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“Well—”
“Did you just now see me stealing those salt and pepper shakers?”
He nodded.
“I was stealing them, you understand. I’m a thief! Now, are you going to tell him about it or not?”
“I—”
He looked so flustered that a little of her anger abated, and she began to feel a bit sorry for him. “Let me give you some advice, if I may. Beddington is a demanding employer. If he finds out you’ve been withholding information from him, he’ll be enormously displeased. And I can tell you from personal experience that he’s horrid when he’s displeased.”
If anything, he looked even more distressed. She felt like a bully, and her anger faded. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how we recover from them that counts, isn’t it? I suggest you make some careful notes before you call him. Tell him everything about the drugstore. And don’t forget to be very specific about the salt and pepper shakers. How does that sound to you?”
He swallowed.
She waited, giving him time to consider his options.
“Who’s Beddington?” he finally asked.
>
She stared at him. He looked so baffled, so embarrassed . . .
Heat began to crawl from her chest to her neck. She felt it creeping over her jaw and pooling in two bright circles on her cheeks.
And then she heard a familiar drawl coming from just behind her left shoulder. “Is this insane woman harassing you, Father Joseph?”
Father Joseph?
Emma whimpered. Kenny took her arm before she could turn and run. “Lady Emma, I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to Father Joseph Antelli. He’s been head priest at St. Gabriel’s for—How long’s it been, Father? Twenty years?”
“Nineteen.”
“That’s right. I was still raising hell when you came here.”
The priest nodded.
She whimpered again. “But . . . you—you can’t be a priest. You hang out in bars and wear orange T-shirts, and—”
“Now, Lady Emma, it’s hardly polite to criticize a man of God for his lack of fashion sense. And the Roustabout happens to have the best food in town. If I’m not mistaken, the local clergy holds their interdenominational meetings here, isn’t that right, Father?”
“The first Wednesday of every month.”
“But . . . you were watching me.”
“I’m very sorry about that, Lady Emma,” he said earnestly. “I’ve always been a bit of an anglophile, and I wanted to chat with you about England. Father Emmett and I are planning a trip there in the fall. I should have simply introduced myself, but when I realized how . . . complicated your personal life was, I decided not to intrude on your privacy.”
“Oh, dear. I can explain. All those things you saw—I mean, the other night . . . and the way I was sitting on Kenny’s lap . . . and the salt and pepper shakers—It’s—”
“Her friends are going to make sure she gets treatment real soon,” Kenny said.
Father Joseph regarded her with kind eyes. “Psychological problems are nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll pray for you, Lady Emma.”
As Kenny drew her away, all she could do was moan.
“You made me look like a fool!”
Kenny followed her as she rushed from the Roustabout. “Excuse me for pointing this out, but you did that all by yourself.”
