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A server came in and delivered two more teacups, placing one before Vance and the other in front of me. She said nothing as she poured from the teapot at the center.
“I went ahead and preordered a tea service. I hope you like tea?”
Vance nodded and lifted the delicate cup to smell it, his motions surprisingly smooth. It was one of the times I was reminded of what a different life he’d lived. He’d grown up around people who went to things like tea service regularly.
“It smells wonderful,” Vance said. “I don’t think I’ve had good tea in a while. I miss the months I spent in China, because they had these wonderful tea ceremonies my mother would take me to when I was little.”
Pauline lit up. “It’s so nice to find a kindred spirit. I used to bring my daughters here, but when they got to their teenage years, they stopped wanting to come. I also preordered a selection of pastries and desserts. I didn’t know what you liked, so I had them pick out the bestselling ones.”
I peered down at my tea, then glanced around for sugar.
“I take it your bodyguard isn’t as used to places like this?” Pauline asked.
“I just like sweeter things,” I muttered.
She laughed then picked up a small white jar with a lid and stood, bringing it over to me. She took the lid off, then used a tiny spoon inside to scoop some of the sugar and pour it into my glass. After one look at my face, she poured another two spoonfuls in with a chuckle.
“Thanks,” I said begrudgingly, then took a sip of the now tolerable liquid.
“My husband never cared for unsweetened tea either,” she explained. “I tried for years to get him to accept it, but he never did. Eventually, I gave up and they started putting a jar of sugar in here for me in case he came by. In fact, I should be thanking you, because that was the first time I’ve gotten to add sugar for a man since my husband passed away. It was a fond memory.”
I stared at Pauline for a moment, her expression a mixture of sorrow and joy, as though recalling something precious but also aware that she would never have whatever it was back. Losing people hurt—I knew that better than most. It was one reason I worked as hard as I did at my job, to protect others, to keep people from suffering that terrible feeling.
Pauline shook her head, as though waking herself. “I am very happy to get to meet with you, to get to talk to you, but I have to admit I don’t think I’ll be able to part with the painting of yours I own. It was a gift, you see, from my late husband. He knew how much I adored your work, and he bought it for our anniversary. Sadly, he bought it months before that date, and he passed away before the date arrived. I can’t imagine ever letting it go.” She offered a shy smile. “I could have told you that before, but I didn’t want to miss out on meeting you.”
Vance said nothing at first, and I wondered where his mind had gone. He seemed startled, frozen in place, staring at Pauline. After a moment, he blinked slowly, and let out an uneasy laugh. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I haven’t really heard someone say my work mattered to them like that in a while. I’m not used to it anymore.”
“I noticed you haven’t put out any work in a long time. It was one reason I was so grateful to get a piece of my own. They’re hard to come by.” Despite her pointing out his absence, she didn’t push, didn’t ask him why.
Vance nodded, then rolled his shoulder, his expression shifting slightly. It showed he was back on track. “To be honest, I wasn’t entirely truthful either.”
And just like that, Pauline showed exactly why she was boss. She sat up straighter, her eyes losing that softness from before, sharpening like a predator waking. “Oh really? I am curious why you are here, then.” Each word she said was like a dare.
Vance didn’t wilt, though. He took out his tablet, hit the button on the side to turn on the screen, then set it on the table between us. There sat Lorien’s face—a picture from an article about the staff at the university.
Pauline’s mouth tightened. “I don’t like games. Either say what you wish to say or leave. I don’t take threats lightly.”
“This isn’t a threat,” I said.
She turned her gaze to me. “So you aren’t a bodyguard, then? Usually they don’t speak.”
“Oh, I am a bodyguard,” I said with a half-smile. “I’m just not working at the moment. That is your son.” I tapped the edge of the tablet. “Grisham Oreando, his other name being Lorien Hatchett.”
“If you know that much, you are quite foolish to be here. No one who understands his position—or mine—would make such a mistake unless they had a death wish.”
The truth was…I did have a death wish. At least, I thought I did. Sometimes, when I thought of Kenz, I wondered…
That didn’t matter at the moment, though, so I kept my mind on the point at hand.
“Do you know what he’s been up to lately?”
“What Lorien does has nothing to do with me. He is barely connected to me or my work. He lives his own life as he pleases.”
“Isn’t he the next male heir?” Vance asked.
“Yes, he is, but as he hasn’t officially taken over, he doesn’t currently lead or work with us. If you’re trying to use him against me, rest assured that won’t work.”
“This isn’t a threat, Mrs. Hatchett,” I said. “We aren’t here to threaten or trick you.”
