"I am now." He said teasingly. "You were saying something about Marion LeBlanc and the play she's starring in. And it would be lovely if I come as your escort. And I was about to tell you that I'm going to be very busy that day."
She pouted, making him laugh.
"I haven't said which day."
"Whichever day it is, I will be busy." He sipped the wine, eyes twinkling.
"Marion LeBlanc is a terrible actress. The only reason she's appearing on Broadway is because of her involvement with the playwright."
"She's a friend of the family." Stretching her legs out, she studied his dear face discreetly. She knew her son well and knew that she wasn't going to get anything out of him, if he didn't want to share.
"She's your friend."
"I don't want to appear alone."
"Then invite the judge."
"I don't want to encourage him."
He sent her a wry look.
"He's already encouraged."
The silk of her lounge pants rustled as she tucked her legs under her.
"How was Paris?" It was a casual question, but he knew better.
"Enchanting as usual." It took all of his skills to pretend that he was not grieving inside. All throughout the journey here, he had been tempted to just turn around, go back to her and demand answers.
"And the young lady?"
His expression turned cool, warning her that he was not willing to divulge anything.
"She's fine." He rose decisively. Finishing the wine, he put the glass away. "I have some catching up to do." Moving towards her chair, he bent from his lofty height and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "There's nothing to tell, so I would appreciate you dropping it. I love you."
She watched him leave, her heart twisting in fear and anger. He was hurting and she was sure it had something to do with that young woman.
Chapter 11
"Bitch, at last." Carrie plopped down in the chair across from her and immediately reached for the menu. "I'm starving. Running around with that bald headed man is getting to be a task. I'm this close." She put her forefinger and thumb together to demonstrate. "This close to telling him to go to hell."
For the first time, she noticed her friend's drawn expression.
"For someone who spent two days in Paris, you sure look as if you're headed for death row. What happened? And why has it taken three days for you to get back to me?"
Waiting until the waitress placed their lattes and sweet potato pies in front of them, Melanie responded. She had been avoiding a conversation with her friend. The one she had with her grandmother was more than enough. And God help her, she was tired to the bone.
"It's over." She said tonelessly, stirring the brew slowly and without interest. She had to be forcing herself to eat. As soon as she went back to work, Jessica had been on her case about trying to find a file that had been needed urgently.
"What?" Her friend paused in the middle of picking up her cup. "Why?"
"He asked me to marry him."
Carrie stared at her wide eyed and put down her cup carefully. "He proposed? When?"
"Our last night in Paris. I turned him down." She picked up her cup and put it back down. "I did more than that, I insulted him, practically laughed in his face."
Pain streaked through her as she recalled the words she had spoken.
