I started to walk through, averting my eyes, when Laramie cleared his throat again. “Allie, I—”
“I never saw a thing,” I said without turning.
“Thank you,” he said behind me.
I sailed through the archway and stumbled into the room, this time from the other side, so that I was right next to the bar.
“Ah, there you are,” Philip said. “I feared we’d lost you.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I just…got a bit lost.” Fuck, that sounded ridiculous, but it was true.
Shelly coughed and did this little shimmy that dragged his attention away from me. Really, thank God for boobs. I stood next to Colin, who’d been speaking in low tones with Philip. When I got to his side, though, he stopped talking and pulled me close. Rose entered a few minutes later, looking no worse for wear. A few minutes after that, Laramie came in and joined Philip.
A woman in a white shirt and black slacks entered and announced dinner was ready. En masse we stood and migrated over. As I walked by the woman, she looked right past me as if I were invisible. I thought that if things had happened differently, if I’d happened to hear about her job, I could be her coworker. I could be the one calling the fancy people in to a fancy dinner, but it was her and I was the outsider now.
The table was set with white dishes with gold-plated trim. That couldn’t be real gold, could it? Bowls were set upon plates, which sat upon chargers, making me wonder exactly how much food would be served. Little placards assigned the seats, but the high chair made it obvious where Bailey was to sit.
“Oh, thank you,” I said. “I was thinking I’d just hold her, but this is better.”
“It’s no problem,” Rose assured me.
“Do you have a baby?” I asked and then cringed at myself.
“No.” Rose laughed. “We rented that. The caterer had them.”
Oh, a caterer. Well, now I knew why Colin had laughed when I’d told him I’d bring dessert.
I cringed again at the thought of my rustic cobbler dish. I should have made something better. Something more upscale. Fancy desserts raced through my head. The chocolate tart, sure, but other things too. Things with French names that I could barely pronounce but I could make. Too late. Damn.
I set Bailey up in the high chair and sat down at the seat labeled “Allie.”
Soup was brought out, and servers ladled it into our bowls. No one spoke, the only sound the rush of edible liquid. Everyone, even Shelly, watched their bowls, like it was some sort of prayer ritual. That thought surprised me. Maybe it was. Like a moment of silence. Wasn’t that a thing? No, that was for observing dead people. Shit, I didn’t belong here.
When the servers left the room, we all reached for our spoons. The soft clangs of those spoons against the table or against the bowl filled the air, and then quiet slurps of soup.
I took a sip of my own. It was some sort of seafood dish. It tasted kind of like this chowder they served down the street from my old apartment. Damn, that had been some good gumbo. This one was smooth, like one of Bailey’s baby food purees, and had sprigs of green, but it was basically the same. I tried to entice Bailey with the fruit I’d brought her, but she squirmed for the soup. I brought the spoon to her lips.
She took a sip. Then another. Then—pffft—she spit it out.
“Yucky,” she said.
My face burned. I turned to face Rose, an apology on my lips, but she was biting her lips against a smile.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Honestly.”
“I’m sorry,” I said anyway. “I really like it.”
I looked around and noticed Colin looking down and Shelly covering her mouth. Okay, amusement would be had at my expense tonight. I chanced a glance at Philip, but even his expression seemed to have softened under Bailey’s spell.
Until he spoke. “Allie,” he said. “I heard you’re working in Colin’s restaurant.”
I glanced at Colin. I could tell from the way his eyes had clouded over that he’d caught the edge to Philip’s tone, but I wasn’t sure what he thought about it. Colin didn’t meet my eyes.
“Not working there, exactly,” I said. “Just sending over a couple of cakes or pies every few days.”
“I see.” Philip’s tone said he found that doubtful, though I didn’t see why.
“I like to bake, so it’s just a little extra. And you know, or maybe you don’t, but I did that before.” I caught Shelly’s eye as she sipped from her spoon, and that bolstered me some. I took a deep breath.
Philip took a drink and over the rim said, “Mmm-hmm.” He set the glass down with a thud. “I imagine you’re very busy”—he nodded toward Bailey—“taking care of your daughter.”
“Oh, sure,” I said. “We stay busy. I mean, not too busy, but we get along fine, between that, and…the baking.”
Jesus, why couldn’t I shut up? It was like watching a train wreck, but I was on the train.