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“Casey, right?” she asked. “You're not the same Casey that Adam talked about the other day, are you?”
I took a long swallow from my wine. That was when I noticed Casey didn't have a wineglass in front of her or anything to drink at all, aside from water, for that matter.
“Uhh, well, I don't know,” she said, glancing over at me. “I'm not sure what Adam said, so I can't be sure it was me.”
“Oh, just that he'd seen you leaving Malcolm's office the other day,” she chirped. “He also said you looked a little disheveled as you left?”
Casey froze, and I saw the flash of fear in her eyes. She cut a quick glance at me, as if she wasn't sure what to say and didn't want to step in it.
Trying to change the subject, I said, “Alba, could get you Casey some wine, please?”
Alba brought over a glass for Casey, setting it down in front of her. Casey leaned into Alba and said something in Spanish that I couldn't understand. Alba smiled and ran into the kitchen. Casey caught me staring, and I turned back to Danielle.
“Adam didn't see anything, Danielle,” I said. “Thought we'd already cleared that up the other night.”
Casey's eyes narrowed as she looked at me, just as Alba came back from the kitchen with a second glass in hand. She placed it in front of Casey and removed the wine glass. Oh yeah, that's right. Casey didn't drink. To think, I hadn't believed her when she'd mentioned it during the interview. I had her sign a document and everything, promising me she wouldn't drink, and it had briefly been a point of contention between us.
“It just seems strange that he'd mention a brunette named Casey, and then bring her over for the next family dinner,” Danielle argued.
Adam stayed remarkably quiet, which was unusual for him. I watched him closely, and I noticed him stealing glances over at Danielle. The two shared a lot of stares – just quick glances here and there. I wouldn't have picked up on it had I not noticed that Adam was being extra quiet tonight and letting the drama unfold without his input.
Finally, when Danielle wouldn't let it drop, Adam sighed. “Fine, I met her at Crane Enterprises, yes, but I may have been wrong about her leaving Malcolm's office,” he snapped. “Happy now, Danielle?”
“No,” Danielle spat.
She shot a look of death in Adam's direction, but then replaced it with her normal, non-emotional expression.
“But I'll let it drop, for now,” she said. “Since I'm not rude and would hate to ruin this fabulous meal.”
“Yes, let's eat,” Mom said. “I'll go see what's taking Alba so long.”
Mom stood up and went into the kitchen, and we could hear the two women talking. No one at the table said another word, even though Danielle was sighing left and right, clearly demanding attention in her passive-aggressive way.
She wanted someone to notice. I'd noticed, but I wasn't about to ask her what was wrong, because quite honestly, I couldn't care less what was wrong with her. My focus was on Casey – and getting her through the minefield that was my family, unscathed.
Casey stared down at her fingernails, picking at the polish on her thumbnail. The strapless dress she was wearing showed off her shoulders, which were dotted with an array of freckles I'd never noticed before. Even though I'd seen her naked, I'd been too caught up in her and the moment and had somehow missed them. She caught me staring and looked up, a nervous, shy smile on her face.
I smiled back at her, hoping to let her know it would be okay. This was my family, it was normal for us to fight and snipe at one another whenever we were together in the same room. I adored my mother and Alba. I respected my dad but being in the same room with him always lead to us butting heads. I knew there'd be no escaping at least one argument between the old man and I tonight, I just hoped it was nothing too bad. Not in front of Casey. I cared about what she thought of my family. It mattered to me.
Danielle grabbed my hand while I shared a moment with Casey. Before I knew what was happening, she placed it on her belly and beamed.
“Feel it this time, Malcolm?” she asked, her voice high and bright. “Please tell me you felt that kick. I thought this little guy was going to kick my bladder across the room.”
Casey's smile faded, and she went back to picking at her fingernail. The moment we were sharing had obviously passed.
“No, still feel nothing at all,” I muttered.
The kitchen doors swung open, and Alba came in pushing a tray loaded with plates of food. Steam rose from the plates as she set them down on the table in front of each of us.
“Casey, you're not allergic to shellfish, are you?” my mom asked Casey.
“No, Mrs. Crane,” she said. “I'm not.”
“Good, because tonight we're having one of my favorites – shrimp scaloppini with a white wine reduction,” Mom said, beaming with absolute joy.
“It sounds delicious,” Casey said.
