Page 27 of Storm Warning
He beamed. “Told you. My own creation—and I never share the recipe. If you want another, you come to me.” His wink turned conspiratorial. “It keeps the pretty ladies coming back.”
Kate shook her head, laughing despite herself. He was outrageous. And clearly knew it.
After he took her lunch order, she pulled out her tablet. The familiar weight grounded her, a lifeline in a sea of strangers and an invaluable tool of her trade. Around her, life unfolded—waves of conversation, the clink of glass, the rustle of linen napkins. She began jotting notes:
—An elderly man with a bright red scarf, gazing out at nothing.
—A server moving in a choreographed dance through the tables.
—The scent of citrus and sea salt, curling through the air like an invitation.
Each detail fed her imagination. Even a single moment—a glance, a choice of drink—could spark a scene or full story.
In half a drink and two pages of notes' time, Walter delivered her salad with a flourish.
“Oh, wow,” she said. “This looks amazing.”
The Lomi-Lomi Salmon & Avocado Salad was a rainbow on a plate—rosy chunks of fish, creamy avocado, pops of tomato and cilantro. Sesame seeds dotted the top like stardust.
“Our chefs are incredible,” Walter said, eyes twinkling. “Even the staff cafeteria’s good. Holler if you need anything.”
Kate lifted her fork, its sun-warmed metal smooth in her hand. The crisp lettuce crunched delightfully between her teeth while the tang of lime met the richness of fish and avocado, bright and balanced, the silky texture melting across her tongue. Sunshine and flavor soaked into her bones.
She savored every morsel. The food, the view, the gentle flirtation—all of it soothed her in ways she hadn’t realized she hungered for.
Kate nestled back into the cushions of a comfy sofa, the fabric soft against her bare legs, tablet propped on her knees, a new Peanut Colada delivered by Lisa. Her stylus moved in quiet rhythm as she returned to capturing every detail around her—the hum of conversation, the lively flashes of laughter, the dance of sunlight on glassware. She lost track of time, lettingthe little snapshots of life fill her with a sense of purpose missing for weeks.
This was it—the essence of paradise.
Kate leaned back on the loveseat, soaking up the sunshine and the soft crash of waves—until a sharp voice sliced through the tranquil air like broken glass.
“I told you she has a nut allergy!” a woman shrieked, shoving a half-eaten plate across the table with a clatter. “She’s breaking out in hives!”
Heads swiveled. A little girl nearby sniffled, her cheeks flushed and puffy. The man beside her looked ready to throw punches. “You fed my daughter peanut sauce? Are you trying to kill her?”
Kate sat up, heart stuttering, the peaceful warmth evaporating. The server—Gina—stood frozen, eyes wide with horror. “Sir, I didn’t—I swear I confirmed the allergy when you ordered the spring rolls. They were marked vegan—there’s no peanut sauce on them.”
The father jabbed a finger toward a sauce-streaked plate. “Smell that. It’s definitely peanuts!”
Lisa rushed in, whispering something in Gina’s ear as she signaled Walter, who was already moving, calm but quick.
“Don’t worry, Kate. Walter will handle it.” Lisa whispered to her before taking Walter’s place behind the bar.
The scene shifted from a vacation dream to viral nightmare material. Cell phones appeared; at least two guests were recording, screens glowing.
Walter crouched beside the girl, his voice low but soothing. “We’re going to take care of you, sweetheart. Can you breathe okay?”
The father growled. “She’s breathing now. Doesn’t mean she will be in five minutes.”
Walter rose and addressed the crowd, his calm authoritycutting through the tension. “We take food safety seriously. EMTs have already been dispatched, and I’ll personally review the prep footage.”
Ten minutes later, EMTs guided the girl into an ambulance—stable now with no breathing issues. Walter returned with his tablet, flanked now by two security officers.
“Sir,” Walter said precisely, his tone professional and cold, “we reviewed the kitchen video. The spring rolls were prepared without any nut products. Furthermore,—” he tapped his screen “—this sauce was added after it left the kitchen. We have video from the patio cam of you reaching into your bag and pouring this sauce yourself.”
Gasps rippled across the tables like a shockwave.
“That’s—” the man stammered, skin washing out. “I was trying to?—”