Claudia arrived at quarter after seven, full of profuse apologies. She had indeed come straight from work, where one of her meetings had run late. I silently praised my own wisdom in choosing a job that would let me set my own hours. I didn’t make the kind of money Claudia Brewster did, but at least I had as much free time as I wanted. Or I used to, before I became the demon king’s human host.
“So, what’s the occasion?” I asked Claudia once we were seated and our drink orders were placed. I didn’t know her well enough to be sure, but she seemed a bit nervous. That didn’t do my own nerves much good.
She smiled at me a bit sadly. “I really appreciate you looking into Tommy’s case for me. I wish you’d let me pay you, but since you won’t, I thought I’d at least buy you a nice dinner. You can order anything you want.”
Well, that answered the question of who was paying. But I didn’t think it answered the question of why she’d called this meeting.
I could have pressed her for more information ASAP. That would be my usual MO. But despite her spiffy gray power suit and her confident corporate facade, I sensed she was brittle underneath. Tact and diplomacy aren’t usually my strong suits, but my instincts were telling me to back off, and I usually listen to my instincts.
Claudia ordered a lobster, probably as an additional signal that it was okay for me to do so as well. She declined the opportunity to go to the tanks and pick her victim. Even if the tanks hadn’t bothered me, I’d never dream of ordering lobster at Bookbinder’s. All around me, well-dressed businesspeople, dating couples, and families wore the embarrassing bibs they put on you when you ordered lobster. None of them seemed the least bit uncomfortable about how silly they looked, but I’d have been self-conscious the whole night. Of course, you didn’t have to wear the bib, but somehow it felt a little like cheating to refuse it.
I managed not to laugh when they put the bib on Claudia. I think the struggle showed on my face, because her eyes twinkled a bit and her lips lifted in a hint of a smile.
“I haven’t been here in years,” I said, feeling the need to make small talk even though I sucked at it. “I think we came here for every special occasion I could name when I was growing up, so I kind of burned out on the place.” I realized that could be taken as a complaint and felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment. I should really keep my mouth shut.
Luckily, Claudia didn’t take offense. She grinned, and it was almost an impish expression—or maybe it just looked impish because the stupid bib was hiding the power suit. “Were you a chocolate cake kid or a strawberry shortcake kid?” she asked me, and I laughed.
Bookbinder’s has the most ginormous desserts I’ve ever seen, and ordering that slice of chocolate cake the size of my head had always been the highlight of eating here when I was a kid. “Chocolate all the way,” I answered. “I was crushed when they stopped serving it.”
“Me, too. Tommy always liked the shortcake, though. And he always managed to eat the whole thing without even being sick afterward.” Her smile wilted a bit at the memory.
I’d never thought of myself as socially awkward. Abrasive, and maybe even bitchy, but not awkward. Claudia was making me reassess myself. It occurred to me that even before my life had gone to hell, I’d spent very little time with female friends. There’d been Valerie, who turned out not to be a friend at all, but most of the other women I’d known when I was younger now had husbands and young children. I’d never exactly fit in with the mainstream crowd, but I’d never felt quite so far on the outside as I did now.
I really had to settle this thing with Adam and Dom. Messing up my sleep schedule was having a negative impact on my mood. In an effort to snap myself out of it, I fished out an oyster cracker from the jar on the table, then scooped out a tiny bit of horseradish from the condiment tray and dabbed it on the cracker. I popped it into my mouth, and the stinging bite of the horseradish cleared my head better than smelling salts.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said when I could talk again, “why did you and your husband adopt Tommy? Given his past, he must have been quite a handful.”
Claudia took a dainty sip of the fancy French wine she’d ordered before answering. “I was in a very bad accident when I was twenty-two,” she said. “The damage was extensive enough that I’ll never be able to have children of my own.” She swirled the wine around her glass, looking kind of lost. I wished I hadn’t asked, but before I could think of a graceful way to change the topic, she continued.
“When my husband and I decided to adopt, we both agreed that we’d take in a child who’d be hard to place instead of going on a waiting list for the perfect baby. We fostered several children before Tommy came into our lives, but when he did. . we knew he was meant to be ours. It sounds corny, I know, but there you have it.” Again the sad smile.
I couldn’t imagine how a child like Tommy, as troubled as he was, had managed to win the Brewsters’ hearts, but despite my big mouth, I knew better than to voice that particular opinion. As usual, though, I apparently wore my opinion on my face.
“He was a very sweet child,” Claudia hastened to assure me. “He didn’t seem to remember anything about. . what happened to him. He was a great student and was popular with the other kids at school. It wasn’t until adolescence that things started to change.”
“Yeah, puberty sucks,” I said, thinking of the changes that had overtaken my brother when he’d gone through puberty. That was when he’d turned into a Spirit Society drone, and I felt like I’d lost my big brother.
Our food arrived, and I thought I was in for a reprieve from the unwise conversation I had started. But after the waiter left, Claudia ignored her steaming lobster and met my eyes over the table.
“The sweet child I once knew is still in there,” she said. “Under all the baggage he carries and all the anger, there’s a decent human being.”
“I believe you,” I lied, then turned my attention to my grilled salmon in hopes she wouldn’t read the lie on my face.
“I don’t suppose I ever mentioned it,” Claudia said, and I hoped that her easy tone meant she hadn’t caught the lie, “but Devon and I also adopted two little girls.” Still ignoring her food, she dug through her purse for her wallet, then showed me a photograph of two children.
I’d guess the older girl was about five, with thin brown hair, and a face I would have called plain if it weren’t for the infectious smile. The smaller girl was probably around three, and would have been adorable in her little froufrou pink dress even if she hadn’t been caught in the middle of a delighted laugh. The older girl stood behind her sister and had bent down to put her arms around her sister’s waist so that their smiling faces were on the same level.
“They’re lovely,” I said, because what else were you supposed to say to someone who shows you pictures of their kids?
“Yes, I think so, too.” There was something strangely sad in her voice as she tucked the wallet back into her purse. I wondered if I should ask about the girls’ backgrounds. They were probably hard-luck kids like Tommy. But Claudia was finally turning her attention to her lobster, and I decided I’d rather eat than talk.
After the awkward and uncomfortable beginning, Claudia did us both a favor and took over the small talk reins for the remainder of the meal. The conversation wasn’t what I’d call stimulating, but it got us both through the meal without too many of those uncomfortable silences. My dinner was delicious, and Claudia and I shared a piece of strawberry shortcake afterward. In my opinion, it wasn’t as good as the chocolate cake they’d mysteriously dropped from the menu, but it was still a decadent treat. We managed to eat about half of it, which considering the size of the piece was an impressive accomplishment.