Chapter Thirteen
Grace
The tray on my shoulder was heavy with plates as I moved through the busy restaurant that evening. After my mother’s unannounced visit this morning, she was here for dinner with a friend, her presence dragging my thoughts back to Boone and what she could have interrupted.
Reaching the large table of the family I was serving, I unfolded the tray stand with one hand and deftly eased the tray off my shoulder. I moved on autopilot. Waiting tables was the perfect job to have when you were knee-deep in a doctoral dissertation. Or so I thought. I liked it because it paid the bills and didn’t require much thought.
“Okay,” I began, “I’ve got the steak right here.” Holding up the plate, my eyes caught that of the mother who lifted her hand. I quickly began setting down the
