Page 65 of End Game

“It’s not the worst of my attributes that could’ve rubbed off on her.” His tone turned serious. “Do I need to alert APD or Agent Blackwell about O’Connor’s visit?”

“No, he just needed to blow off some steam. Listening is part of my other duties as assigned.’”

“You’re a better person than me. It’s my opinion that rational discussion produces far better results than an excess of steam.”

“Wise, as always, my friend. Unfortunately, social media has all but obliterated ‘rational’ from our vocabulary.”

30

The moment Kayla stepped inside the lobby of the Hilton at Biltmore Park Town Square on the south side of Asheville, her phone chimed with a text.

To the right of the bar.

Nodding to the ponytailed host, she entered Fork Lore, an upscale restaurant that specialized in Southern fare and locally-sourced food. According to their website. Kayla knew nothing of the place and wondered why her mother had selected an eatery so far from their offices.

The CFO of Krowne Hotels and Resorts sat at a small table, nestled between two giant planters with towering tropical plants. After the obligatory cheek peck, Kayla took the seat across from Jillian, then bypassed the glass of red wine to reach for the ice water, already sitting in a pool of condensation.

”Sorry I’m late.” Kayla took a drink. “As you heard, the delay was unavoidable.”

“I certainly did. We’ll get to that later.” She placed her hand over Kayla’s. “Thank you for meeting with me at the last minute.”

She frowned at her mother’s bare finger. “Where’s your wedding ring?”

Jillian removed her hand. “I took it to the jeweler to have the setting checked and cleaned.”

“Didn’t you do that just a few months ago?”

“It’s been longer than a few months, darling.”

Kayla didn’t think so, but she would concede the point.

“Now, knowing your time constraints,” Jillian said, “I took the liberty of ordering you a wedge salad.”

Although she appreciated her mother’s thoughtfulness, Kayla hated the bleu cheese dressing that normally flowed over the lettuce like white, clumpy lava. Hopefully, she had instructed them to put it on the side or had chosen a substitute.

“Thank you, Mama.” She rested her forearms on the table and leaned in. “Now tell me why the clandestine location.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I thought you’d be delighted to get away from downtown.”

“Maybe for dinner, but this is the middle of a very busy workday. All of which you know and would point out if our roles were reversed.”

Jillian re-draped the linen napkin over her lap. A delaying tactic, while she no doubt grappled with how to respond.

The food arrived, buying her more time.

“Here we go, ladies.” The server set a plate down in front of Jillian. “Smoked salmon for you and,” he placed a rimmed plate before Kayla, “a wedge for you.”

Thick white dressing dripped over the sides of the quarter cut chunk of iceberg lettuce.

Great.

She imagined herself scraping off the disgusting dressing, but it had soaked into the nooks and crannies of the cut sides.

“With a ranch substitute,” he continued.

Relieved, Kayla picked up her fork and knife, suddenly starving.

“Thank you, Mark,” Jillian said. “We’re all set.”

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