The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,56
to Griff and gave him an anemic smile. “How are you this evening, Mr. Griffith?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“His last name is Mitchell, Mom. Griffin is his first name.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Mitchell. How very silly of me. I don’t know where my mind is sometimes.”
Cass rolled her eyes. Her mother was acting like that crazy Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire. Which was not her style. At all. She was playing the passive-aggressive card, and Cass wanted to strangle her big time.
“I understand,” he said. “Just call me Griff.”
“We dropped off my groceries and decided to stop by and eat,” Cass said.
“How wonderful. Would that table do?” Gloria pointed to one in the corner, as if Cass didn’t know the layout of the place down to the last saltshaker.
“That table is perfect,” Griff said to Gloria. “Could you join us?”
Cass kicked him in the ankle.
“Oh, how very sweet of you to ask, Mr. Griffith, but I’m much too busy working. And I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
Griff opened his mouth, and Cass kicked him again. Harder. “Another time, Mom. Would you send someone over with a couple of beers?”
When they were seated, Griff leaned over and asked quietly, “Does your mother have memory problems?”
“Nope. She’s sharp as a tack. Sharper.”
“I was afraid of that. I don’t think she likes me.”
Cass was trying to think of an appropriate response without flat out lying when Gloria came sashaying over with two draft beers on a tray. She tripped—quite theatrically, Cass thought—and dumped both foaming mugs smack in Griff’s lap.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Horrified, Cass watched Griff’s eyes widen, but he didn’t say a word.
“Mother!” Cass grabbed a handful of napkins.
“Oh, dear merciful heavens, Mr. Griffith, I’m so sorry. Don’t move. I’ll get some towels. Jeff! Bring towels!” she shouted over her shoulder.
With the yelling, customers who’d missed the original catastrophe added their stares to the others who were gawking at the beer dripping from Griff’s lap onto the floor.
“Oh, Mr. Griffith, can you ever forgive me? Sometimes my arthritis acts up, and I get so clumsy.”
“What arthritis?” Cass said. “You don’t have arthritis.”
“Don’t worry about it, Ms. O’Connor,” Griff said. “Accidents happen. My mom has arthritis, and sometimes her hands bother her, as well.”
“Well, bless your heart, Mr. Griffith. Aren’t you the sweetest thing. Here, Jeff’s brought some towels. Let me help you clean up.” She began dabbing at his lap.
“I think I can handle it,” he said, looking pained as he grabbed the towels from Gloria.
If Cass hadn’t been so ticked off at her mother, she would have laughed. “Let’s go upstairs to my apartment, Griff, and you can shower. I’ll wash your clothes and put them in the drier.”
It was her mother’s turn to look horrified. Good enough for her.
Griff nodded and tried to dry off as best he could. When he rose, he laughed and said loudly enough for all the gawkers to hear, “Sorry about the interruption, everybody. Dessert is on me.” He glanced down at his lap. “As is my beer.”
Everybody laughed along with him.
“Mother,” Cass muttered between clenched teeth. “We’ll talk later.”
She and Griff hurried out the back way and up to her apartment.
“Griff, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into my mom. This isn’t like her.”
“Don’t worry, honey. Accidents happen.” He stripped off his clothes and handed them to her.
“You know and I know that what happened was no accident. Why would Mom do such a thing? I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. For some reason she doesn’t like me, and she’s a lioness protecting her cub. Give me some time. I’ll bring her around.” He gave Cass a peck on the nose. “Would you get my gym bag from the car?”
“Sure. And I’ll call downstairs and have our food delivered up here.”
“Mind if we skip the chili tonight? I’ve lost my taste for chili and beer.”
GRIFF DECIDED TO GO back to his condo and leave Cass to her work. She wondered if it wasn’t merely a polite kiss-off. No, he was sincere, she told herself, when he’d said it would take more than a little beer to get rid of him for good.
He might be polite and forgiving, but Cass was royally pissed at her mother, and she stomped downstairs to confront her. Aunt Min saw her come in, and hurried to meet her.
“Oh, Cass, I’m so sorry about what happened. Did Griff leave?”
“Naturally. Were you a part of the floor show?”
“Absolutely not! I was in the kitchen.”
“Where’s Mom?”
“Hiding in the office. Are you angry?”
“Of course I’m angry.”