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“Take deep breaths.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into doing this! Oh, Lord, Torie, there’s a car coming up behind us!”
“As long as you don’t slam on the brakes, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I decided to stop smoking, and I need a distraction. Making somebody else miserable seemed like a good idea.” Torie’s voice grew belligerent. “And I’m giving up cigarettes for myself, not for anybo
dy else. So if anybody says anything to you about the fact that I’m not smoking, you tell him to mind his own gee dee business!”
“I can’t do this much longer. I want to stop.”
“There’s a diner in town. We’ll stop there.”
“Town! I can’t!”
“Now that you’ve got your tendency to drive on the wrong side of the road straightened out, you’re doing just fine.”
“I don’t—I don’t have a license.”
“I’m good friends with most of the cops around here. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried. I’m terrified!”
“We’re both still alive, so that should count for something.”
Somehow she made it into town and managed to pull into a large space next to the diner. She turned off the ignition and leaned back against the seat in relief.
Torie grinned. “Proud of yourself?”
Emma scowled at her.
“Come on, admit it. You’ve done something you didn’t think you could do.”
Now that her heart rate was beginning to return to normal, maybe she did feel a little proud. Being unable to drive limited her life in so many ways. Not that she could drive now. “I’ll admit I’m happy we’re still alive,” she said begrudgingly.
Torie laughed. “Come on. I’ll buy you coffee to celebrate.”
Inside Jimmy’s Diner a model train chugged along a track that ran just below the ceiling. Chrome chairs sat around tables covered in black-and-white-checked oilcloth, and two ceiling fans spun overhead. A blackboard near the entrance listed the day’s lunch special: chicken-fried pork chops, stewed okra, along with a carrot and “raisen” salad. Emma was uncomfortable with the idea of a young child coming in and seeing that, so she requested a piece of chalk from the woman at the register and corrected the spelling.
Torie hooted and hugged her.
They sat at a table that held A-1 Steak Sauce and Tabasco, along with the more usual condiments. On the wall next to them hung a painting of a rooster and a red lantern. As the model train passed over their heads, she saw that each car was painted with the sign of a local business.
While Torie sipped the coffee the waitress brought and Emma waited for her tea, she thought back to her conversation with Beddington. Why hadn’t the burly man told him everything he’d seen? What kind of incompetent spy had Hugh hired?
“Good morning, ladies.”
Dexter O’Conner approached the table. This morning he wore a yellow oxford shirt instead of blue. He looked pleasantly rumpled, a bit distracted, and rather adorable. She smiled at him. “Hello, Dexter.”
“Emma. Victoria.”
“That’s Lady Emma to you,” Torie snapped.
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I see your attitude hasn’t changed. You might as well go ahead and order your wedding dress.”
Emma expected Torie to leap all over that, but instead, she seemed to make an effort to pull herself together. She even managed to give Dexter a rather stiff smile. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. If it’s all right with Lady Emma, you can join us.”
