Free The Bright Silver Star by David Handler

up toward the skylights. A lot of them were lined up at the deli counter. Mitch took his place at the end of the line, watching Donna merrily take phone orders, chat up customers, and move the line along with a smooth assist from Rich Graybill, theyoung chef they’d brought in to help manage the place. Will was busy horsing a huge basket of baguettes over from the bakery. All three of them were moving at an astonishing speed. It takes superhuman energy to work in the food trade, Will once told Mitch. Mitch believed it.
    As he got closer to the counter, Mitch carefully studied the enticing platters and bowls on display in the refrigerated case, his stomach growling.
    Now Donna was serving the young woman in line ahead of him. “What can I get you, Marilyn? God, I love your hair. Who did it? I’ve got to go see her. Mine looks just like a Brillo pad. . . . Shut up, it does so.”
    Mitch liked Donna a lot. She was peppery and funny, and she held nothing back. Always, her pink face was lit with a warm, genuine smile. She liked being who she was. Donna was a bit on the short side, nearly a foot shorter than Will, and more than a bit on the chubby side. And her hair did look like a Brillo pad, frizzy and black with streaks of premature gray. She wore a blue denim apron with The Works stitched across it, as did everyone who served food there.
    “Hey there, stretch, what can I get for you today?” she asked, squinting at Mitch through her wire-rimmed glasses with feigned astonishment. “Time out, Berger, is that
you
? My God, you’re nothing but skin, bone, and wrinkled khaki.” Donna had a pronounced Boston accent, the flat, Southie kind. “How much weight have you lost this summer, fifteen pounds?”
    “Ten pounds. . . well, nine.”
    “That’s a lot, Mitch,” Will said, unloading his basket of baguettes.
    “Not enough to satisfy a certain resident trooper.”
    “Oh, what does that scrawny gazelle know about poundage?” Donna shot back. “Me, I like a full-bodied man. A man whose ass is bigger than mine. That’s all any woman wants.”
    “So that’s it,” Will joked. “I always wondered.”
    “Okay, I’m getting mixed signals here,” Mitch told her. “You and Des have to get on the same page.”
    “Not a chance. She’s the one who sees you naked. I just sell you food. Not that I wouldn’t like to trade places.”
    “Donna, are you making a play for me in front of your husband?”
    “It’s okay, Mitch, I’m used to it,” Will said, smiling at her.
    Mitch studied their playful banter closely, wondering if Will
was
cheating on her with Martine. He had no idea. None.
    Donna said, “If you’re
not
going to whisk me away to Bermuda on your yacht then you’ll have to place an order. This is a business, Berger. I can’t just stand here all afternoon talking dirty.”
    Mitch went for the grilled shrimp Caesar salad, an onion minibaguette and a fresh-squeezed orange juice. He placed it all on a tray and ambled over toward an empty table, pleased to see that people at three different tables were intently reading his review of
Dark Star
in that morning’s paper. Mitch enjoyed watching people read his work. He was not alone in this—it was just about every journalist’s guiltiest pleasure. He sat and opened his book, keeping an eye on the big glass doors to the street.
    Des came striding through them a few minutes later and made her way lithely across the bustling food hall, a supremely relaxed smile on her face as her eyes alertly took in everyone and everything in the place. She was becoming an exceptionally good resident trooper, Mitch felt. She was confident, helpful, and straight with everyone. People in town genuinely respected her. Plus there was a refreshing absence of head games with Des. She didn’t try to bully or intimidate anyone. She didn’t need to. Whatever came along, she knew she could handle it.
    Mitch loved the way her face lit up when she caught sight of him seated there. Loved the