“No, you’re not.” Kate lit a cigarette and gave a long theatrical sigh. “Jesus. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”
“Sick of what?”
“Sick of this.” Kate gestured at the other tables. “Is it not possible for you to have dinner without five hundred people applauding?”
Lana opened the menu and studied it. “Hardly five hundred. Just a few tables. It made them happy. It didn’t cost me much to oblige.”
“Well, it cost me.”
“Did it?” Lana looked up. Her smile was wavering. “Did it cost you so very much, Kate?”
Kate ignored her and turned to Babis. “I need a drink. Champagne?”
“But of course.” Babis bowed and looked at Lana. “And for Madame?”
Lana didn’t reply; she seemed not to hear him. She kept staring at Kate with a strange, puzzled expression.
Leo nudged her. “Mum? Can we order, please?”
“Yes,” said Jason. “For Christ’s sake, let’s get this charade over with.”
“Wait a second,” I said, poring over the menu. “I don’t know what I want yet. I love ordering in Greek restaurants, don’t you? I want it all—all seventy-five courses.”
That made Lana smile, and she snapped out of it. She ordered for the table.
It must be said that one of Lana’s most endearing skills was ordering well—overgenerously, usually far too much; and she always insisted on picking up the bill, which made her the perfect host in my book. She chose a selection of dips and salads, local squid and lobsters, meatballs and mashed potatoes; and the house specialty, a large sea bass, baked in a flaming salt crust, smashed open by Babis at the table: theatrical and delicious.
Having taken the order, Babis departed, bowing low as he went, dispatching waiters to fetch our food and drinks. Champagne appeared; a glass poured for everyone except Leo.
“I’d like to make a toast.” I raised my glass. “To Lana. To thank her, for her incredible generosity and for—”
Kate snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’m not participating in this performance.”
“Sorry?” I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Work it out.” Kate knocked back her champagne. “Having a good time, are you? Enjoying yourself?”
To my surprise, I realized Kate was directing this at me. Her voice was sarcastic. When I looked into her eyes, I saw burning anger.
Apparently, I had accidentally stumbled into her firing line. A quick glance at Lana told me that she saw this, too. I gave Lana a reassuring smile—to show I could take care of myself.
Then I turned back to Kate. “Yes, I am, thanks, Kate. I’m having a lovely time.”
“Oh, good.” Kate lit a cigarette. “Enjoying the show?”
“Very much so. After a slow start, it’s picking up enormously. I can’t wait to see the finale. I bet you have something really spectacular planned.”
“I’ll do my best. You’re such a good audience.” Kate smiled dangerously. “Always watching—aren’t you, Elliot? Always scheming. What’s going on in your little mind? Hmm? What plots are you hatching?”
I didn’t know why Kate was attacking me like this. I doubted she knew herself. She had no reason to be angry with me; I thought she must be lashing out because she assumed I wouldn’t fight back. Well, she was wrong. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you must stand up for yourself.
Nobody loves a doormat, Barbara West used to say. They just wipe their feet on it. God knows, Barbara trampled all over me for years. I learned that lesson the hard way.
“You’re in a foul mood tonight, Kate.” I sipped my champagne. “What’s going on? Why are you determined to ruin this?”
“Do you really want me to answer that? I can if you like.”
“Kate,” Lana said in a low voice. “Stop this. Now.”
The two women stared at each other for a moment. Lana’s eyes said that she’d had enough. To my surprise, the intervention succeeded; Kate unwillingly backed down.
Then Kate made a sudden movement—and for a split second I thought she was about to lunge at me or Lana across the table, or something crazy like that—but she didn’t.
She stood up, jerkily, unsteady on her feet. “I’m—I need the bathroom.”
“Going to powder your nose?” I asked.
Kate didn’t reply. She stalked off.
I glanced at Lana. “What the hell’s the matter with her?”