Nate walks us right up to the Pelican Bay Bed and Breakfast, using the ramp to get Emma past all the steps. The hostess meets us at the door and he asks to be seated on the patio.
"Wow, I can't believe they have an opening," I whisper as the blonde-haired hostess leads us to one of the large open patios facing the water. In the past, I've tried to eat here before when my mother was in town, but reservations happen weeks in advance over the summer.
Nate checks his watch. "Not many people coming in for dinner at 9 p.m."
He has a point.
The waitress steps up to our table as soon as the hostess steps away. A few pieces of hair have slipped from her bun and her eyes are droopy.
"Hi, my name is Sammie and I'll be your waitress tonight. The kitchen is closing down and shutting off ovens, but
