“Yes! I’d love an order of French toast, please,” I jump in before Henry can decline, raising my eyebrows expectantly at him. His daughter is sitting across from him. This is a real chance to get to know her while he’s playing the white knight and her defenses are down.
“Make it two. And if she’s done murdering her food, perhaps a fresh plate of something else that she’ll eat?” He refers to Violet in third person, but he’s staring at her.
Violet’s face morphs with a grin as she sets her cutlery down. It’s the first smile we’ve seen touch her face, and it transforms her from pretty to downright beautiful. “I like French toast.”
“Three orders of French toast, comin’ right up!” The waitress whisks Violet’s plate from her and strolls away.
“I have a few phone calls to make. I’ll be back.”
“Okay, cutie pie,” I tease.
He leans in to whisper, “You’ll pay for that one later.” With a quick kiss on my cheek, he slides out of our crammed booth.
Violet watches over her shoulder as Henry strolls toward the door with a graceful stride, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Is he calling my grandparents?”
“He did when we got here. Now he’s calling his real estate guy.” On a Sunday morning, no less, and Henry will expect the man to answer.
“Already?”
That makes me chuckle. “He doesn’t waste time.”
“But he’ll do what he says he’s going to?” There’s doubt in her voice.
I take a long sip of my coffee. “If he says he’s going to do something, he’ll do it.” I can’t believe I’m sitting across from Henry’s child.
She watches me with unabashed curiosity for a long moment. “So you work for … him?” She falters on him, as if she doesn’t know what else to call Henry.
I decide not to push the father thing just yet. “I was Henry’s assistant for a bit while we were in Alaska this past summer, but I don’t work for his company anymore.”
“Did you like working for him?”
I consider my answer. “It had its benefits.” None that I’ll ever admit to. “But it’s better this way.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek, as if holding back questions she’s dying to ask.
So I share information about myself freely. “I’m a few credits away from finishing my college degree, which I’m doing by correspondence, and I’m starting my own soap company.”
“Soap. That’s … cool, maybe?” Her pinched face says otherwise.
I laugh. “I’ve been making soap and oils and things since I was, well … your age, and I love doing it.”
She fidgets with the cuffs on her sweatshirt. “When’s the wedding?”
“Next spring.”
Violet peers at my hand. “Is that your engagement ring?”
“It is.” I hold my hand out, admiring the pearl. “It was Henry’s grandmother’s ring. The gold is from the Wolf mine.” It dawns on me then. “This was your great-grandmother’s ring.”
She nods slowly, as if she’s connecting the dots to this foreign new life of hers. How weird it must be to have an entire side of your family that you know nothing about. “It’s pretty. Not flashy.”
“No, it’s elegant but understated. Henry said that’s what she was like. Marianne Wolf was her name. I don’t know much else about her.”
Henry strolls past us on the sidewalk, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression stern as he makes his demands. He used to intimidate me so much when he was like this, but now my pulse stirs watching him. He’s in charge and he will get what he wants.
“What if it isn’t a good deal?” Violet asks.
“Huh?” Her question catches me off guard.
She trails him with curious eyes. “What if his guy says Barbara’s trying to take advantage of us?”
“Then Barbara will be lucky if she can sell a Barbie house by the time Henry is finished with her.” The woman has no idea who she’s trying to swindle.
A few beats pass and then Violet’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. “Thanks for listening to me when no one else would.” She may not have had kind words for me the last time we met, but at least she doesn’t seem to hate me.
“You’re welcome.” I remember being fifteen. Not yet an adult and yet not a child anymore. Then again, Mama still dismisses my opinions on things now. “But I’m not the only one who listened.” I point toward the brooding man who paces outside, the blustering breeze fanning his hair. Henry is the one getting things done. I only nudged him.