She dismissed it with a flip of her last ticket. “Good luck.”
The crowd wasn’t too bad yet. It parted to letJoe and Cal through on their way across the room. Once he realized they were aimed at him, Howson looked surprised. He drained his glass of whiskey and dusted sausage roll crumbs off his fingers.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Do I know you?”
Joe caught his hand when it was offered. It was warmer than he’d expected and stiff. He shook it carefully. “Joe,” he said. “We’ve not met, but I’m trying to getin touch with an old friend of yours.”
“Probably dead, then,” Howson said dryly. “At my age, most of them are. Or retired, which is much the same. The only difference is they complain more.”
“Abigail Bailey?” Joe said. “It was years ago, but she worked with your charity. I have a picture of you at a fund-raiser with her in—”
“Brighton,” Howson interrupted with a chuckle. “I remember that. Abbyhates that photo. She says it gives her more chins than Jabba the Hutt.”
Says, notsaid. Joe’s chest felt hot and tight with the undefined smoke of something he couldn’t accurately describe. It could have been fear or anger, but it felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He swallowed the stickiness in his mouth. Cal put a hand on his back in mute support.
“That’s the one,” Joe said. “I’ve been tryingto get in contact with her, but I’ve had no luck. By any chance, are you still in touch with her?”
Howson started to answer and then turned it into an awkward cough as he cleared his throat. He blinked and scratched the side of his nose.
“Actually, I’d rather not say,” he said. When Joe raised his eyebrows, Howson made a twitchy gesture with his clumsy hands. “A few years ago, Abby had someproblems with a… stalker? I don’t know. It wasn’t romantic but odd. Since then she prefers to keep a low profile.”
Joe frowned. That was a coincidence. It didn’t mean it was related, but… still. Maybe he should have defended Kristen to Edward after all.
“It’s an inheritance,” Cal said. He held his hand out to Howson, ready for an introduction. “My father recently passed, and he knew Mrs. Bailey.He left a few… sentimental… items, but we’ve had no luck trying to track her down.”
“Well,” Howson said. “She’s not been Mrs. Bailey for, God, twenty years. She’s remarried and divorced since then. Um, sorry to hear about your father.”
Cal looked down at the floor and scratched the back of his head. He looked sad and uncomfortable with the fact. “He wasn’t a good guy,” he said. “I guess. Butit seemed important to him that I do this.”
“If we could have a quick word?” Joe cut in smoothly. “Inform her about Cal’s father’s passing and see if she wants any of the things set aside for her? It’s nothing big, a few old gifts.”
Howson looked sympathetic to the implied star-crossed romance, but reluctant. “Honestly, I’m not comfortable with it. Abigail would not appreciate me—”
“Could yougive her my number?” Cal asked. “If she wants to get in contact, she can.”
He held out a square of card with EVADE printed blunt and black across the front. It hung in the air while Howson stammered uncertainly until he finally gave in and took it.
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “If you could excuse me, I do have to work tonight. Again, sorry for your loss.”
He tucked the card into his pocketand ducked away into the crowd. Joe watched him press hands and crane his neck to nod and smile for a few minutes. Then he glanced at Cal. “Follow him?”
“And hope he doesn’t need a piss.”
Joe snorted out a surprised laugh as the down-to-earth comment punctured the knot of tension in his chest. It felt easier without it. He snagged a glass of champagne from a passing tray and followed Howson’sstooped, cashmere-clad shoulders.
It turned out that Howson didn’t need the toilet after all. Joe caught up with him by one of the internal glass walls that looked down through the floors of books. He’d handed Cal’s business card to a well-dressed woman with auburn hair and a pair of Coke-bottle glasses balanced on her nose. There was something of the girl she’d been twenty years ago in her face,but Joe thought he could have walked past her at the bar and never guessed who she was. She looked confused as she turned the white rectangle over in her fingers.
“Sorry,” Joe said as he joined them. “I don’t believe you actually know Cal’s father. That was a trick, I’m afraid. I needed to speak to you.”
Even from inside his own head he could hear Harry in his voice, in the coolly flip apology.He didn’t want that, but at least he understood it. If he wasn’t cold, he wasn’t actually sure what to be. A few minutes ago, he hadn’t been sure what emotion to feel. Now he seemed to have them all at once.
Howson blustered andhmphed in annoyance, but after a moment, Abigail patted him on the arm, reassured him that it was fine, and sent him to find her assistant.
“Dermot has been a very goodfriend to me over the years,” she noted once he’d gone. “I don’t appreciate you making a fool of him.”
“That wasn’t my intent. I needed to speak to you.”
Abigail laced her fingers together in front of her stomach and twitched her eyebrows toward her hairline. “Well, now you have the chance.”
He couldn’t. The words stuck in his throat as fear squeezed it shut. His whole life he’d thought thathe didn’t have emotional attachment to the idea of a mother, but maybe he did… or wanted to. He needed to the next few moments to play out right.
“This is Cal Tate, my….” Joe hesitated as he flipped through the options and tried to pick one. He could feel Cal behind him, unsurprised at Joe’s fumble. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to call Cal something, but what?Boyfriend?Lover? Maybe Cal didn’twant anything that… committed. He settled on, “Date. I’m Joseph Bailey. Your son.”
Surprise softened Abigail’s face, and Joe braced himself for her reaction.
“You look like your father,” she said with a small smile. It faded into a solemn, not-quite-apologetic expression. “But, Joseph, I’m not your mother. I never had a child.”
