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I could practically see her eye roll from across the world.
3
Muffy liked to meet at my office and then go to lunch. It was how we did business. She had placed more money than most people would ever see into an account so that I could throw her choice cause a party. That meant she could do whatever she wanted in terms of meetings. Today, she brought her son with her and his nanny, Berta, as well. Timothy was five years old, cute with his chubby cheeks, blue eyes, and bright smile. He had the blondest hair I’d ever seen. It was practically white, and he looked just like Muffy’s husband, who was never with her and I had never seen, other than when I’d searched for them online in the beginning of our business relationship.
We’d never known each other before this all started. It wasn’t like my father had a social life or was ever seen in public. My sisters and I had created personas—sometimes on purpose in my case, sometimes not in theirs—which grew to the point where the public called us The Redheads. Why not make that work for us? Layla had run from it because that was what she needed, and Bridget didn’t care one way or another about it. But I’d managed to get the attention of people like Muffy, and that was helpingme to A, save the world, and B, support myself very well in the meantime. Sure, maybe I wasn’t actually saving the world, but I did believe I helped.
That had to mean something.
For now, as we sat in Tatty’s, the lunch place where I liked to take Muffy because she enjoyed the wine list, I half listened to my client, instead sort of focusing on her son. He played quietly with his mother’s phone while his nanny ignored him. He was really, really cute. I loved kids, always had, even if I was fairly certain that I had no business raising them.
I was a mess. Hands down. And I wasn’t going to leave children to survive in the wake of my mess like my mother did. Besides, it wasn’t like I had a slew of men lining up to have babies with me. I wasn’t going to become a parent unless I had a partner to share the experience with me. Single parenting with my already uphill battle of issues was out of the question. I wasn’t strong enough for those challenges. I admired those who did so much, but I knew I wasn’t up for that task.
It would have to be the right person too. I wasn’t going to maybe leave behind a bunch of kids with someone as inept at parenting as my father had been. Nope, I needed to cut off that train of thought immediately. It wasn’t helpful.
Muffy treated Tim like an accessory. In truth, she was more concerned with her purse than her son, not that it was any of my business. It really, truly, wasn’t. She was my client. What I thought of her parenting didn’t matter. Besides, what did I know about raising kids?
She liked to talk, and I could usually manage to take breaks from paying attention for periods of time. I cued back in right as I needed to. “Yes, we can find someplace unique. Tell me what kind of venue you are thinking about?”
Now that I’d finally nailed her down on a date—Muffy was flighty—I could work on where we were going to host the charitynight. In the next month, I’d booked out the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the roof of Chelsea Piers. There were lots of subtler places, but Muffy wouldn’t want subtle. I could just about guarantee it.
“What is the newest, hottest venue?”
The waiter chose that moment to set down my tuna tartare in front of me. I stared down at it. This was just what I’d intended to order the other night at Max’s place. I hadn’t gotten to eat it there.
Max’s place…
I stared at Muffy and smiled. “Well, you know lunch is the new dinner, when it comes to charity events.”
Her mouth fell open. “Really?”
“Really.” I nodded. I was totally lying, but if I could pull this off, everyone would be happy. “It’s cheaper, and it shows the person who is throwing the event cares more about giving the money to the cause than the venue. Just a thought. It might not be traditional or what you’re looking for, but…”
She nodded fast. “I’m in.”
“Then I just might be able to suggest the absolute perfect place.” I took a bite of my tuna. It wasn’t fantastic. Next time, I’d order something else.
Max wasn’t done with me. Not yet. I was determined to do something to help him, whether he liked it or not.
I knockedon the backdoor of Hyperion again. This time, Anna answered. She lifted her eyebrow by way of greeting, and I lifted both of mine back.
“I’ll get him.” She stepped away from the door and motioned for me to follow her. “Don’t stand on the street. It looks funny to have people at the door. This is a classy place.”
It looked funny? It was two in the afternoon. No one was there to eat yet. Still, I wasn’t going to argue with her, so I followed her inside where she stopped me with one look. “Stand here.”
Okay. I’d never been in the back of a restaurant before. Visible in the distance were two offices, and beyond that, an active kitchen. Ten people busily prepared food, and although it was quiet, two people spoke in low voices as they chopped.
My phone dinged, so I looked down at it. My secret accomplice had texted me. I smirked. He had no idea I was there, but they needed green onions. Why were green onions short? I could do a whole study on the food that could suddenly go scarce and still not understand it. How did these things work?
I sent a quick message to my cousin, who responded he’d take care of it for me. That was right. I was the provider of missing food. I was the source for it. Smirking, I shook my head. The things that happened in life could be really downright weird. Who would have ever thought I’d be doing this?
“What now?” Max leaned against the wall, looking far too sexy for so early in the afternoon. How was it his whole body screamed sex when he was doing nothing but leaning against the wall? He once again sported a chef’s uniform.
I smiled, even though I knew he wouldn’t return the effort. It was just polite. Our nannies taught us to use our manners, especially in difficult situations. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Sex won’t replace my restaurant, no matter how good you think you are at it, so if that is the proposition, you should leave right now.”
I sucked in a breath. Ouch. Okay. “I’m not…I’m not offering you that.”
