A Dash of Romance

“You bet it is.” Marta’s face went red like the top of a cartoon thermometer. “And I don’t want you getting in the middle of my affairs.”

“I wasn’t flirting with him.”

“That’s what it looked like to me.”

“We were just talking.”

“I don’t pay you to talk, I pay you to cook, serve and clean. That’s all. Got it? I don’t want to catch you doing this again.”

“What did you want me to do? Ignore him when he spoke to me?” Rose frowned. “What do you mean again?”

“I mean, as you well know, that over these past few months you have gotten bolder and bolder about speaking to our clients. And I don’t like it. Every time we do a partly lately, it seems as if you’re spending more time chattering with the guests than you are working.”

“That is absolutely not true,” Rose returned hotly. “I have never shirked my duties. As a matter of fact, I defy you to tell me even one time when I didn’t do at least fifty percent more than my job description called for.” She began untying her Serragno Catering apron. “See? You can’t. Because it hasn’t happened.” She pulled the apron off and folded it. “Look, this isn’t working for me and you’ve made it really obvious it’s not working for you, either, so let’s just call it a day, okay? Tonya, Keith and the rest of the gang can clean up without me.” She put the apron down on the counter. She was so angry her hands were shaking, but she hoped to God that Marta hadn’t noticed that.

Marta glanced out the door and then back at Rose. Like melting wax, her facial features relaxed. “Oh, Rose. I’m so sorry. Can you possibly forgive me?”

Rose was taken aback. “What?”

“This has just been so stressful for me.” She drew in a shuddering breath and dabbed at her dry eyes. “I just…I’ve been awful. I know it. I can’t blame you for quitting.” She gave a humble smile. “I’d do the same thing in your place.”

“You would.” Something wasn’t right here.

Marta nodded. “But the thing is, this is a very important party for me. The mayor is out there! He could bring so much business our way. Would you consider staying on at least for the rest of the night?”

“I don’t know, Marta…”

“I’ll double your pay. Honestly. I’ll pay you now. Hand me my purse.” She gestured toward a garishly shiny leather purse on a wingback chair in the other room.

“That’s not necessary,” Rose said, with a sigh. She took the apron off the counter and tied it back on. “I’ll finish the night as we agreed. But after that, you’re going to have to accept my resignation.”

“If you insist.” Marta sniffed, then crumpled into a heap on the gleaming tile floor. “Oh, I’m such a mess!” she said in a harsh whisper. “How can I face everyone out there?”

Rose felt completely helpless. What was she supposed to do? “Marta, come on. You’ll be fine.”

“Could you…could you do one teensy-weensy thing for me?”

Trepidation pounded in Rose’s breast. “What’s that?”

“Would you get my pill bottle from my purse? The brown one with the yellow lid?”

Rose hesitated for a moment before sighing and saying, “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

She went to the purse and lifted it. It was heavier than she expected, and one of the first things she touched was a soft clean handkerchief. That was weird. Something didn’t compute, but it wasn’t until she heard the gasp several feet away that the pieces began to fall into place.

“What are you doing with my purse?”

Rose looked up to see Mrs. Winchester—the mayor’s mother—standing with one hand over her mouth and the other pointing at her like a gun.

The noise of the party died down to silence. All eyes turned on Rose.

Suddenly everything moved in slow motion. She turned to see Marta, apparently recovered from her nervous collapse, standing with one hand on her hip and a smug look on her face.

“What’s going on?” Warren Harker appeared at the front of the crowd, looking from Mrs. Winchester to Rose. “What’s wrong?”

“That—that girl was stealing from me!”

“What?” Warren asked sharply, giving Rose a look that could have cut glass.

“Oh, no, no, I wasn’t,” Rose stammered. “I was just—”

“Put the purse down,” Warren said in a cold voice.

Until that moment, she hadn’t even realized she was still holding it. She dropped it, as if it were a dead thing, and said, “Marta just asked me to get something from her purse and said it was this one.” She turned to Marta. “Please. Tell them.”

“I cannot believe my eyes,” Marta said.

Rose couldn’t believe her ears. “What?”

When Marta spoke again, Rose knew she’d been set up. “Mr. Harker, I don’t know how to apologize enough for this. I don’t know what Rose was thinking.”

“I was thinking it was your purse, just like you told me,” Rose said sharply.

Marta shook her head and clicked her tongue against her teeth. “That’s enough, Rose. You’ve been caught.”

It was clear that there was no point in trying to get Marta to tell the truth since she’d gone to considerable trouble to set up the lie.

Instead, Rose turned back to Warren Harker. “Honestly, this is all just a big mistake.”

Mrs. Winchester whimpered like a wounded puppy. “I can’t believe we’re not even safe from theft in a place like this.” Her son, the mayor, patted her arm and said to Warren, “This is unacceptable.”

“Yes, it is,” Warren agreed, eyes on Rose. “I think you’d better go now.”

“I will,” Rose said, reaching around to untie the apron she had just put back on. “But you have to understand, I was not stealing from Mrs. Winchester. I was just trying to get something for Marta from her purse, and she said—”

“Stop!” Marta barked. “You’re a liar and I wouldn’t blame Mr. Harker for calling the police right now.”

“I think you should,” Mrs. Winchester agreed, nodding quickly. “Send a message.”

Rose’s jaw dropped. “This is a mistake!”

“I think you’d better go,” Warren said quietly. He moved forward and, with a firm grip on her arm, led her to the front door.

She wrenched her arm free. “You don’t need to manhandle me. It’s not like I want to stay.”

He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head and opened the door. Behind him, she could see the condescending expressions on the faces of his guests. A bunch of wealthy people who were more comfortable believing the “help” would steal than in listening to the truth.

For just a moment when she’d met him, Rose thought maybe Warren was different.