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I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding so hard I was afraid I might chip a tooth. That would just add to the icing on the cake that was my life. “It’s on my credit card.”
“Psh, he can’t even pay for you.”
“Marion,” I snapped. “I invited him, so I offered to pay for the room, and not that it’s any of your business, but the man is very well off.”
“Does this man have a name, or are you purposely keeping us in suspense?”
She’d met him once, at my mother’s funeral. I doubt she’d even remember him. “His name is Laurent Grasso of Vine Valley Vineyards.” I don’t know why I added the last part, but a part of me felt I needed to prove Laurent’s success.
Marion was silent for far too long.
“Are you there?” I asked, though I should have just hung up the damn phone and ended this misery.
“Laurent, you said.”
“I did.”
“I didn’t know you two were still in touch.”
“We weren’t, then we were, and now we’re together.”
“I see. Okay, I’ll see you at the party.” The line went dead, and I pulled my phone away, staring at it. Confusion washed over me. Marion A, never got off the phone so easily and B, she didn’t ask about getting dinner when we arrived—something I could have bet my entire life savings on any other time.
“Hey!” Laurent’s voice boomed.
I glanced up, a million questions swirling in my mind.
“You okay? From back there didn’t look like a good call.”
“Um. It was Marion.”
“Everything okay?”
“Why, when I said your name, did she suddenly shut up?”
He scratched the back of his neck—a true sign he was trying to buy time to think. “I have no idea.”
I pushed from the chair and moved toward him, getting a little too close, but I needed answers. “Try again. The only thing Marion rushes off the phone for is her soap opera, which was over an hour ago. What the hell am I missing?”
He rubbed at his chin now, glancing toward the strip of food court offerings, purposely averting my eyes. “I may have had words with her a long time ago.”
“Excuse me?” How the hell did I not know about this? “What words?”
“Do you really want to do this now? In the middle of a rest stop?”
“Now is as good as any time.”
“I don’t want you to get upset.”
“I’m not upset. Talk.”
“I may have followed her to the bathroom at your mom’s wake. I may have told her exactly what I thought about her. And I may have made her cry.”
My eyes widened, and I stared at this man, trying to see beyond the age to the boy he once was. The boy who would defend me tooth and nail, but even still, make a woman cry. It wasn’t who he was. His grandfather, his father, his mother would never approve, and for him, that was a breaking point.
“What did you say exactly? Stop being vague. I want everything.”
He inhaled, his large chest rising and falling. He thrust his hand through his hair. “I told her I didn’t believe her act. I knew she wasn’t there to support your dad or you. She was an awful person for showing up, and she did it for her own self-importance, to prove to everyone she got the guy and to rub it in your mom’s face, even in death.” He held his hand up before I could manage a word. “I was angry. She hurt you, and she had absolutely no right to be there. I told her if she didn’t leave, I would physically remove her from the premises. She told me she was going to get your dad, and I told her if she did, I would make sure everyone, including her daughter, would always know the vile human being she was. She called me every name in the book before bursting into tears and running off.”
