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GRACE WAS counting down the seconds until she could get home. She dreaded the mornings when she had to wake up before dawn to go down to Fergs, which meant that she had to leave Sunny behind more often since moving down to Tampa. Roberta has taken it upon herself to watch Sunny while Grace was out working, and she was grateful to say the least.
The sun was beating against her skin as she was unfortunately given the outside shift. The heat was making her skin glow a shade of crimson and made some loose strands of her hair to curl at the ends. Thankfully their dress code had a big range so she was fortunate enough to pick a fitting tank top and jean shorts for the day. A slight breeze blew against her skin making a happy sigh leave her lips. The restaurant being right next to the lake made the heat more bearable because of the harsh winds at some points.
Sometimes, not so much though. Grace seemed to have jinxed her thoughts when a stray of newspaper cloth on a table blew off and onto the ground, tumbling quickly away. Grace took of towards the newspaper, attempting to catch it before it flew off the pier. Grace finally caught the tablecloth with her feet, about to lean down but the sound of someone speaking made her stop. More specifically the familiarity of the voice.
Her eyes drifted towards the person speaking, and much to her surprise she found Frank Adler sitting at one of the tables with a older woman. The two seemed to be arguing— telling by the way Franks jaw was clenched and voice was hard and had a certain edge to it. A completely different tone to the one she was familiar with. As much as she tried to block out what they were saying, her curiosity got the best of her and she couldn't help but listen into the conversation.
"Your sister had a laundry list of problems," Grace realized that the lady was British making her interest peak even more, "She could have solved Navier-Stokes and go down in history as one of the greatest mathematicians of all time. But she didn't, because she couldn't finish. She was weak. Weak like her father. And weak like...."
Grace watched as Frank let out a deep breathe while looking down at his hands that were on the table, clasped together. Though surprisingly as harsh as those words were, Frank managed to keep his composure as he responded.
"Now, if it's who I think it is— kinda puts a black cloud over our luncheon."
Grace decided that she had enough of eavesdropping and hid her face from him as she grabbed the sheet quickly and walked away to return the newspaper tablecloth to its rightful place. As she was done fixing the tablecloth, she made her way back towards their crew station to find Samantha, another waiter that had the outside shift with her.
"Hey Samantha, have you waited that table over there yet?" Grace asked the brunette as she pointed back towards where Frank and the woman were still conversing...well arguing.
