“Right, sorry.” I was still seething, so I took a deep breath and started again. “Do you offer life insurance?”
“We do. Would you like to speak to an agent?”
I needed to make sure the agent I spoke with was of medium height and build, with dark hair and a penchant for child abduction. “Well, a friend recommended I speak to Mr. Foster? Does he work here?”
She quirked a humorous brow. “He owns the agency, so, yes. But he’s not in at the moment.”
“Oh, darn.”
“Would you care to see another agent?”
Before she’d finished, I noticed a man who fit Mr. Foster’s description walking across the parking lot to a coffee shop next door.
“No, thanks. I’ll just come back.”
“I can have him call you.” She grabbed a pen. “What’s your name?”
“Um, Cordelia Chase.”
I tensed the moment I said it, wondering if this receptionist was as savvy as the last one. She wrote it on a message pad while simultaneously nursing her coffee, and I tried not to drool. I’d only had the one cup that morning, and in my fury-driven haste, I hadn’t thought to pick up a mocha grande with extra whipped cream on the way.
I thought about asking her for a quick sip when she asked for my number.
“You know what? I’ll just come back. Thanks, though.” I hurried out and wandered as nonchalantly as I could in the direction of the coffee shop, praying the receptionist didn’t notice me stalking her boss.
I spotted Mr. F the moment I walked inside the retro diner and sat in a booth across from him.
A menu landed in front of me, and an older lady with hair teased just enough to hold the three pens sticking out of it asked, “Would you like some coffee, hon?”
“Would I?”
She offered me a knowing grin and, carafe already in hand, poured me a cup. I fought back the moan that threatened to erupt from the back of my throat when the rich scent hit me and graced her with my most appreciative smile. It wasn’t until she winked and spun away that I realized Mr. Foster had taken note of my presence.
Keeping my gaze averted, I let him take me in a solid minute before looking back at him. When our gazes locked, he schooled his expression, shaped it into one of cordial congeniality, and nodded a greeting. Then he went back to his paper, unfolding it and refolding it at a different section. But underneath, he was more shocked to see me than Mrs. Foster had been the day before.
So, once again, he either knew who I was or he could see what I was. But his surprise went deeper. Mrs. Foster had been taken aback, but he was downright astounded. Mrs. Foster must have told him about me. The last thing he was expecting was for me to show up out of the blue.
I decided to push my luck just a little further. “I’m sorry, are you Mr. Foster?”
He looked up, a shock wave punching him in the gut. “Have we met?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
I grinned and pointed to the billboard outside his office. The one with his picture on it.
He had the wherewithal to look sheepish. “Of course.”
“I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just at your office and your receptionist said you weren’t in, so I decided to get some coffee and wait.”
He was staring. He caught himself and put the paper aside. “And you are?”
“Cordelia Chase. I was going to talk to you about insurance, but I can wait.”
“No, please.” He gestured toward the seat across from his. “Join me.”
I grabbed my bag and my cup and did just that.
“You need insurance?”
“Yes. Life insurance. For my husband. He’s dying.”
“Oh.” He didn’t believe me. Not for a hot minute. But he was playing along so I went with it. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. He doesn’t know it, yet, but I have a strong suspicion he doesn’t have long to live.”
Mr. Foster cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “Can I ask who your health insurance is with?”
“That’s a good question.” I crinkled my nose in thought. Cookie handled all that stuff. “I don’t know what the name is, but it has a red logo? With, maybe, a triangle? Or a square? Yes, that’s it. It’s definitely a square. Or possibly a circle.”
“It doesn’t matter, Ms. Chase.”
“Oh, Cordy, please.”
“Cordy, if I can get some basic information from you, we can go from there. See what we can come up with and get you some quotes. How does that sound?”
I nodded. “Perfect.”
Sadly, I didn’t get a read off him when I said my name, so I still had no clue if he knew who I was or not.
He pulled a memo pad and pen from an inside pocket just as Angel popped into the diner.
“I quit,” he said, bending down so that his face was inches from mine. I had to concentrate not to look at him. “I’m only thirteen. There are some things I just shouldn’t see. Ay, dios mio.” He turned, his agitation evident in his sharp movements. He scrubbed his head.