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An elegant woman’s sharp tone cut the moment into ribbons. Their heads swiveled toward the doorway.
“Mima!” Libby shrieked as she scrabbled to her feet, nearly bulldozing Reagan in the process.
“Que te pasa?” The woman Reagan guessed was Libby’s grandmother emanated concern as she gripped Libby’s arms.
“What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “I just got a little bit of bad news.
Nothing to do with the business,” she added, talking so fast she was nearly incomprehensible.
The woman, dressed in a sharp, pale pink suit, was the epitome of class and barely restrained aggression. “This is obviously not nothing. I am not accustomed to finding you floundering on the ground like a half-dead trout.”
“Mrs. Cassanova,” Reagan said as she stood and extended her hand. “I’m Reagan. Reagan Soto. It’s very nice to meet you.”
The elder Cassanova’s face undulated with subtle confusion until she o ered a tight smile. A feigned nicety.
“Reagan,” she declared finally as she embraced her in a loose hug instead of a handshake. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to meet you. Elisabeth has been rather greedy with you, I’m sorry to say.”
“What? I haven’t been hiding her.” Libby’s face was so red, Reagan worried she might have a heart attack.
“I’ve heard so much about you. I’m sorry I haven’t made this happen sooner.” Reagan looked down at herself. “This isn’t the first impression I wanted to make.”
Libby’s grandmother’s shoulders dropped a fraction.
“Elisabeth told us you have an art show to prepare for but has been very tight lipped about when.”
Libby’s eyes darted between her and her grandmother.
Reagan could almost hear her thoughts screaming out at her, begging her not to say anything wrong.
“That’s my fault,” Reagan said as she slipped her hands into the pockets of her clay-covered overalls. “I keep having to postpone it.”
Mrs. Cassanova eyed her quizzically. “I hope that’s not a testament to your ability to commit.”
“Mima, please don’t be rude,” Libby chided while still doing her best impersonation of a cherry.
Reagan chuckled. “I promise I’m much more committed to your granddaughter than an art installation.”
The elderly woman’s eyes shone with something like approval. “Por favor, Elisabeth,” she tsked, “this girl is not so fragile that she needs your protection. Are you?”
“No, señora,” Reagan replied earning an unreadable look from Libby.
“Good. Elisabeth, please make y
ourself look presentable.
We have the segment on Tonight with Terri to record.”
Shutting her eyes tightly for a moment, Libby nodded. “Of course, I’ll be right out.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t forget,” she replied with a terrifying smile. “Reagan, dear, I’ll walk you out to the lobby so Elisabeth can finish getting ready.”
When Libby didn’t protest, Reagan leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Call me when you’re finished, okay?”
Trapped somewhere between stunned and scared, Libby squeaked out an okay.
They hadn’t walked more than a couple of steps from the bathroom when Libby’s grandmother hit her with a surprise attack. “Reagan, I imagine your art will have to take a break for Thanksgiving. Can I expect you for dinner? Before you answer, you should know I don’t accept no very well and I pardon any tardiness, as I assume you celebrate with your own family.”
