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“Her mother is involved with someone, someone who lives here in New York, but I get the impression only Allie knows about it. Her mother lives in the state of Wisconsin also, with Allie’s father, of course. Her sister lives here in New York.”
“Okay. Hold up. Sometimes I can barely understand a word you’re saying. So her mother lives here, but used to live in Wisconsin, and this Allie has been looking for her?”
“No. Her mother’s run away from Wisconsin to take up with a man who’s not Allie’s father, well, not exactly, and Allie is trying to stop it, I believe before her parents’ wedding anniversary party.”
“And you’re sure this Allie is, like, reas
onably sane? Because this sounds more than ‘complicated.’?”
“Quite sane. Though she is a terrible spy, despite looking lovely in a trench coat.”
Beatrice stopped in the sidewalk again and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the side. “I am officially skipping dance class. There’s this hamburger place that makes amazing omelets around the corner. Let’s eat there.”
“I won’t tell you this story for less than a place with tablecloths and decent tea.” It was, he felt, a proper fatherly offer, which would remind her of the importance of table manners and formal dining.
Beatrice narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. “Fine. But it has to be within a six-block radius, because I have a thing in two hours.”
“Excellent. We’ll have to go on foot at any rate. I gave Jean to Allie for the day.”
Beatrice started dragging him across the street by his hand, and Winston grinned.
—
“Oh my God.” Beatrice, despite recent claims that “only street food” was worth eating, was doing a good job of her brioche French toast and capered poached eggs. Her table manners, Winston observed, were as pristine as ever.
“Yes, well.”
“Justice. Fuck. You never told me he was your client.”
“You never asked.”
“He’s like the great white whale. I know this guy who’s taking that documentary film class I couldn’t get into, you remember I told you about it, and he said the professor’s been trying to get Justice on camera for, like, fifteen years. And you regularly meet him for beers.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘regularly.’ I’ve met him several times.”
She polished off the last bite of French toast. When the waiter filled her water glass, she thanked him. Sometimes she reminded him so much of Rosemary it took his breath away. “Sure, but you could arrange a meeting.”
“For your professor? I think—”
“For Allie. I mean, you like her, right? And this guy’s her dad.”
“Her birth father.”
“Right. So you were the exact right person for her to meet. She comes to New York, follows her mom to a bar, and there you are. It’s like karma or something. I wonder if you knew each other in a past life.”
“You don’t believe in past lives.”
“I’m not speaking literally. But you must see what I mean. What are the odds that of all the people she might run into in New York, she ran into the one person who can set up a meeting with her dad?”
“It is a coincidence, in some ways. However, Justice always goes to Pulvermacher’s, which means it’s one of the only bars I know in that neighborhood. If you recall, I was in that neighborhood because we were supposed to meet, and you blew me off.”
“It’s so important that I blew you off! If I hadn’t, you would never have met Allie, could never help her reunite her family, and you would never get off your sofa and fall in love! I should blow you off more often.”
“Any more often and I would never see you at all.” Winston allowed her remark about falling in love to pass him by. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Beatrice made a perfectly Rosemary sound in her throat that meant the same thing it meant from her mother. Thank you. I am done with this conversation.
“Have you talked to your mum lately?”
