Dallas sat in the corner booth and scanned the menu. He was originally going to have a soda, ask a few questions, and be on his way. But once the plate of meatballs went by and was served to the table next to his, he knew he had to eat. Now he was wondering how many things he could order without looking like a crazy person.

“Is this your first time in?” a curly haired woman with a bright smile asked as she brought him a glass of water. She was tiny, hardly five feet tall, and her eyes were rimmed with thick eyeliner.

“It is,” Dallas said, still trying to figure out if chicken parm and a couple slices of pizza was too much. “Everything looks great. Any suggestions?”

“Stretchy pants,” she laughed, pulling out an order pad and getting ready to write down his order. “The meatballs are the specialty. My father got the recipe from his grandmother.”

“Your father, he’s the owner here?” Dallas asked, his eyes still on the menu. “Or the chef or something?”

“He was,” she said, enough of a shake in her hand to give her away. A chord had been struck, and Dallas knew he’d have to capitalize on it.

“Not anymore?” Dallas asked, still forcing himself to act only half interested.

“He was killed about a year ago. My mother and I are running the place now. He had three other restaurants but we had to close those. This was his flagship location. We’re doing the best we can with it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dallas said earnestly. “It must be hard to be here every day without him.”

“My mother and I always teased him. Said his job was easy, and he was making too big a deal of everything. Now that we’re trying to keep things afloat, we realize how much he really had to do.” There were tears threatening to fall from her sad eyes.

“My uncle had a sandwich shop in South Boston when I was growing up. I don’t know how he ever managed it. I’d go in during the summer and help out, and I’d be amazed at how much work went into it. I’m sure your dad would be proud. It seems like you’re doing great.”

“Thanks,” she said, choking up. “That’s really nice of you. You know what? I’ll bring you a couple of my dad’s favorite things. You won’t be disappointed.” A big bright smile lit her face as she sauntered away excitedly.

“She’s a sweet girl,” the man who’d just received the large plate of meatballs said. His bristly white mustache bounced up and down as he spoke.

“Seems like it,” Dallas agreed, trying not to look overly anxious to chat. Though he knew this would be his best way to find out more about Angus, no one ever liked someone they thought was prying. “Too bad about her dad. Was it a car accident or something?”

“No,” the man said in a low voice, checking over his shoulder as he spoke. “My name’s Peanut,” he said, extending his hand.

“Peanut?” Dallas asked, unable to hide his amusement.

“Believe it or not, I was a late bloomer. A tiny kid.” He patted his large belly and laughed at the irony.

“My name is Dallas,” he said as they exchanged a firm handshake. “I’ve heard good things about this place, but never tried it. I had no idea about her father.”

“Murdered,” Peanut whispered. “A goddamn tragedy. The man was a saint. Did everything to make sure his wife and daughter were well taken care of and protected.”

“They needed protection?” Dallas asked. “The restaurant business isn’t all that dangerous is it?”

“Not if you’re willing to grease the wheels it’s not. Far as I knew Angus always paid his dues to keep things around here going smooth. There’s no way he’d have taken a risk and not paid. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Dallas said, sipping on his water. “Protection. I know what you mean. I grew up not far from here. I know how that works.”

“They all liked him, which tells me he paid, and probably always on time. But he didn’t have any other enemies. It had to be them. Maybe he pissed one of them off. You never know.” Peanut swirled a forkful of spaghetti up so skillfully it looked as though he’d practiced it every day.

“They arrest anyone?” Dallas asked, thinking about Tim rotting in a prison cell while the real murderer went free all this time.

“Some kid, I don’t know him. Probably some low level member trying to gain some notoriety. It’s a goddamn shame.” Peanut shook his head and did a quick sign of the cross, likely asking forgiveness for using the Lord’s name in vain.

“They give the girls here any trouble?” Dallas asked, wondering if the people putting the screws to Angus were still causing problems. Still a threat.

“Genie would have told me if they were,” Peanut assured him. “Maybe they realized killing her father was enough payment. The guys when I was growing up, it was so different. If I were a younger man, I’ll tell you . . .” Peanut trailed off, loading his mouth with meatballs. “The squeeze they have on these places. It’s a damn crime.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dallas said, shaking his head in disgust. He knew better than to press for a name, it would only raise a red flag. It had to be a crime family in the area, and he’d be able to narrow it down. Larry hadn’t had any direct connections to any of the families, but this could put them on the right track to piece it together.

“You’ll love the meatballs,” Peanut assured him, tapping his glass and smiling as Genie came by and filled it with more wine.

"I’m sure I will,” he agreed, taking another look around the quaintly decorated, cozy restaurant. Maybe he’d bring Harlan here sometime. Sometime when he wasn’t commissioned to protect her. Some night when she wasn’t worried about Rylie. Some night when everything was easy.

“You married?” Peanut asked, grabbing a piece of bread and mopping up some of the sauce from his plate.

“No,” Dallas answered with a laugh. “I don’t do love. It’s a nice concept but it’s not for me.”

“Oh please,” Peanut scoffed. “Love is for everyone. Don’t be stupid. It’s the reason for waking up in the morning.”

“Love is essentially a weakness,” Dallas explained. “It’s creating a vulnerability where you didn’t have one. In my line of work anything that makes you susceptible to more danger is a liability I can’t afford. The second you start loving someone, valuing them more than yourself, is the moment you can’t make objective choices. You can’t see clear enough to do what needs to be done.”

“Love is a weakness,” Peanut laughed, using his napkin to wipe his mustache clean. “Genie are you hearing this? Love is a weakness, this guy says.”

Genie laughed too as she brought him his first plate. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” she teased.

“I’m just saying that love removes clarity. We’re this wonderfully evolved species, yet we let a feeling run our lives. Situations are what they are. They are logical. They are fact. Then all the sudden you love someone, and there’s a variable that can’t be factored in. This strange abstract dynamic that can’t be summed up or accounted for, now becomes your entire life? I just don’t buy into that.”

“You’re depressing me,” Genie groaned, handing him some extra napkins. “Love doesn’t make you weak; it gives you more reasons to be strong. More purpose. More resolve. Love doesn’t keep you from seeing clearly; it lets you see what you never even knew was there.”

“That was beautiful, Genie,” Peanut said, grabbing her hand and kissing it affectionately. “This guy here doesn’t seem half bad. Maybe you take her out on a date?”

“I don’t deserve her,” Dallas chuckled.

“And I’m engaged,” Genie said, swatting at Peanut and showing a tiny, almost invisible diamond.

“Oh yeah, yeah. That’s right. Bill. He’s a mailman. Irish. As exciting as two dead dogs fighting.”

“He’s the one,” Genie announced, rolling her eyes. “We all find the right one. You will too, I’m sure.” She pointed at Dallas and smiled.

“Maybe.” Dallas shrugged, laying his napkin across his lap and getting ready to dig in. His phone chirped, and he instantly thought of Harlan. Would it be a funny text, a silly picture of her and the girls baking, or more like burning, some cookies.

Lilly: Your friend stayed the night but left in a hurry this morning. He’s not planning on coming back. Sorry.

Dallas tucked his phone away as more plates came down in front of him. Genie had created a practical buffet and while he couldn’t bring back her father, he could pay some homage by eating his recipes.

“Even if you don’t believe in love,” Genie teased, “you’ll have a deep and ardent affection for that calamari.”

“I have no doubt,” Dallas said, scooping a heaping pile onto his plate. “If I ever do decide love’s not so bad, I’ll bring her here so you can tell me I told you so.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Genie warned. “I could change the menu.”

After taking a taste of each dish, Dallas shook his head. “Don’t change a damn thing.”