“Stop being such a reporter,” I said. “Just thank me for handing you the title.”
He shrugged. “You can have it back. I’d much rather know the scandal.”
I looked out the window, and after a second, he changed tack. “So, how’d you meet this money-hungry hedge funder from Dallas?”
I rolled my eyes. “Covering an event for The Slice. The Cowboys were hosting a fundraiser for breast cancer research. I thought it might be a nice angle, you know, football players wearing pink and doing something nice for women. Cal was one of the attendees. He made the biggest donation out of anyone.” I didn’t mention that philanthropy was a competitive sport in Highland Park, a way for old Dallas families to flaunt their wealth. And Cal liked winning.
“Ah. So you got swept off your feet by a big shot. Makes sense.”
“Why?”
“Remember how obsessed you were with Anderson Thomas in high school? That’s your type. The prom king.”
My mouth went dry. I quickly changed the subject. “Cal and I got married a year ago. It was a small wedding.”
He shot me a look, mouth quirking. “I bet your mom was thrilled you married a rich guy.”
I huffed a laugh. “Marrying Cal’s about the only thing I’ve ever done right.”
“Yeah, well, she was always desperate for you to not end up like her.”
My smile faded. “I barely talk to her these days.”
“Yeah, I know.” He glanced at me in the rearview. “Trust me, she told me.”
***
Hudson Delights was a small, old-timey building on a picturesque postcard street in downtown Beacon. How in the world Laurel had found this place, and what brought her here, miles outside the town she lived in, to a job outside her interests, I could not guess.
Clarissa Barker, the owner, was only a decade or so older than us, or so I’d read on the internet. In person, she looked considerably older. Her face was lined, skin rough, nose red and bulbous. She telegraphed hard living.
But her kitchen was large and clean. I looked around, trying to imagine Laurel here. In college, she couldn’t even get a grilled cheese right. Maybe she’d stuck to serving.
“Ms. Barker?” Jamie wore what I was beginning to understand was his approachable reporter face, all gentle affability. I needed to work on my own.
Clarissa glanced up but didn’t stop mixing, arm muscles flexing. “I have to do this for two more minutes or the batter’s ruined.”
“That’s okay,” I said, trying on affable. “We can wait.”
She shook her head. “Go ahead and ask me your questions. I’ve got an event tonight, so I’m on deadline.”
“Right.” Jamie pulled out his phone. “Do you mind if I record you to use in the podcast?”
She managed to shrug while swirling. “Fine by me. My daughter loves listening to those things. Maybe she’ll get a kick out of it.”
“Great,” Jamie said. “We were—”
“You can start by quoting me on this,” Clarissa interrupted, wiping her brow. “I always knew I’d be answering questions about that girl one day.”
I leaned over the stainless-steel table. “You mean Laurel?”
“Yep. I figured it was only a matter of time before someone showed up on my doorstep.”
“Can you tell us what you remember about her?”
“Before you do,” Jamie said, “do you know anything about a company called Dominus Holdings? Is it connected to Hudson Delights in any way?”