Page 22 of Say Yes to the Death

Clang. The spatula wobbled on the tile. Particles of sauce and bacon streaked across the white cabinets.

What in the actual hell?

Luke opened his mouth to speak, eyebrows already drawn together, but Claire grabbed his wrist. He picked up a dish towel and wiped at the sauce on the cabinets.

“It’s Claire, actually. I’m sure Luke mentioned that,” Claire said coolly, picking up the spatula and washing it in the sink. The shock was starting to recede, but she still felt as though she had been blindsided by an avalanche. Was this how she treated all of Luke’s girlfriends?

“Right. Claire. Such an old-fashioned name. Must have slipped my mind,” Rachel said, but she didn’t sound sorry. It sounded like a calculated move, but Claire wasn’t about to bite.

“I would love a glass of wine, by the way,” Rachel continued smoothly, as though she hadn’t just brought up the taboo topic of the evening. She sat carefully on one of the bar stools and neatly crossed her ankles. Her nude pumps didn’t have a single scuff mark. “Just the one, though. I have a lot of preparing to do for the work week after dinner. What’s the first course?”

Of course she would assume there were multiple courses. Good thing Claire had gone the extra mile. “Bacon-wrapped scallops,” Luke said. Claire had emailed him the menu the day before.

Claire took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Maybe Rachel just wanted to address the elephant in the room and get it out of the way. “I recommend the Sancerre,” she said, parroting what she had studiously read on the internet earlier. She drew a bottle from the wine fridge and handed it to Luke.

“Hmm. Sancerre. Is that your favorite wine, Claire? Maybe the kind you were drinking the night of your alleged kidnapping?” Rachel pried, drumming her manicured nails on the countertop.

“Mom, what the hell?” Luke slammed the bottle on the counter.

Claire stared at her blankly. Apparently, this interrogation was not going away. “You know, I don’t remember what wine there was at the party. It probably has something to do with me getting chloroformed halfway through.”

“Regardless,” Rachel said, sliding her empty wine glass toward Luke, “with the addition of bacon, I should think a dry rosé would be more appropriate. Do you have anything like that, Lucas?”

Claire’s hands went numb.

“I think I have a bottle of rosé in the wine cellar. Let me look.” He slid the Sancerre back into the wine fridge. He disappeared down the basement stairs, closely followed by Rosie. Great, he had left her alone with the enemy.

Claire turned back to face the oven so Rachel couldn’t see her rolling her eyes. Not only did she mention the kidnapping twice, she second-guessed her hostess on the wine selection. What a contemptible, tactless twatwaffle. Rachel’s gaze penetrated the back of her neck, but she wasn’t about to turn around.

Luke came back with a bottle of rosé and, for some reason, his toolbox. He poured three glasses of wine, passing one to his mother and one to Claire. He left his on the counter and flipped open the top of the toolbox. He pulled out a screwdriver and began tinkering with the basement doorknob.

“Delightful,” Rachel said, sampling the rosé. “So, Claire. We were discussing your abduction.”

“Mom,” Luke said with a warning in his voice.

Claire, who had begun plating the bacon-wrapped scallops, dropped the frying pan onto a trivet with a bang. Her hands shook. Emotions she had been unwilling to acknowledge for the past week were bubbling to the surface. An eruption was coming, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

She slammed an appetizer plate and a fork in front of their guest. If she was irredeemable in Rachel’s eyes, there was no reason to hold back. She pressed both of her hands to the granite countertop and made direct eye contact with Rachel.

“You know, Rachel, you didn’t strike me as the type to play the pretend-to-accidentally-forget-your-son’s-girlfriend’s-name-in-order-to-undermine-and-demean-her card. I definitely didn’t have you pegged as someone to play the ask-your-son’s-girlfriend-about-the-most-traumatic-thing-to-ever-happen-to-her-while-she’s-making-me-a-five-course-dinner card. I understand that you caught me in an awkward situation yesterday, and maybe you’re upset with Luke for not telling you he was seeing someone.”

She gestured at Luke. He was frozen, holding the latch assembly for the door in one hand.

“Maybe you even think I’m a worthless idiot because my career is devoted to making people happy. The truth is, I don’t care what you think of me. I was stalked and hunted, abducted and tortured. I stared into the eyes of the West Haven Widowmaker as he carved into my flesh with a hunting knife.” She dragged her blouse to the side, revealing the bandage.

There was a flicker of something in Rachel’s eyes. Was it sympathy? No, she was probably suppressing a fart. Ice Queens didn’t audibly fart.

“This whole mean girl routine has probably served you well in the courtroom over the years,” Claire continued, waving her hand in a circle, “but let me assure you, I am not afraid of you. So, I would appreciate if you could cut the bullshit. Now please eat your scallops, they’re getting cold.”

There was a ringing silence, like the aftermath of an explosion. Claire maintained steady eye contact until Rachel picked up her fork and nodded.

“Fair enough,” Rachel said, and speared a scallop. She popped it into her mouth. “These are adequate.”

“Thank you,” Claire said, pulling bowls from the cabinet with more force than was necessary. Alice would have been horrified at her outbursts. It was a good thing her mother was in Florida and wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow morning. Crap, she needed to leave early enough to pick her up from the airport. She made a mental note and moved on.

Luke came to stand by Claire’s side. He put one hand on the small of her back. Maybe she was imagining it, but his breath seemed shaky. “Claire’s been through more than most people go through in their entire life. If you can’t find another topic of conversation and show her some basic respect, you need you to leave now.”

Rachel set her fork down. “Now, Lucas?—”

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