Chapter 7
Then he reached into his jacket and set something on the counter between them — her name tag, the one she’d left in her manager’s hand three nights ago.
Eleanor stared at it.
“Where did you get this?”
“I bought the restaurant this afternoon.”
“You what?”
“Your old manager works for me now, in the sense that he doesn’t work anywhere, ever again, in this city.” Gabriel’s voice stayed even, almost gentle, which somehow made it more absolute. “The restaurant stays open. Everyone who treated you with decency keeps their job. Everyone who didn’t will be finding new careers by Friday.”
“Gabriel, I didn’t ask you to buy a restaurant.”
“You didn’t ask me to go to the meeting either.” He met her eyes, steady. “I’m not doing this instead of letting you be angry. I’m doing it so you have somewhere to be angry from that doesn’t belong to the people who hurt you.”
Eleanor turned the name tag over once in her hand, the metal still cool from his pocket.
May you like
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Whatever you want. Burn it. Frame it. Pin it back on and walk through those doors like you own them.” A faint, almost shy smile crossed his face, rare enough that it always caught her off guard. “You do, as it happens.”
