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Was it a typical thing to go out to dinner with the police officer investigating the case of your business’s robbery? Brittany wasn’t sure this was a question she wanted to answer. But there he sat: Officer Brad Wethers, who now was tearing the edge of his napkin nervously as Heather ordered the appetizer platter, with its crunchy onion rings, its quesadillas, its mozzarella sticks, and its chicken wings. Heather then ordered a glass of rosé for herself, while Nicole opted for red wine. Brad hummed to himself, seemingly nervous, before he finally told the server, “I’ll do an IPA.” Brittany ordered an Aperol Spritz, a newfound delight that she’d heard was a specialty in Italy. Just after she ordered, her eyes met with Brad’s, and a blush crept up her cheeks.
“I’ve never heard of that before,” Brad said, his eyes alight with curiosity.
“Our Brittany’s been changing her brand for the past few months,” Heather said, folding her hands daintily across the table. “The new clothes. The spin classes. The rocking bod... And now, the Italian cocktail. I mean, come on. Are you trying to prove you’re better than the rest of us?”
Brittany’s laugh twinkled across the restaurant even as embarrassment stewed in the base of her belly. “It’s refreshing,” she admitted with a shrug.
“Ciao Bella,” Nicole teased, really laying into the Italian accent.
“Will you make them stop?” Brittany asked Brad. “Arrest them? Something?”
Luke appeared at the edge of the table, a bluster of nervous energy as he removed his coat and kissed Heather on the cheek.
“I hope I didn’t miss anything?” Luke asked as he sat alongside Heather, burrowing himself over the drink menu. His eyes then scanned across the table, catching Officer Brad, who he nodded to. “I’ve seen you around, Officer, but I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced.”
“Brad. Brad Wethers.” Brad raised a hand in greeting, his eyes nervous.
Brittany had no idea what Brad’s private life was like. His fingers were bare, proof he was unmarried, and he seemed to fret over the smallest of words thrown his way, as though he wasn’t often in social situations and wasn’t sure what to make of them.
The server arrived back at the table with their drinks, including the round glass emitting the soft orange glow of Brittany’s Aperol Spritz. Brad quickly took a drink, allowing the alcohol to wash away his anxiety and allowing a new sense of confidence to sweep over him. Brittany wanted to tell him to loosen up, that nobody was out to get him or make him look like a fool. But those words alone were like an attack.
“How’s that beer?” Luke suddenly asked Brad.
Brad flashed a smile. “It’s really good. I’ve always preferred bottled over draft.”
“That’s a good enough review for me,” Luke said confidently. “I’ll have that.”
As they sipped through their drinks and chatted amicably, awaiting their food, Brad’s shoulders eased back, his chin lifted. Heather and Nicole gabbed about the endless filing and organization that was required to potentially get Brittany’s antiques back. Luke asked Brittany a series of questions about the disastrous weekend, including whether or not she’d had any contact with Conner. Brittany just sighed and said Conner refused to answer her calls, and his lawyer had essentially shoved both her and Officer Brad off with a “come back when you have proof” sentiment.
“I never liked that guy,” Luke muttered, his nostrils flaring.
Brittany wanted to tell him that words like that made her feel about three inches small. They seemed to indicate that for all those years, everyone had just sat around, waiting for her to kick him out. Like she’d been this weak woman nobody had respected.
“Well, I think he’s up to no good,” Nicole affirmed. “You already said it was weird how quiet he’s been since he went away.”
“It is strange,” Brittany said contemplatively. “Especially because the tiniest things used to mean a hurricane-level breakdown on his part. Like, if he’d envisioned something different for dinner than what I cooked. Or...”
“God. What. A. Narcissist,” Heather shot out pointedly, puffing out her cheeks.
“It’s not easy to see from within a relationship,” Brad interjected simply, rushing to Brittany’s aid.
Brittany eyed him curiously, grateful that he’d offered her this brief moment of empathy. Her throat tight, she whispered, “Thanks for saying that,” just as Luke’s drink arrived and Nicole edged them toward conversations that had nothing to do with Conner Radley.
As Evan Snow owned the restaurant, he soon breezed out of the back office, wearing a suit and a pair of shiny shoes and that same confident grin, one that only the Snow men could muster. A shiver rushed up and down Brittany’s spine as he knelt to kiss Nicole on the cheek and wave a hand toward everyone else.
“Sit with us!” Nicole instructed. “We have so many appetizers coming. I know for a fact you’ve been working out too much. You have to feed those muscles.”
“I don’t know about that.” But in a flash, he grabbed a chair from behind him, whipped it around, and sidled it between Nicole and Brittany.
As Evan slid in beside her, a server approached with a vodka-based cocktail and placed it directly in front of Evan without asking.
