“Running an orchard is good,” I say, trying to focus. I forgot what I was going to say. My mind keeps wandering, bouncing from one subject to another but landing back on Luke each time. Even out to dinner with another man, I’m thinking about Luke.
Admittedly, this isn’t an actual date. If it were, it would be a terrible date. Hell, I’d be a terrible date.
This is a business dinner. With a man who happens to be charming, and handsome, and rich – exactly the kind of man I should be interested in. Except that he wants my orchard. And even though he's cordial and smiles and asks my thoughts about the mining company buying up land in town, he's really only wining and dining me because I'd spoken out at the town hall meeting against his company. And I'm pretty sure he's a very bad man.
“Do you ever think about packing it all up?” Randall Edwards asks. He’s casual and relaxed as he sits back in his chair, surveying me, sizing me up. But he’s not really relaxed. He’s not casual at all. He’s a shark, a predator, the kind I recognize from my corporate days. “Running an orchard is hard work.”
I bristle at his words. “You mean, hard work for a woman.”
“Not at all,” he says, nonplussed. A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, as if my irritation amuses him. “Running an orchard is hard work for anyone. Of course, you are a single mother with a small child. It’s exponentially harder work for you, I imagine. I’d think you would be pleased with our offer. You have no family here in this town. It's just you and your child. Our offer is fair. I'd even be willing to negotiate.”
He speaks the words with a smile, yet I’m not convinced there’s not a veiled threat behind his words, with his talk of me being a single mother of a small child. But if there is, I’m not about to be intimidated by someone like him.
“Let me ask you something, Mr. Edwards,” I say, leaning forward. “Are you in the habit of wining and dining the people in this town whose properties you’re trying to buy up? Is this standard operating procedure for you?”
Now he does smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it has the effect of making him look cold instead of charming. “Only when the people whose properties I’m trying to buy are as beautiful as you.”
“It’s funny, though, a mining company buying up all these places,” I muse, studying him. "That doesn’t seem like the way it usually works.”
“People have been pleased with the offers we’ve made.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” I say, sipping my wine. “And I’ve also heard you’re not the only game in town, Mr. Edwards. There’s another extraction company here. And that might not make anyone else here curious, but it makes me curious.”
He opens his mouth to speak, and he might even be saying something, but I'm not listening, because behind him, the door opens and Luke walks in.
He's out of place, completely at odds with this restaurant, wearing jeans and a pair of work boots, and when his eyes meet mine, there's a split second where I feel guilty, as if I've been caught cheating.
Except then I remind myself that there's no relationship – there's nothing between us, nothing to cheat on.
I sit there, staring at him as he walks toward our table. "You shouldn't be here," I say when he reaches us, my voice cold, cutting him off before he can speak.
“Evening, Ms. Mayburn,” he says, his tone excessively friendly. “It’s funny, running into you here like this.”
Randall Edwards looks at Luke, then back at me, quietly appraising the situation. “Is this someone you know?”
“It’s someone I used to know,” I say. “Someone who’s probably just leaving.”
“Actually,” Luke says. “I just came in here because I was trying to be neighborly. I think you’re the owner of the red sports car out front, right? I passed some kids out there, juvenile-delinquent looking types, running away from it. Tires are flat. Might want to check it out, call someone about it.”
“Fuck,” Edwards says, standing up and throwing his napkin in the middle of the table. He pauses, looking back and forth between Luke and I, trying to read whatever the relationship is between us. He looks at Luke accusingly. “There are cameras outside this restaurant, just so you know.”
Then he’s gone, and it’s Luke and I. The restaurant is dead quiet, quieter than it was before, no more hushed whispers and romantic talks.
I lean forward, my tone hushed, practically fuming, aware that all eyes are on me. “What the hell did you do?” I ask. “Did you just slash that guy's tires? What, are you some kind of fucking lunatic?”
“I didn’t know you were on a date with one of the bigwigs from the mining company,” Luke says. “That is not a good man.”
“You didn't know I was on a date, or you didn't know I was on a date with him in particular?" I ask, trying to keep my voice quiet. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?"