in my mouth. Mrs. Francis really knows her way around a griddle and I respect her skills heartily.
“Yes,” he says. “We’re having a date day.”
I finish chewing. So much yum. “What does this date day entail, exactly?”
He sighs and stares out into the garden. Outside is all gray skies and autumn colors. A no doubt cold wind blows the remaining leaves from the bushes and potted topiary trees. “Last night was a big one in all the ways. So I’m thinking we get food delivered, binge a TV show…things like that.”
“Sounds good.”
Which of course is when his cell goes off. He picks it up with a frown, finger moving across the screen. “Shit,” he mumbles.
“What?”
“I’m needed in at Elliot Corp.” He frowns. “Emma’s on her emergency second honeymoon in Paris and Grandma’s laid up with a headache. Ethan needs me to go in and sit in on a meeting. Be the second signatory on a contract. It shouldn’t take long. I’m sorry, beloved.”
“It’s fine,” I say. Something that turns out to be the biggest lie of all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Mrs. Elliot.”
Catherine looks around the library with a we-are-not-amused type of expression. Lips a fine line and gaze cranky. The Queen of England couldn’t beat her for attitude. She’s in a white Chanel suit with low matching pumps. You couldn’t ask for better armor to intimidate your opponent. Especially since I’m in jeans, white T-shirt bodysuit, and the blue Louboutin flats. None of them are up to defending me against Beck’s grandmother when she’s in a mood and wearing haute couture and a frown.
I give Mrs. Francis a nod and she backs out of the room, closing the door behind her. But not before I spy Winston waiting outside. Neither of us is smiling. Catherine sure has a way of setting a room at unease.
Since Beck had to work I figured I might as well also. The latest website from Matías is finished and I’ve identified a local newspaper doing solid journalism and a food bank who could both use donations from the foundation. It feels good, spreading the money around. God knows my boyfriend doesn’t need it all.
“Beck isn’t here right now,” I say, standing at the desk.
“I know.”
I just wait. Whatever her game is, I’m not playing.
With all due elegance, she perches on the chaise longue. Unlike the office at her place, there’s no real throne-like chair here for her to rule from. Sucks to be her. “An interesting choice of home.”
“We like it.”
“All of the noise and filth of the city right outside your doors. I daresay you do.”
Ouch. I retake my seat because keeping the desk between us seems wise. The woman might be elderly, but she’s also nasty. She looks down her nose at me and I just want her the hell gone. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Elliot?”
“You and my grandson looked very cozy last night.”
Again I say nothing.
Her jaw shifts. In anger or frustration perhaps, I don’t know. “Alice, you’ve had your fun. It’s time for you to go. I had hoped Rachel would see to getting rid of you, by money or might, but that wasn’t the case. She’s always had a weak spot for Beck. I should have known better than to entrust the task to her.”
I take a sip of water for my dry throat. Conflict always sets me on edge. “Did you really expect Rachel and me to arm wrestle it out or something?”
“I expected her to see to the family interests in this delicate time so soon after my son’s death.” Her nose goes higher in the air. Much more and she’ll give herself a nosebleed. “Not support Beck in his endeavors to make you palatable. As if a makeover and some decent clothes could fix the problem. Let alone his having Matías offer you a job.”
“Beck didn’t ask Matías to—”
“Of course he did,” she says, voice cold as ice. “He couldn’t have you serving beers to drunkards in some dive. A waitress…how ridiculous. I’m surprised there aren’t peanut shells on the floor in here to make you feel more at home.”
I frown and keep my mouth shut.
“Did you truly think you’d been given the job on your own merit? How laughable. You with neither experience nor a clue. Of course, Matías has always been hostile and treacherous when it came to the family. The perfect example of why not to marry outside one’s class.” She smiles and it’s a cunning, malicious thing. “Beck forgot that people talk. They