Page 65 of The Sweetest Surrender

Chapter Twenty

Margaret Strauss entered Frank’s Steakhouse with the prose of a confident plutocrat. On her head, Margaret’s mane hung in a conglomerate of brown and red curls. The sixty-eight-year-old woman was wrapped in a brown cardigan poncho coat with gold earrings hanging from her lobes. She scanned the restaurant with a piercing eye and paused when she’d spotted the man she was there to meet.

“Good morning,” a hostess said. “Table for one?”

“I’m meeting someone, and I’ve just found them. Thanks anyway,” she drawled.

In a catwalk strut, Margaret sashayed over to greet her guest.

“Walter,” she said as she pulled up in front of him.

Walter Strauss glanced up and slipped his menu down on the table.

“Margaret.”

Walter stood, and Margaret waited patiently as he pulled out her chair and allowed her to sit. Regardless of their pending divorce, Margaret still expected Walter to treat her like a lady. And he did.

“Are you two ready to order?” a male server asked.

“I don’t know, I may need something strong for this conversation,” Margaret said.

“Why is that? Whatever you have to say couldn’t be worse than the last time you required my attendance at dinner.”

Margaret frowned. The last time they’d had dinner she’d introduced divorce papers, and it had taken Walter by complete surprise. That was over two years ago, and Walter had been fighting Margaret on it ever since. Margaret was adamant about her reasons, but Walter evaded dinner every chance he got to keep from having this conversation, again. Only this time, Margaret hadn’t invited Walter to dinner.

“What are you talking about? You are the one who invited me.” Margaret reached into her tote and pulled out a piece of paper the size of a small square note.

Walter was disconcerted. He too pulled out a small note, and they both reached for the memos, then ran an eye down the message.

“I need you to meet me at Frank’s Steakhouse, 1 p.m. no questions and please be prompt.”

Both letters were signed with each of their Initials.

“What is the meaning of this?” Margaret scolded.

A shadow covered them both, and Margaret and Walter glanced up at the man standing before them.

“It was the only way I could get you two here without argument,” Jordan said. He snapped a button on his suit jacket closed and held his hand out to Margaret.

“I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Margaret said, delighted but intrigued in the same notion.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Walter asked.

Margaret accepted Jordan’s handshake, and Jordan slipped his hand back inside his pants pockets without offering it over to Walter.

“I’m here on behalf of your daughter.”

“She sent you here to set us up like this?” Walter asked. “Why didn’t she just come to us herself?”

Jordan’s jaw ticked. Mr. Walter Strauss clearly had an attitude, and Jordan understood since the last time they’d met he was seconds from knocking his head off. On the other side of the table, Margaret’s eyes rolled over Jordan’s staunch, tight physique. In the back of her mind, she was high-fiving her daughter for catching such a prestigious benefactor, and she couldn’t help but purse her lips and batt her eyes.

“Selena doesn’t know I’m here, and if she knew, most likely she’d try to stop this conversation. But, I care about her sanity, and you two are threatening that. It’s a simple cause and effect. Your divorce and lack of consideration of the psychological stress this is causing Selena is the reason I’m standing before you now.” Jordan waved his hand out to the side. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Shelia Bradford. She’s a family and marriage counselor.”

Dr. Shelia Bradford stepped to Jordan’s side. She was a short woman, medium build with shoulder-length gray hair, serious eyes, and round cheeks. Her attire was that of a professional: black pants suit and crème colored long-sleeved button-down blouse.

Margaret and Walter looked her up and down, half dismissing her as they glanced back at Jordan.

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