Chapter Twelve
The restaurant was dark but ornately decorated in bright oranges, yellows, and reds. Mixed with the dark, masculine woods of mahogany, it had a warmth and charm to it. Above Laura’s head, she could hear a guitar playing and what sounded like tap shoes clicking out a quick rhythm with castanets. At least she thought that’s what the sound was. She hadn’t played with a pair since fourth grade music class when it was international month.
“Señoras.” A slender Latino swept his arm wide in welcome.
“Señoritas,” Sofia corrected him, her look of admonishment practically melting the young man.
“Lo siento. I meant no disrespect.”
Sofia ignored the apology and seated herself behind Laura as she scooted into the booth and quickly ordered a few things. She was too hungry to wait and
