“And you’ll want at least five glasses of water with that.” Devon made a note on his pad.
Bess looked worried. “Is it that spicy?”
Devon nodded. “And then some. The name means Land of Fire.”
“Maybe I’ll have what Marisa’s having,” Bess decided. “That would be—”
Devon waved his hand. “I already wrote it down. Tortilla soup, quesadilla, flan. Right?”
“Right,” Nancy said. “And that’s what I want, too.”
“Me, too.” George closed her menu. “That was easy, wasn’t it?”
“I’ll say.” Devon took their menus. “I’ll be right back with your soups.”
A few minutes later, everyone was enjoying the tangy tomato, chicken broth, and tortilla mixture that Devon had set before them.
“It’s hard to hold Casey’s leash and eat at the same time,” Bess said.
“You can try looping the end around your chair leg,” Marisa suggested.
“Good idea.” Bess stood and lifted her chair. The door to the kitchen opened, and Devon exited with two trays of Tierra del Fuego burgers, hot sauce, and several glasses of water.
Casey wagged her tail and ran to greet Devon. Before Bess could stop her, the leash was tangled around Devon’s feet.
“Whoa!” Devon shouted. He tried frantically to balance the slipping trays, but he could not. Glass shattered, and burgers and water rained down on the floor.
The restaurant grew silent. Bess’s face turned as pink as their tablecloth. “I am so sorry.” She scooped Casey into her lap and checked her paws for cuts.
Devon looked at the mess around him, then burst out laughing. “Well, I’ve never done that before.”
“Is everyone all right?” Marisa asked.
Once he was certain no one had been hurt, Devon hurried into the kitchen for a broom, dustpan, and mop.
“Let me help you,” Bess said when Devon returned.
Devon smiled. “That’s okay. I think you have your hands full watching Casey.”
Eric and his friends also came over and offered to help.
“Thanks, guys, but I’ve got it under control,” Devon said. A waitress and a busboy came from the kitchen, each holding a broom. “Great. Reinforcements.”
Amber passed by the table on her way to the ladies’ room. She shook her finger at Casey. “Is this any way to behave in a restaurant?” She giggled. “When does she start obedience school, Bess?”
“Not soon enough,” Bess said.
Mr. Marshall hurried after Amber. He took her by the shoulder and gently guided her away from the area that still had shards of glass on the floor. “Careful, Amber. Walk this way. You don’t want to cut yourself.” Amber followed her father on a roundabout route toward the rest rooms.
In less than five minutes the area was sparkling and fresh Tierra del Fuego burgers were sizzling on the grill.
George elbowed Bess. “What did your puppy book say about situations like this one?”
Bess frowned. “Nothing. Thank goodness Devon was so understanding.”
“I told you he’s a great waiter,” Marisa said. “He’s had customers scream at him, return their dinners several times, then refuse to pay him. Trust me, this was not a big deal.”
“That’s right,” Devon said as he brought everyone’s entrees. “So don’t give it another thought . . . until it’s time to calculate the tip, that is,” he added with a grin.
George took a forkful of her Spanish rice. “This is delicious.”
“Oops.” Marisa set down her water.
“What?” Bess asked.
“I had my napkin in my lap, and I must have dropped it on the floor,” Marisa said.
“I don’t think so,” George said, grabbing Casey by her collar. Marisa’s pink napkin was clenched tightly in the puppy’s teeth. Casey broke free and ran over to Nancy, who held her still while George and Bess extracted the napkin from the puppy’s mouth. Marisa held Casey’s leash while they all trooped to the bathroom to wash their hands.
“I hope our food’s not cold,” Bess said when they returned.
“Me, too,” Nancy said. “I haven’t even tasted it yet.”
Marisa picked up her fork and carefully rested it on her food. “Rice,” she murmured. “I can tell food by touch.”
Nancy watched with interest as Marisa moved her fork clockwise. “And this must be the refried beans.” She frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Bess asked.
