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But it’s temporary.
It’s just a stop in my life, and if I let myself get sucked into its charms, it’ll break me when I have to leave.
Helen comes down from the house. I introduce her to Phel, pour her some champagne, and listen to her stories about Evander and the other mafia guys. Most of them are funny, if a little violent, and Phel gets along with her perfectly.
“You know, Camille, I noticed something recently.” Helen gives me a sidelong grin. “You and Evander haven’t been talking much.”
I look down at my hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on, there’s trouble. Is it stress from—” She stops herself, glancing at Phel. “You know, what happened?”
“That’s not ominous,” Phel says. “I know about the diner.”
“It’s that and it’s a lot more.” I stretch my legs, sighing. “Things are complicated between us. You know, my ex-husband, the whole Italian thing, the divorce, the paperwork—”
“Paperwork?” Helen raises her eyebrows.
I grimace. I shouldn’t have said anything about that—we’re still trying to keep it a secret. “Just stupid divorce stuff. He’s been so busy with his, uh,businessthat it’s like he doesn’t live here.”
“That’s how they are,” Helen says seriously. “When things go bad, it’s all about the business.”
“But I never know when the, uh, business is going to get, you know, uh—”
“You two are talking about violent mafia stuff, aren’t you?” Phel asks, looking between us. “You’re totally talking about violent mafia stuff. It’s okay, I can plug my ears and sing the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ until you’re done. My country, ‘tis of thee…”
“Wrong song,” I say, laughing.
“You’re worried about him, I totally get that,” Helen says. “But don’t let the stress of his job get between you. I saw it happen to Mom and Dad, and it was just—things were ugly sometimes.” She smiles to herself as she finishes her glass of champagne. “I remember they used to do this thing where like once a month they’d come out here and have a picnic. No kids, no staff, no family, just the two of them by the lake. Mom used to call it getting grounded. They needed to do that, ground themselves with each other, away from all the stress in their lives.”
“That’s really sweet,” I say. “How come Evander never told me about that?”
“Evander doesn’t like talking about Mom and Dad all that much.” She glances toward the house. “Speaking of which. Look who’s coming to the party.”
I follow her gaze. Evander’s walking toward us in a linen shirt and a pair of khaki pants. He looks good, healthy and big and strong, with a pair of dark sunglasses on. He takes them off as he pauses. “Hello, ladies,” he says.
“Hello yourself, brother,” Helen says. “You come down here to ruin our good time?”
“Only came to introduce myself to Camille’s friend.” He nods to Ophelia. “Lovely to meet you officially. Outside of the diner, I mean.”
“Good to meet you too,” she says, grinning at him.
“Camille.” He glances at me. “Can I have a word?”
I hesitate. I want to stay here with Helen and Phel, but I can’t exactly turn him down. “Sure, just a second.” I get up and follow him a few feet away.
“Did you pass your friend through security?” he asks quietly, standing close. “Did she get a pat-down? Did Alonzo question her?”
I stare at him before laughing in his face. “Are you being serious? Evander, it’s Ophelia. Her dad worships you.”
“I know you think she’s not a threat—”
“Evander, that’s insanely paranoid, even for you.”
His eyes darken. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“Try some other way then. I’m not letting Alonzo pat down my friend.”
“Camille—”
