“A whole bunch of places. Like German and Indian and Irish. Sometimes I-talian.” He pointed in various directions as he spoke.
“And her favorite?”
His brow puckered as he considered that. “Why do you want to know? And why not ask her yourself?”
“I’m planning to bring her a meal as a surprise.”
Mitch eyed her up and down. “And does Coop want to be gettin’ this surprise?” He tossed his cigarette butt to the concrete and ground it under a dirty boot. “I don’t want Coop getting herself some stalker.”
“A stalker!” Felicity glared at him. “You think I look like a stalker?”
“What? You think just ’cause you’re some rich blonde white chick you can’t horndog after someone who doesn’t want it? ’Sides, Coop’s had some trouble in the past with people hangin’ around her in a way she didn’t like. Sometimes people just don’t have it all connected right upstairs.” He tapped his head. “Coop’s mah friend, and I keep an eye out for her. That includes not assumin’ she wants anyone poundin’ on her door that she doesn’t know’s coming.”
Felicity had to appreciate the man’s loyalty. “I assure you she would like this surprise from me.” She injected every ounce of confidence she had and gave Mitch an imperious look to sell it.
“Tell ya what. I’ll ask Coop tomorrow if there’s anyone she’d want surprisin’ her with dinner, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Fine.” Felicity ground out. “I’ll give you my card. When she says yes, you can text me the details of her dining choices.”
“Text?” He snorted. “How do you reckon I’d be doin’ that without a phone?”
Oh right. Good question.
Which was how, an hour later, Felicity was heading back into work, having bought Mitch a new phone and an ample amount of credit. She’d already received a text from him.
This phone is lit. Got all sortz of shit on it. Mrs B says I can rechage it @ her office. Also she told me to tell u ur all right. - Mitch-man
She smiled at his sign-off name. A tendril of warmth curled in her belly. If the phone helped him get a job, even better. She tried not to notice how good it felt to make someone happy so easily. Even if Felicity didn’t have the first clue as to attaining it herself.
* * *
A text arrived from Mitch at seven thirty the next morning. Felicity was just logging on at work when it landed.
Yo, spoke to Coop. She say she cant think of any one shed want to hav dinnr with
Oh. Well, that hurt.
Then she say but if food just appeard 2day she wuldnt say no to it coz she doing a 16 hr shift coz doc gabe is off sik
Sixteen hours? That was disgraceful. Surely there were other options than making one person work a double shift. She’d have to talk to Mrs. Brooks about— No. It wasn’t her place to meddle.
Her phone pinged again.
Said she mite look favarbly on persn who made it happn
Favorably? A slow smile curled Felicity’s lips. Well now, that sounded promising. She texted him back.
Submit all her favorite restaurants now please, Mitch.
Over the next five minutes, a list of a dozen names tumbled into her phone, some with questionable spelling that required decoding. Felicity set up a spreadsheet, consulted opening times and menus, and examined her options. Sixteen hours was indeed a long shift—what time had Cooper started? That being the case, she should break the period up with more than one arrival of food to ensure Cooper was well-fed.
But which restaurant? Mitch had proved useless at telling her what Cooper’s absolute favorite was, but he did know some of her favorite dishes. In the end, she did what anyone overwhelmed by too much choice and not enough information would do: she chose them all.
Nine of the restaurants offered deliveries, so she staggered those throughout the sixteen hours. The three that did not, she phoned in and paid for orders at set times, then enlisted Mitch to pick up the dishes and bring them into the office. So no matter the time, from ten in the morning today onwards, there would be plenty of food options for the overworked Cooper to choose from.
With that sorted to her satisfaction, Felicity tossed her phone into her drawer and headed into her next round of meetings involving Bowen Press, a small press with seven community newspapers that offered remote regional advertising monopolies.
* * *
