking.
"I better get back to work,” he finally said.
"Thanks for letting me try the chicken."
"De nada,” he said. “And don't even try to pay. Just because Aiden isn't here doesn't mean the rules change."
Jorge took his job as surrogate father seriously, and steadfastly refused to take money from “family,"a fact that made Harriet decidedly uncomfortable.
She walked slowly back to her car. If what she'd seen on the video was true, Neelie's sister was still alive. Could she have sent her baby to Aiden for some reason other than her health? Did she not want the child? If that were true, then who was Neelie having lunch with? If she were simply a courier for her sister, she wouldn't know anyone here-certainly not well enough to be arguing with them.
For a moment, she wished Aiden wasn't coming home. She instantly felt guilty for the thought, but she needed time to figure out what was going on.
She drove home turning things over in her mind and, hindsight being what it is, was starting to wonder if she'd done the right thing when she didn't tell Aiden everything right from the start.