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Tawny had all but forgotten about lunch with Shelley when her phone rang a few days later.
“Yes?” she answered, once she’d swiped three time in vain and finally accepted the call. “This is Tawny.”
“This is Shelley Powell.” She sounded like she looked, all business and crisp efficiency.
“Oh, Shelley! How are you?”
“Fine,” Shelley said politely. “I wondered if you’d be free for lunch today. I was thinking The Capital.”
“That sounds lovely,” Tawny said promptly, with no idea what The Capital was.
It proved to be an impressive building that was even more grand on the inside, when Damien’s on-call driver took her to the front steps. Tawny spent several moments feeling small and under-dressed, then lifted her chin and marched to the hostess.
It couldn’t be worse than the city book club.
She was ushered to a table where Shelley was already seated, talking heatedly on her phone. The hostess offered her a menu that puzzled Tawny until she realized that the numbers beside the descriptions were prices without dollar signs. Exorbitant prices. Her credit card, already stretched by frivolous book purchases and the pantsuit she could barely afford for the company dinner, would be weeping this month.
Damien had insisted she take a debit card to his account “for emergencies.”
Tawny wondered if lunch with his daughter counted as an emergency.
A server asked for her drink order as Shelley signed an apology and continued her conversation.
“Just water,” Tawny insisted. She could put the lunch on her own card if she was careful.
“I’m very sorry about that,” Shelley said as she finally concluded her call. “I swear, these subcontractors don’t even read their contracts.”
Tawny chuckled despite her nervousness. “I think your father said that exact thing earlier today.”
Shelley looked at her without laughing. “So what is it you do, Tawny?” she asked conversationally.
“Happily retired,” Tawny said cheerfully. “But I was the mail carrier for Green Valley until last month.”
Shelley looked rather confused as the server returned with their drinks.
“Just water” turned out to be something bottled in glass, and Tawny wondered wryly what it was going to cost as the server poured a glass of wine for Shelley.
They chatted awkwardly about how Tawny was enjoying the city so far, and Tawny tried to stay friendly and cheerful, without betraying how nervous she felt, or how intimidated she felt by Shelley’s effortless elegance. She wanted to Shelley to like her, and was sincere about her desire to help Damien reconnect with her.
“You’re really not what I expected,” Shelley said, once their food order had been taken. She didn’t comment on Tawny’s selection of the cheapest option on the menu.
Tawny chuckled, not sure how to take that. “I didn’t ever expect to eat lunch in a place like this,” she confessed. “And if you had told me earlier this spring that I would be dating someone like your father, I would have laughed you out of town.”
“You aren’t his usual type,” Shelley agreed, chilly in tone, but thoughtful in expression.
Tawny couldn’t quite hide her wince. It shouldn’t surprise her that he had a type. A younger type, if she had to guess; Damien would not look out of place with supermodel arm candy. There were several tables nearby with men who looked older than he was making eyes at dates half her age. And after all, she hadn’t even known about Shelley and her mother until just more than a week ago. She should have know that he would have other women as well. Had he been married more than twice? What did she really know about him?
“Well,” she said, not sure how else to respond. “Maybe his usual type wasn’t cutting it anymore.”
Shelley nearly choked in her wine trying not to laugh, and Tawny caught just a glimpse of a real smile cross her face.
“I’m not a gold-digger, if that’s what you were worried about,” Tawny said frankly. “I’ve spent more time trying to get him not to buy me things than anything else. In case it was your inheritance you were concerned for.”
She wondered, after she said it, if it didn’t cross the line between funny and rude.
But Shelley genuinely laughed then. “I don’t need Dad’s money,” she said earnestly. “And I don’t want it any more than you do.”
Their food was served then, tiny portions on giant scarlet square plates drizzled with multi-colored sauces.
“I think that if something is listed in the menu description, they should serve you more than one eyedropper full of it,” Tawny observed skeptically. Then she took a curious bite. “Oh, wow.”
Conversation as they ate found an easy rhythm. They started by talking about their favorite foods, which led Tawny to talk lovingly about her garden and the joy of fresh vegetables, which led to comparing hobbies. Shelley apparently loved designing clothing and from there, they began discussing books, a topic that Tawny could wax passionate about for hours.
Shelley insisted on ordering dessert for both of them, and did so without requesting a menu, so Tawny was nervous about how much it might cost. She might have to use Damien’s debit card after all.
“Your dad...” she started to say, just as Shelley began, “My dad...”
They laughed. “You go first,” Shelley said firmly.
“Your dad has been mending fences with Shaun since he came to Green Valley and started getting to know Trevor, and I think he’d really like to do the same with you.”
“Well, if he’s expecting kids, he can get over that,” Shelley said, Damien’s scowl familiar on her face. “I can’t stand them.”
“No,” Tawny said hastily. “I don’t think he’s angling for more grandchildren... he just wants something more like a family than a collection of strangers and coworkers that share blood.”
Shelley shook her head thoughtfully. “You know, as much as dad hates Green Valley, it sure has stuck to him.”
Tawny felt like her chair had been pulled out from underneath her. “He hates Green Valley.”
“Everything about it,” Shelley told her. “He said it had no culture and smelled like cows.”
Tawny wished she had Damien’s gift for hiding her expressions, and was glad when Shelley’s phone rang.
“I’m sorry Tawny, I have to take this,” she said.
Tawny hadn’t wanted to admit how much she was hoping that their visit to the city was just that—a visit.
She missed her town. She missed the tiny stores and the nosy neighbors. She was hurt to think he thought it had no culture, even if she had to admit he was right, and she ached to think about leaving it forever.
Homesickness turned the rich dessert to ash in her mouth, and Tawny had to take a long sip of the undoubtedly-expensive water to wash it down.
Shelley hung up. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “This is a three billion dollar contract and I needed to talk to our lawyers about some of the wording before it went out for signatures.”
Tawny smiled at her brightly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said.
“What were we talking about?”
“Your father,” Tawny said. The thought of him steadied her. The way he frowned when he wanted to mask his emotions. The way he lowered his defenses with her and the way he looked when he said he loved her. His shoulders, and his big hands, and the beard she had once thought she hated.
“You’re not really happy here, are you,” Shelley guessed. “Even though you like my dad.”
“I don’t want to complain,” Tawny said faintly.
“It’s not complaining to be honest about what you want.”
Tawny couldn’t answer. To be honest, she wanted to go home.