Soline’s brows slid up. “Surely not infamous.”
Camilla’s charm bracelet jangled as she shook out her napkin and laid it in her lap. “I only meant that my daughter has told me so much about you. And your shop. Such a pity about the fire.”
Soline reached for her water glass, clearly rattled by the mention of the fire. “She’s told me about you too,” she said after a brief sip. “In fact, she speaks of you quite often.”
Camilla held Soline’s gaze a moment longer than necessary. “Does she?”
Rory’s stomach roiled as she watched them spar, painfully aware of what was being said—and what wasn’t. She needed to divert the conversation before her mother’s tone escalated from passive-aggressive to just plain aggressive.
She was about to blurt out that she’d settled on the light fixtures for the gallery when their waitress appeared, balancing a tray on her shoulder. She blinked at Camilla, then at Rory. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were expecting a third. Let me just set this down and I’ll grab a menu and some silverware.”
Camilla waved a perfectly manicured hand. “No need. Just bring me a nice chardonnay and a plate of that lovely lobster salad if you still have it. Oh, and the dressing on the side if you don’t mind.” She ran an eye around the table when the waitress was gone, surveying the freshly delivered food. “Doesn’t that look delicious. And you’re sharing. How nice. Please, don’t wait for me. I’m sure my salad won’t take long.”
Rory silently fumed as her mother took a piece of bread from the basket, then reached over to borrow her knife to butter it. She was being punished, she realized, for her disloyalty. As Camilla had punished her husband each time one of his affairs came to light and embarrassed her in front of her friends.
“Aurora tells me you’ve been helping her shop,” Camilla said between bites of bread. “It’s awfully kind of you, though I must say, I was surprised to hear it. My daughter has never been one for fashion. Not that I didn’t try. But she was such a tomboy growing up. Always up a tree or kicking a ball around. I couldn’t keep the child clean.”
“The child is all grown up now,” Rory muttered. “And sitting right next to you, in case you forgot.”
Camilla didn’t miss a beat, addressing Soline as if Rory hadn’t spoken. “The hair is . . . interesting. Was it your idea?”
“Rory thought that with the opening coming, it might be time for a new look.”
“Well then, she succeeded beautifully. I raised her, and I nearly walked right past her. Can you imagine?” She turned to look at Rory then, holding her gaze for an uncomfortable beat. “It’s rather disconcerting to not recognize your own daughter.”
Rory stared back, startled by the brief flash of pain in her mother’s eyes. Not anger. Not jealousy. Pain. And she’d put it there. She’d been so caught up in the magic of the afternoon that she hadn’t given a thought to how her mother would feel about being cast aside for Soline—again. Soline had warned her that this might happen. And now here they were, face-to-face, looking petulant and uncomfortable.
“The haircut was my idea, Mother. I asked—”
Camilla turned back to Soline, cutting Rory off midsentence. “I couldn’t help noticing, you call my daughter Rory.”
“It’s what she calls herself.”
“Her father and I always preferred Aurora.”
“Yes, she told me. Is it a family name?”
“No. Just one we liked. We never cared for the shortened version. It’s so boyish, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . .” Soline cocked her head, studying Rory with a little smile. “It’s young and fresh. I think it suits her. ”
It was all Rory could do not to bark out a laugh. Soline was apparently quite capable of holding her own. “Actually,” she said, sliding a slice of flatbread onto her plate, “it was my father who started calling me Rory. He wanted a boy but got me instead.” She paused for a dramatic sigh. “My poor parents. I couldn’t seem to please either one of them.”
Camilla tossed her head with a little laugh. “Really, Aurora. What a thing to say.”
Rory swallowed her response as the waitress appeared with Camilla’s order and place setting, and for a few minutes the table went quiet. Camilla picked up her fork, poking suspiciously at the scoop of lobster meat on her plate. Rory eyed her warily while she nibbled her flatbread, grateful for the cessation of hostilities, if only temporarily.