“Great service,” Luke joked. “Are they scared of you?”
Evan laughed. “They shouldn’t be. I just gave everyone a raise. Nicole convinced me to increase it to make up for the nights where they don’t make much in tips. It makes total sense and it should encourage them to work a little harder.”
Nicole beamed as she took a sip of wine. “I just don’t think it’s fair for servers to rely on their tips to offset their checks. We’ve implemented that system at Acadia Eatery, and I think there’s a general air of goodwill— we’re there for our employees, and they’re there for us.”
“Nice system,” Brittany interjected, which drew Evan Snow’s eyes toward hers. What was this expression he gave her? Was it pride? Fear? Did he remember all those evenings he’d spent with her, Conner, and his wife, who’d died so tragically? Or were memories different for other people? Did they not stick in the same way?
“Thank you,” Evan said. He then bowed his head to add, “I was really horrified to hear what happened with Bar Harbor Antiques. I’m so sorry.”
Brittany bristled. A strange and curious suspicion latched in the base of her stomach and seemed to grow up the sides of her belly. Was it possible that Evan knew something about the robbery, even outside of her close circles? Was it possible that he’d learned of the incident through Conner himself?
Trusting Evan Snow meant deleting an entire portion of her brain.
The appetizers arrive. Brittany’s stomach twisted itself into knots. She gulped her Aperol Spritz as Evan talked about a redesign of one of his other restaurants, where they would soon experiment with a lobster menu. Brittany was reminded yet again of Conner, her lobster fisherman husband. Was this his doing?
When the server returned to ask about dinner orders, Heather, Nicole, Luke, and Evan ordered simply— salmon fillets drizzled with lemon, chunky mashed potatoes with plenty of butter, crab cakes, and seafood risotto. Brittany had forgotten to look at the menu for the main course. Apparently, Brad had, too.
“Sorry. Gosh. I don’t know.” Brad grabbed his menu again and flashed a finger toward a steak, which he wanted “medium-rare.” Brittany said, “That sounds good,” and passed her menu across the table, back toward the server. After the server left, she asked Brad, “Wait. What did you order?” And Brad laughed outright, sensing that her mind had been elsewhere.
“I got a steak. So did you.”
“Oh gosh. No! I don’t want that.” Brittany dabbed her napkin across her forehead distractedly.
“You don’t?” Brad’s eyebrows jumped toward his hairline.
“I mean...” Brittany scrunched her nose and said, “I would really prefer the salmon.”
Suddenly, Brad, who remained in his uniform, leaped to his feet and hustled after the server. He tapped her on the shoulder and, in simple and confident tones, asked that they change Brittany’s order from steak to salmon. The server corrected the order and then breezed back into the kitchen as Brad returned to his table. His cheeks were red with a mix of embarrassment and pride.
Perhaps this was just the kind of man he was. Completely selfless. Willing to go out of his way to correct a dinner order at a restaurant.
What a contrast to Conner Radley.
Dinner continued on without many hiccups. Brittany felt slowly at ease with Evan Snow beside her, even though all of his stories made her roll her eyes into the back of her head. Brad caught her eye during one particularly long story, and Brittany nearly burst into giggles. It was like Brad could read her mind.
As Brittany finished up her second glass of wine, friends of Heather and Nicole spontaneously entered the restaurant and occupied that half of the table with bubbling conversation. Brad received a phone call that took him to the neighboring hallway. This left Brittany and Evan in a sort of empty bubble.
And, armed with a healthy dose of alcohol, Brittany turned to Evan, looked him directly in the eye, and asked:
“So. Have you seen or heard anything from Conner these days?”
The corners of Evan Snow’s smile fell toward the ground. The normally whip-smart and savvy businessman seemed to stumble at the question. He took another sip of his vodka cocktail, cleared his throat, and replied, “I guess I’m just about the same as everyone else. Haven’t seen him at all since you asked for a divorce.”
“And you have no idea where he might be?”
“No, I don’t,” Evan told her.
What was that flicker behind his eyes? Brittany leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Evan turned his eyes toward the far end of the restaurant, staring.
“If you’ll excuse me. I just remembered I need to have a chat with the chef.”
“I’m sure you do,” Brittany returned, watching as he stood, corrected his suit over his shoulders, and breezed back toward the silver kitchen door.
As he walked, Nicole and Heather burst into laughter about something their newly-arrived friends had said. The laughter was a strange soundtrack to the chaos of Brittany’s thoughts. She felt at a great distance from all of them.
Suddenly, Brad arrived back at the table, sliding his phone into his back pocket. His smile was endearing, the only bright light Brittany currently knew.
“Hey, I think I’m going to head out soon,” Brittany said to him spontaneously. “Is there any way you could drive me home?”