His chest rises with a deep breath but when he heads for her this time, he doesn’t look like a charging bull. “Mind if we join you?”
His voice is calm but Violet jumps, anyway, her wide eyes darting from Henry to me, and back again. “How did you find me?”
He takes that as acceptance, gesturing at the opposite bench. I slide in, and Henry sinks in beside me, his thigh pressed against mine. The booth isn’t meant for more than two people, but we can make it work. At least this allows him to face his daughter.
I hold my breath, equal parts curious and dreading how this exchange will go. I can’t see Henry handling teenage rebellion well.
“So what? You’re so rich, you have someone following me?” she mutters, the initial surprise at seeing us fading quickly, replaced by snarky armor. She jabs at a pancake with her fork. Based on the countless holes through them, she’s been at this for a while.
Henry stalls for several seconds before answering coolly, “Yes. A robotic eye that tells me everywhere you go.”
“I haven’t seen it.” Stab, stab, stab.
“That’s because it’s invisible. And it flies.”
She matches his stony expression. “An invisible flying robotic eye. That’s creepy.”
“So is you suggesting that I’ve paid someone to spy on you,” he retorts, with more than a hint of annoyance.
Violet’s lips twitch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was suppressing a smile.
“Your grandparents called me this morning, looking for you. They’re beside themselves with worry.”
She tugs at her collar, but she doesn’t respond.
“You can’t take off like that and you definitely can’t take a train to New York City whenever you damn well please. You’re fifteen.”
“And remind me, what were you doing at fifteen?” Her beautiful blue eyes—the same color as his, though not the same shape—flash with challenge.
He grinds his teeth, and I’m afraid of what will come out of his mouth next.
I smooth a hand over Henry’s thigh beneath the table. “They told us about your house going up for sale,” I cut in, hoping to steer the conversation back to safety. “That’s the house you’ve grown up in, right?”
After a beat, Violet nods.
“It must be hard for you to have to give it up.”
“It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming.” She goes back to her pancake stabbing.
“But you were still upset when the agent came by.”
“You mean Barbara?” She scowls. “Some friend.”
“The real estate agent was Audrey’s friend?” Henry asks, calm again.
Violet hesitates, as if deciding whether she wants to acknowledge his question at all. “Her best friend. Back when things started to go downhill for my mom, Barbara offered to sell the house when the time came.” She focuses on a strip of crispy bacon, twirling it this way and that between her fingertips. It looks like she’s touched—or stabbed—everything on her plate, but I don’t think she’s eaten any of it.
“Well, isn’t this snug.” A waitress with round cheeks sidles up next to our table. “Can I get you something?”
“Coffee, please. One black, one with cream and sugar,” Henry orders for me.
“Coming right up, cutie pie.” She winks at Henry and strolls away, her hips swinging.
“Cutie pie?” I echo, unable to hold my grin. Henry’s been called a lot of things. Anything referencing cute is not one of them.
He spares an eye roll for me before returning to the conversation. “Selling the house fast is a good idea. It makes it easier for your grandparents, who are dealing with a teenager who likes to sneak out and cause them stress they don’t need at their age. They’re in their eighties, Violet.” There’s that hint of a scolding tone, but not the exasperated one he’s used with me. No, this one reminds me of the time Daddy literally caught me with my hand in the cookie jar before dinner, a fistful of chocolate chip cookies in my grasp.
Henry sounds almost … fatherly.
Violet averts her gaze. At least she’s showing some guilt for what she’s put them through.
Henry sighs. “Houses cost money to maintain. The longer you guys hold on to it, the more Audrey’s estate must pay out in costs. Utility bills, taxes, that sort of thing. Barbara is trying to make sure you walk away with as much money as possible once the estate is settled.”
Violet seems to process his words, but I see the moment she rejects them. “No, but that’s not it. She doesn’t care about making me money!” she bursts, earning glances from several tables around us.