It appears that I’m going to lunch with your mother.
I like to be myself. Misery loves company.
—Anthony Corallo
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMILY
It’s no coincidence that lunch with Mrs. Brandon, or “Maggie,” as I am now to call her, is at Jeffrey’s Restaurant, the same place I’d gone with Shane the first night we met. It’s her way of telling me she knows about Shane and me. Thankfully when we arrive, Susie isn’t working or I’d be utterly cornered. Not that I think I’m going to escape some sort of full-frontal attack before this is over anyway, and of course, the white elephant is Mrs. Brandon’s offer to pay me for information.
We settle at a table near the front of the restaurant, and Maggie doesn’t bother to look at the menu. “The brown butter ravioli is to die for,” she says. “I highly recommend it.”
She might just love the ravioli, but I suspect she’s baiting me, and I don’t let her. “I’ve had it before,” I say. “And I agree. It’s fabulous.”
“You’ve been here before. I had no idea. You didn’t mention it when I made the suggestion.”
Again with the baiting. “It was one of the first places recommended to me when I moved into town six weeks ago.”
“That’s right. You just moved here.”
“I did, and not only do I love living close to my job, the food and shopping in this area are amazing.”
She opens her mouth to ask a question I’m sure I won’t want to answer, when our waitress, a pretty and young brunette, appears in front of us, and saves me, at least for the moment. “Welcome, Mrs. Brandon,” she says, giving me a smile as well. “So nice to have you both in today.”
My phone buzzes in my purse with yet another text I am certain is from Shane. I have yet to answer at least three others for fear of being obvious.
“Hello Lori,” Maggie greets the waitress, then indicates me. “This is Emily.” I wave and Maggie immediately says, “We’re going to have the ravioli.” She glances at me. “Wine?”
I hold up a hand. “Oh no. Thanks, but I’ll fall asleep at my desk if I do that.” I look at Lori. “Water, please.” I grab my purse. “And on that note, I had better run to the ladies’ room.” I stand, running my hand down my simple navy blue dress, which is thankfully wrinkle free, since nothing else is right now.
Maggie’s eyes hone in on me, amusement in their depths. “I guess you know where it is.”
“I know where every bathroom in a place I’ve visited is, I promise you,” I confirm, managing to sound amused despite my fear she’s just made a masked reference to Shane and I kissing in the back hallway. “Everything I drink goes right through me.”
“I’m the same way,” she assures me. “Hurry back. My turn is coming.”
More like hurry away, I think, rushing through the restaurant and down the hallway where Shane and I had first kissed, telling myself there is no way anyone, most especially Maggie, knows about that. We were alone. I enter the one-person bathroom and lock the door, opening my purse to grab my one remaining phone, having trashed the other one, as Kevin demanded, on the walk to work this morning.
Leaning on the wall, I punch in Shane’s number. “Why haven’t you been answering me?” he demands after one ring, foregoing “hello.”
“I’m with your mother and didn’t want to seem rude. I came to the bathroom to call you.”
“Where are you?” It’s not a question but a demand. “I’m coming to you.”
“What? No. You can’t do that.”
“I can and I am,” he replies. “Where are you, Emily?”
“If you come to me, it will seem like you care about me and no one will believe you’re using me.”
“I do care about you and I’m not letting my mother fuck with you.”
My heart softens. “I care about you too, Shane, which is why you have to trust me to handle this.”
“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s my mother.”
That statement makes me sad for him in too many ways. “I’ve got this, Shane. I promise. I have to get back to the table. I’ll text you when I return to the office.”
“She’s going to try to mess with your head.”
“I’m fully aware of your mother’s intentions. And if you don’t think I can manage her, and your father, why did we decide I’m staying?”
Silence stretches for several beats before I hear, “Do not let her turn you against me.”
It hits me then that everyone close to him has turned against him. “She can’t turn me against you. No one can. I promise.” I just hope the same will be true in the reverse if he ever learns what I’ve been hiding.
“Text me when you’re back,” he orders.
“I will,” I promise.
The line goes dead, and I stuff my phone back in my purse, and quickly step to the mirror, brushing my windblown hair back into place, and exit the bathroom. I dread my return to the table, but nevertheless hurry forward and rejoin Maggie. “My hair was a mess from all that wind on our walk over here,” I say as I sit down.
“You look stunning as always.” She settles her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her hand. “Tell me about yourself, Emily.”
And just like that I am trapped, forced to tell her lies that will not match the truth I’ve told Shane, leaving me with no option but to dodge and weave. “I’m just a girl, learning her way around Denver.”