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“Yes, thank you. Is everything okay here?”
“Oh yes, sir.” He holds the door open and I walk inside. The lobby is full but not bursting. The reception desk is empty, the concierge going through a list on his tablet. The piano player has finished for the night so it’s pretty quiet in here. I go to head toward the bar, planning to grab a bottle and some glasses to take upstairs with me, but then I hear my name being called and my stomach drops like a fucking rock.
“Theo. Darling. I’ve been waiting for you for an hour. You really should answer your phone.”
I turn, my teeth clenched, because I know without a doubt that my perfect night is ruined.
Because there, looking like she just stepped off the cover of a magazine is my mother.
“Dear God, why are you so wet?” she asks me, her nose wrinkling. “Have you never heard of an umbrella?”
Fuck.
Maybe I should be grateful that Georgia made it out of the lobby without my mother seeing her. Or us together. Not least she would be given the third degree.
But I’m not grateful. I’m annoyed. There’s a woman waiting upstairs for me, and I can’t go to her because my mother has decided it’s a good time to drop into the hotel unannounced.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice clipped.
“Well it’s lovely to see you too.” She tips her head to the side, waiting for an air kiss. “And I met some friends for dinner. I thought we could have a drink here afterward. Which you’d know if you checked your messages,” she says pointedly.
One of the guests stares openly at her. He must be in his eighties, but that doesn’t really matter. My mother is a beautiful woman. She pays her surgeon, her beautician, and her hairdresser a lot of money to make sure of that.
“You’re lucky I came back,” I murmur, glancing at my watch. Georgia will think I’m ghosting her if I don’t hurry. I don’t even know her damn number to text surreptitiously.
“I would have been very annoyed if you didn’t.” She gives me a tight smile. “So a drink then?”
“Yes.” I take a breath, because my mother has never learned to take no for an answer. “Give me a moment, I need to speak to reception,” I say. “Go ahead into the bar. I’ll join you when I’m done.”
Thankfully she does as I ask. I wait until she’s through the double doors before I head over to the concierge.
“I need you to take a note to a guest,” I say to him.
Without even asking for who or why, he hands me a piece of crisp paper and an envelope. I write out a quick note and put it into the envelope, writing her name and room number on the front. “Please get it to her immediately.”
“Of course, sir.” He doesn’t ask any questions.
“Thank you.” I nod and stride back to the bar, taking a deep breath to prepare myself.
My mother’s already sitting at a table, her legs crossed at the ankles, as she tells the waiter in explicit detail how to make her martini. “Oh there you are, Theo. I’ve ordered you a whisky.”
“Thank you.” I nod at the waiter and pull out the chair next to her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get changed? Your shirt is damp.”
“I’m heading home in a moment. I have to start work early in the morning.”
“I do wish you’d be a bit more hands off,” she grumbles. “Like I tell your father, we shouldn’t look like we’re working too hard.”
“I enjoy work.”
“Well maybe you should find other things to enjoy,” she says, with a hopeful smile. “All work and no play makes Theo a very absent son.”
“Unless you’ve got another business-minded son ready to take the helm, I don’t think it will happen.”
The waiter brings over our drinks. I take the whisky and swallow down enough of the glass to get through the next few minutes with my mother. A couple at the bar are laughing softly together. He leans in to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and he trails his finger over her cheekbone.
And now I’m thinking about Georgia. Upstairs in her hotel room, wondering where the hell I am.