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A blonde woman, I assume must be Ryder’s mother, stands the moment she spots us. She has a wide smile on her face as she approaches.
“Hi, Mom.” Ryder kisses her cheek, and her eyes fall on me.
“You must be Ash. This son of mine did you no justice. You’re gorgeous.” She leans in and wraps her arms around me. She is the gorgeous one. Her hazel eyes sparkle, and she doesn’t look old enough to be Ryder’s mom. Her green dress accentuates her hourglass figure and brings out her eyes.
“Mrs. Rothwell. You’re too kind. It is wonderful to meet you. Thanks for having me.”
“Come along, and please call me Ruth.” She links her arm with mine and leads me to the elegantly decorated gazebo. The table is laid with several salads, sandwiches, and wraps. It’s an elaborate spread for a party of four.
“This looks wonderful,” I say and her eyes sparkle. It’s difficult to imagine that just a few weeks ago this woman tried to take her own life.
“Oh, I can’t take the credit. Maria, our housekeeper, is a magnificent cook.”
“What my mother means to say is that you’d leave with food poisoning if she’d attempted half of this spread.”
“Hush you,” Ruth smacks his arm playfully.
Mr. Rothwell joins us. “Ah, Ash, is it? How nice to see you again.” The older man’s gray eyes roam over me, a wicked glint in them. It makes me want to cover up. I get what Marcy said about him giving her the creeps. “I can see why Ryder’s hidden you this long.”
“Thank you for having me Mr. Rothwell.”
“Come, sit,” he motions to the table, and we take our seats.
Despite the food in front of us, we’re served a cold pasta dish as an appetizer and a Thai green curry for mains. Conversation, though stilted, isn't awkward. Ruth is lovely and is an avid reader, like me.
She used to be a designer from the sounds of it but has been a kept woman since marrying Coben Rothwell. Ryder’s father makes me uncomfortable, and as if sensing this Ryder’s hand rarely leaves mine.
“I was sorry to hear of your parents passing, Ash?”
I shift in my seat. “I wasn’t aware you knew them,” I say, feeling those familiar knots in my stomach and gut. Ryder squeezes my hand.
“Oh, we go way back with your aunt Felicity. It is an awful thing to lose one’s parents so young.” Coben’s eyes rest on his wife and she visibly shrinks.
“It is sad indeed,” Ruth says. “You know Felicity?” Her eyes lock with her husband.
It’s obvious, as the founder of the college where my aunt works, they would cross paths. But she seems to insinuate they’ve known each other for a long time.
Ryder frowns.
“Oh, a long time ago, we used to be friends, didn’t we, Ruthie?” Coben takes a long sip of his bourbon and I see Ruth’s eyes fall to his glass. Ryder told me about her drinking problems, and that she’s been sober since her return.
“Well, it is a small world, isn’t it?” I say, forcing a smile. I need to talk to my aunt.
“And what are your plans after college?”
“Coben, give the girl a break. I doubt Ash is interested in talking about that,” Ruth says.
“Yeah, dad.” Ryder’s shoulders stiffen. We’ve talked about the fight he had with his father about his choice to paint instead of joining the family business. I’m aware tensions are high. The two men have been skirting around each other the entire meal.
“It’s all right. I’m studying literature, so that is probably the path I’ll be heading down.”
“A writer? Fascinating. I hear it’s a tough industry, as with all other hobbies. Right, son?”
“That’s enough!” Ryder slams his fist on the table, making me flinch. He clenches his jaw as he stares at his father. “This isn’t a fucking interrogation. If you have something to say to me, be man enough to come out and say it.”
“Isshethe reason your head is in the clouds?” Mr. Rothwell glares at me like he’d like nothing more than to crush me, and it sends shivers down my spine.
“Coben. Can we have lunch in peace?” Ruth shakes her head, looking sympathetically at me.
