“You got it.”
Tiana returned a few minutes later with the drink on a small tray.
She had already put in a bendy straw.
Not because anyone told her to.
Because she had noticed the cast.
Lila glanced at it, then up at Tiana.
“Extra cold,” Tiana said. “That’s the only proper way to drink strawberry lemonade.”
Lila almost smiled.
Almost.
“Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?”
Lila stared down at the menu.
Her lips pressed together.
Tiana recognized that look.
Too overwhelmed to choose.
Too proud to say so.
“How about this?” Tiana said. “I know the kids’ menu looks boring. But there’s a mac and cheese back there that is not officially on this menu, and it is serious business.”
Lila’s eyes lifted.
“It has three cheeses,” Tiana whispered, like she was sharing a state secret. “And toasted breadcrumbs. And if anyone asks, we never had this conversation.”
A tiny breath came out of Lila.
It was not quite a laugh.
But it was close enough.
“Can I have that?”
“You absolutely can.”
Tiana wrote it down as if it were the most important order in the building.
“Mac and cheese. Strawberry lemonade. Excellent taste.”
As she turned, she noticed a man step through the front door.
Tall.
Dark hair with a little gray at the temples.
Tailored charcoal overcoat.
His face was calm, but his eyes were searching.
The hostess leaned toward him, whispering.
He looked toward table fifteen.
Relief softened his face for half a second.
But he did not go to Lila.
Instead, he asked something quietly.
The hostess nodded and led him to a table two spots away, partly hidden behind a half-wall and a tall plant.
From there, he could see Lila clearly.
But Lila could not easily see him.
Tiana noticed.
Servers notice more than people think.
They notice which husband flinches when the bill comes.
Which woman is smiling too hard.
Which child is trying not to cry.
Which man is watching from two tables away like his whole heart is sitting alone in the corner.
She placed Lila’s order, then ran refills to table seven and bread to table twelve.
Jessica still had not returned.
Darren stood near the bar, talking to two regulars, his smile wide and fake.
When the mac and cheese came up, Tiana carried it herself.
Another server could have done it.
But she wanted to check on Lila.
The bowl was warm, creamy, golden on top.
Lila looked at it like she was hungry but afraid to begin.
Her cast rested awkwardly against the table.
She picked up her fork with her left hand, tried to angle it, then dropped it with a small clatter.
Her cheeks went red.
Tiana pulled out the chair across from her.
“May I sit for just a second?”
Lila shrugged.
Tiana sat.
“Cast making dinner difficult?”
Lila nodded.
Her eyes shone, but she held the tears back with the stubborn pride of a child who had already been watched too much.
Tiana kept her voice easy.
“You know, when one part of your body gets hurt, the rest of you starts learning new tricks. Your brain is very good at backup plans.”
Lila looked up.
“How do you know?”
Tiana hesitated.
Then she smiled.
“I used to study medicine.”
“You were a doctor?”
“Almost. I was studying to become one. For kids, mostly.”
“Why did you stop?”
Tiana’s hand paused for only a moment.
“Life needed me somewhere else.”
Lila seemed to think about that.
Tiana gently picked up the fork.
“Try holding it a little farther back. Like this. Let your wrist rest on the edge of the table so your hand doesn’t have to do all the work.”
She demonstrated first.
Then she guided Lila’s left hand only after the girl nodded.
“There,” Tiana said softly. “See? Your brain is already figuring it out.”
Lila got one small bite.
Then another.
Her shoulders dropped.
“It’s not broken,” she said suddenly, lifting the cast a little. “Just fractured. I fell off my skateboard.”
“That still counts as brave dinner work.”
“It was my fault.”
“Maybe. Or maybe the sidewalk was being rude.”
Lila blinked.
Then she laughed.
A real laugh.
Small, surprised, and bright.
Across the room, the man in the gray coat leaned forward.
Tiana saw it from the corner of her eye.
He heard it too.
Lila looked at her bowl.
“I like to draw,” she said. “But now I have to use my left hand.”
“That is impressive.”
“It looks bad.”
“Most great art starts by looking a little strange.”
Lila studied her.
“You really think that?”
