Bella's POV
"Table six needs two grilled tilapias, extra lemon on the side, no sauce. Table three wants their steak cooked medium rare, and somebody better double-check that salad order because if I get one more complaint about the dressing placement, I'm going to lose my mind."
My phone vibrated against my hip, cutting through my rapid-fire instructions to the kitchen staff. I figured it was probably another overdue notice or maybe the bank reminding me about my nonexistent account balance. But when I pulled the device from my apron and saw Mrs. Martha's contact flashing on the screen, ice water seemed to flood my veins.
She never called during dinner rush. Never.
I forced my voice to stay level. "Keep those orders flowing. I'll be back in a minute."
