“You want me to get Peaches?”
Then a laugh. The laugh. The laugh Tony had carriedwith him like a talisman through the worst times.
“No, honey, I don’t think I need Peaches. But why don’tyou wait here, okay?”
The rustling of a dress. A sudden gasp. “Oh, no,” the girlsaid. “Mom, I think he heard us.”
“Yes, Jess, I think he did. Now how ’bout you let me go so I can go find out what he really wants here, since it obviously can’t be tea?”
“Oh, my Go-o-o-d...”
Jess’s voice trailed off, a muffled wail of humiliation thatmade Tony smile all over again. Boy, did he know that particular tone of voice. Usually he heard it preceded by “Oh,Daddy...”
He climbed to his feet to meet her. He didn’t allow himself to notice the fact that his knees felt weak. He didn’tknow what he was going to say or do or ask. He just knewhe had to be here.
And then, when he saw her, everything changed again.
She had eyes to go with that voice. Smiling blue eyes,softened and tempered by the years, punctuated by the samekind of crow’s-feet he saw in his own mirror. Red hair. No, more strawberry blond, with the late-afternoon sun settingit on fire. Full, curly in that way that probably tightened upin the rain and made a man itch to lose himself in its depths.Tony had darker hair, brown. He had a lot more salt thanpepper in it these days, especially his mustache, but her hairwas a pure color that hadn’t been enhanced or restored. Itframed a face devoid of age. An oval face of milky skin andblond freckles. Generous mouth and the kind of willowyfigure that begged for those flowery, flowing dresses thatwere uniform at teas. She wore one now, and it shifted andflowed around her calves in pastel waves.
Tony saw her, put a face to the memories and found himself speechless.
“Hi,” she greeted him, that humor still deepening hervoice, her smile inciting twin dimples. “My daughter saysthat you’ve snuck in the restaurant without warning, obviously with something more nefarious in mind than sustenance. Can I help you?”
She was smiling, and Tony couldn’t speak.
He just stood there, knowing that he had so much to say and knowing he couldn’t possibly manage to say it. Knowing that something else had just happened to him that had nothing to do with what he’d come for, and wishing to hellhe knew what.
Standing there.
She lost a little of that smile. “Jess didn’t mean what she said,” she apologized with a halfhearted wave of her hand.“It’s just that she has a real flair for the dramatic.”
Tony nodded. He rubbed at his chin and thought howvery small she looked for a woman with that much strength.He thought how what he’d come to say suddenly seemed soinadequate.
“I, uh...” He laughed at his own discomfort, but eventhe laugh sounded choked. He shook his head, trying toclear the words. “I’m afraid Jess is right. I didn’t come fortea.”
That just about took the rest of the smile. “Before yousay anything more, you might like to know that my pastrychef is a graduate of Raiford State Penitentiary. With a degree in manslaughter.”
Tony laughed again, and this time managed to get it outwithout sounding as if his engine were backfiring. “The last thing I want to do is hurt anybody. I, uh, need to talk to youif I could.”
Both her hands went up now. “I’m not buying, whateverit is.”
“No.” He never had trouble communicating. He couldn’tbelieve he was now. And he had the complete attention of the women by the window, not to mention a new waitresswho’d shown up in the doorway, garbed in traditional muslin and starched linen. He hadn’t anticipated this. So he justjumped in. “You’re Claire Henderson?” he asked, neverletting his attention stray from his intended target.
She went still. “You’re not a process server, are you?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not. I promise. Your maiden name wasMaguire?”
Now an eyebrow crooked, and she rested her weight onone hip. “Depends. What does it get me?”
Tony smiled. Lifted a hand. Figured there wasn’t any more smooth way of doing this. “My thanks,” he allowed. “You took care of me at Chu Lai.”
For a minute, he thought he’d made a mistake. Her facefell blank. She went still, as if his very words had frozen herin place. Tony saw the light go out of her eyes and then return more brightly. Her suddenly restless hands took tostraightening her skirt as she looked away.
“Claire?” the woman behind her spoke up.
She whirled on the woman as if she’d just jumped out ofa closet. “Oh, Bea, you’re back.” Her voice soundedbreathless. “Uh, could you watch the place for me? I need to talk to, uh—” She turned back to Tony.
“Tony Riordan.”
