“If you’re looking for your mother and her friend,” Big Ed said as he handed me my card, “they’re at the corner table.”
I rose on my tiptoes and raised my chin in an attempt to see around the flouncy hats of a couple of the garden club ladies. All I could see from my vantage point was the top of Mama’s head. I did notice, though, that Mama had finally worn the jeweled barrette I’d given her for Christmas. I’d been a bit chagrined before that she hadn’t worn it yet; now it irritated me that she’d chosen to wear it for the first time on her date with Oscar.
A young man brought a bag out and set it on the counter. Ed gave it a quick once-over and yelled out, “Tom Sawyer!” A man wearing stained painter’s pants under his winter parka stepped up and grabbed his order. I smiled. Clever. Tom Sawyer and the whitewashed fence.
I glanced down at my own card and raised a brow. “Cordelia Gray?” P. D. James’s famous lady detective.
“You are on the case, aren’t you?” Ed winked. “I heard one of your authors has been arrested for Chuck Richards’s murder.”
I sighed. At least he hadn’t written Murder Magnet on my card. “Yes,” I said. “But I don’t believe she did it. Did you know Chuck?”
“Not personally. I knew of him, though. He didn’t have the best reputation in town.” He thumbed toward the seating area. “So, your mother and Oscar Belmonte, huh?”
“What do you mean? They’re just having lunch together.”
He chuckled. “If you say so, Cordelia. She could do worse. He’s an okay guy and a hell of a cook. Course, so is your son.”
I blinked back my surprise.
Big Ed was going on. “Belmonte’s lucky to have him on his team. Did Trey tell ya what I did?”
Suddenly I felt like I was on the outside of my world looking in, watching as my life unfolded. How much had I missed lately? Guilt washed over me as I realized I’d been so wrapped up in my job, consumed with dreams of my wedding . . . that I’d neglected my family. Hadn’t Mama told me more than once that she wanted to talk with me? And each time, I’d put it off until “later.” Then, when I’d heard about Trey’s situation, I’d been angry that Mama hadn’t kept me in the loop . . . but she’d tried. I was the one too busy, too self-absorbed to listen. And what type of daughter was I that I hadn’t noticed there was someone special in my mother’s life? And now it seemed that even Big Ed knew more about my own son than me. I stammered for a response, finally just shaking my head and shrugging.
Big Ed continued, “Tried to lure him away. Offered him more than Belmonte’s paying him, too. Know what he said?”
Again, I shook my head.
“That he appreciated my offer, but that he intended to open his own restaurant one day and needed to learn the complexities of cooking a full menu. That fine dining was where he’d find his niche. His words, not mine. But his enthusiasm was evident. That, combined with his obvious work ethic . . . Well, that kid of yours is going places. You must be so proud.” The guy from the back appeared again. This time carrying a tray with a wrapped sandwich and a soft drink. Ed took the tray and passed it my way. “Here you go, Cordelia. Enjoy.”
“Thanks,” I replied, still a little dazed by what he’d told me about Trey. Yes, I should be proud, and, yes, I should have recognized his fire for cooking. But I hadn’t seen it, or at least I hadn’t recognized the depth of it anyway, and what else had I missed? My thoughts quickly turned back to my current dilemma—Mama and Oscar Belmonte. A man who had spirited my son from college to his workforce. More importantly, a man I’d run up against immediately as I’d backed up from a nail-gunned dead body. A man who then accused me of murder! In reality, how honest and safe was this man? How safe was Mama in the hands of this new “special friend” of hers? I turned to scout a place to sit. Someplace out of the way, but where I could keep an eye on the lovebirds. Suddenly, I noticed Lynn waving to me from a table not too far away. Pam and Dr. Meyers were seated with her.
Pam reached over and pulled out a chair as I approached. “Come sit with us,” she said. “Or were you planning on eating lunch with your mother and her friend?”
I glanced over, wondering if Mama had even noticed I was in the café. She hadn’t. She was too wrapped up in her dining partner, her eyes glued on the man whose face glowed as he spoke with a hand-waving flourish about something or other. I sighed. “I’d love to join you ladies,” I said, settling in and unwrapping my sandwich.