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Emily Frankel. All rights reserved.

Ivy – page 5
page 1, page 2, page 3, page 4, page 6

“And you love helping people. Like you helped our new hostess. I like to help people too. ivy_quote5Methinks you’re your boss’s lucky charm.”

When she blushed and shook her head nervously, he laughed—a delightful laugh, his smile resting on his cheeks in comfortable crinkles.

“So this Marvin guy, he’s been in your life for how many years . . . nine? That’s nine years longer than my longest relationship.”

“It’s not a relationship—well, it is a—we’ve worked together for a long time, but Marvin’s married, not happily and he and I—we—”

“Hey, hey now. . .” Finger at his lips, he hushed her. “You don’t have to explain. You’re a grownup, wise lady. There’s reason and grace behind everything you do.”

Before Ivy could ask how he’d come to that conclusion, he placed his hand, a callused workman’s hand, lightly, briefly over hers. “Your smile tells the story. Something happened to the skinny twerp, smartest girl in high school, like something happened to me that made me change where I was heading.” Glancing at the customers who were reaching for their coats, he stood up. “Whoa, I got to go!”

When did he serve her? . . .waffle crumbs on the plate, strawberry stems, empty little cups for butter, for syrup. . .when did she eat?

He put down the folder with the check, his smiling, perceptive grey eyes studying her. “Ever seen One Night of Love? Bet I’ve seen that movie a dozen times. It’s one of my favorites! It made Grace Moore a star!”

“My mother loved Grace Moore. She loved everything that had to do with opera and music.” Reaching for the check, Ivy saw his name in the upper left corner, stiff, bold capital letters, EVAN MICHELIN.

Evan Michelin grinned and called to her over his shoulder as he headed toward his customers, “See you next Sunday Miss Ivy Grace Moore Morley.”

. . .he knows my name, my whole name. . .

“Yes, I’ll be here Sunday!” Ivy sang out the words in her best Grace Moore soprano
as she rose from the table.

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