He shook his head, a wry smile playing over his lips. “No. It wouldn’t be the same without you and those furballs. I’ll get another place. Sell it or rent it to someone else.”
“Easier to sell,” I mused. “Well, in theory. But I’m not concerned with profit, and it saves the hassle of screening and dealing with—” I stopped as a startling thought suddenly came to me. “Hey. Do we have time for a, oh, fifteen-minute stop? Will your friend get rid of our table?”
“Not if I call. Where do you need to go?”
“The U District. Seth’s place. Don’t worry,” I added, seeing his look of alarm. “I’m not going to do anything crazy or lovestruck. I’m not even going to see Seth. Please? Just a quick stop?”
Roman concurred, though his expression said this was against his better judgment. I almost told him his fears were unfounded because I was only going to actually stop if Margaret was home and Seth wasn’t. The odds against that possibility seemed slim, particularly with the way my luck tended to run.
The universe apparently owed me a favor because when we reached Seth’s condo, I saw her car there but not his. A light inside gave me hope that they hadn’t just all carpooled off together.
“Do you need me to come in?” asked Roman, as he pulled into my parking spot.
“No, but thanks. I’ll be right back.”
I left the car and walked up to the door, hoping some wacky happenstance wouldn’t actually put me face to face with Seth. Not that I wouldn’t have loved to see him. God, I missed him so, so much. But I knew no good could come of an encounter between us. I rang the bell and waited anxiously. A few moments later, Margaret answered.
“Georgina,” she said, clearly surprised. “What are you doing here?” She took in my appearance. “Are you supposed to meet Seth?”
“No . . . can I come in for a minute? I’ll be fast, I promise.” She had on a coat, making me think she’d been about to leave. Either that or she was trying to save Seth money on his heating bills.
She gestured me inside and shut the door. “I was about to go to Terry’s. Seth’s already there.” I didn’t bother asking where Ian was. He probably celebrated New Year’s on January third or something, just to be contrary. “You haven’t been around in a while.”
I wondered what Seth had told his family about us, if he’d even told them anything at all. Maybe he was just going to say nothing until one of them noticed my absence.
“Ah, well,” I said. “Seth and I are having a disagreement.”
She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “You two need to sit down and fix it then.”
How I wished it was that easy. I forced a neutral smile. “We’ll see,” I said. “But the thing is . . . I may be moving. No, I am moving. I have a new job . . . and I was wondering if you’d like to stay in my condo when I leave. I remember you saying you didn’t want to impose on Seth’s space but that you wished you could stick around more to help. Well, now you can. You can have your own place. Mine.”
“I can’t afford to keep my place in Chicago and pay rent somewhere here, though,” she said sadly. “That’s been the problem.”
“You don’t have to pay rent,” I said. “You can stay there for free.”
She eyed me curiously. “How will you afford your mortgage?”
Yes, how indeed would a poor retail-bound girl like me be able to swing that? “The condo’s paid off,” I explained. Let her think it was passed down through the family or something. “And my new job pays well. Look, I really don’t mind you staying. It’d be worth it to me to know that the girls have you close by to help. I mean, they’re going to need a strong woman around, right?”
Margaret took a few moments to answer. “Right. I just thought you’d be that woman.”
“Fate has other plans,” I said. Wasn’t that the damned truth.
“Is that why you and Seth aren’t getting along? Because you’re moving? I’m surprised he doesn’t just go with you. . . .”
“No, no, it’s not that at all,” I assured her. “It’s . . . complicated. If it was as simple as moving, he would when he was able to . . . you know, when Andrea’s better.” I hesitated, afraid of the answer to the next question, but it was one I had to know. With no contact from Seth, the status of the Mortensens had been a mystery. “How is Andrea? Is she still doing well?”
“Yes, she’s doing great. We won’t know the details for sure until she sees the doctor in a couple weeks, but on the outside, things look wonderful. We’re all praying.”
I found myself smiling, unable to help my joy and relief. Andrea had looked good at Christmas, but I’d worried ever since then that whatever demon had made her sick before would return one of these days. Again, a doctor would have the ultimate answer, but I took Margaret’s own observation as a good sign.
“Thank you,” I said. “You have no idea how much that makes my night. I’ve needed some good news.”
“Well, thank you for the housing offer. Can I let you know my answer later?”
“Of course,” I said.
I wished her a happy new year and told her good night. Then, I hurried off before I cracked and asked her to deliver some sentimental message to Seth. I liked Roman’s company, but I still couldn’t shake the wrongness of being out with him instead of Seth tonight. After last year’s miserable New Year’s Eve, I’d hoped this one would be better.
“That was nice of you,” Roman said, when I explained what I discussed with Margaret.
“It’s an easy thing for me to do that can help a lot of people,” I said. “No reason not to.”
He shook his head, incredulous. “You shouldn’t even need a technicality to escape Hell’s reach. They should fire you out of principle.”
The restaurant was tiny but elegant—and packed. I seriously doubted any connections Roman had would get us in, but through some magic, the hostess beckoned us through the crowd and led us back to a cozy candlelit corner. In it was a table covered with an old-fashioned lace cloth, as well as crystal and china place settings—for three.
I looked at her in surprise. “But there’s only—”
“Hey, hope I’m not late.” Carter suddenly emerged from the crowd, wearing his usual grunge wear. The hostess didn’t even blink an eye. Seeing us about to sit down, he smiled. “I guess not.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I looked to Roman, who appeared just as perplexed as I was.
“I didn’t tell him any details. He called while you were inside Seth’s to see if we were going to Peter’s, and I told him we were going to dinner instead. That’s it.”
Carter waved it off. “That’s as good as a homing beacon. I love this place. You’re getting wine, right?”
It wasn’t that I was unhappy to see Carter. It was just that when Carter appeared, there was usually a reason.
“So you heard?” I said, once we’d placed our orders and dispensed with small talk.
Carter swirled the wine in his glass. We’d ordered a nice vintage that would probably be wasted on him at the rate he drank. “That you’re skipping Peter’s party? Yeah, I did. Man, he’s going to be pissed.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I mean. Are you here about the appeal we filed?”
“I’m here to have dinner with friends,” said Carter demurely. “But now that you mention it . . .”
“Word gets around fast, huh?” I asked. It had been a couple hours since we’d seen Hugh, more than enough time for him to deliver the paperwork to Mei and enough for her to have told Jerome.
“Oh, I found out from him,” said Carter, nodding toward Roman.
“He asked when he called me earlier,” explained Roman. “He knew we’d been working on it.”
“How?” I asked, startled.
“Hugh and I have had to consult him on a couple of things this week,” said Roman. “Nothing that breaks any rules, of course.” Carter gave him a mock toast to that. “But enough to clarify a couple points about Hell’s fucked-up legal system.”