Page 263 of The First Time
We make our way to a row of seats in the corner of the room. There's a woman sitting in the corner, nursing a glass of champagne.
She's in her forties. Or maybe her fifties. I've never been good with ages. She's thin. No, she's tiny. Like she's disappearing.
She's pretty, well-dressed with perfect hair and makeup, but there's something off about her. She's pale. Not typical New York in the winter pale. It's more like she's ill.
Color spreads over her face as she sees Blake. Her eyes light up. Her lips curl into a smile.
She looks me over. Not like everyone else. Like she's happy to see me. Like she wants me to be good enough for Blake. To be everything for Blake.
She stands slowly.
Blake rushes to help her, but he's too slow.
She shakes her head. "My son has always been very protective." She turns to me. "You must be Kat."
"Yes." I struggle to meet her gaze. She has the same intensity that Blake does, like she can read my mind. "I've heard so much about you."
"Oh, you're so sweet to lie. If I know Blake, well, I doubt you've heard much about anything."
I smile. A real smile this time.
"Call me Meryl. And, please, none of that Mrs. Sterling crap. If you insist, it's Miss. Can't have any eligible bachelors thinking I'm off the market."
I go to shake her hand, but she hugs me instead.
Her head is pressed right up against my chest. Meryl is on the shorter side, and I'm wearing towering heels under my dress.
She laughs. "Ah! I see why my son likes you."
"Mom." Blake clears his throat. For a second, he sounds like a teenager complaining that his parents are embarrassing him.
It's incredibly endearing.
She laughs. "My son. It's not his fault, but he thinks I'm too old to notice these things." She turns to Blake. "One day you'll be in your late forties. You'll still be noticing breasts."
Blake's cheeks flush. Holy crap. His momisembarrassing him. It's so normal.
Meryl shakes her head. "Dear, do you need to sit? Those heels look excruciating."
"I'll be fine. I'm on my feet all day."
"Really? What do you do?"
"I'm a waitress." I brace for a snarky comment. Meryl seems nice, but people with money, you never know if they look down on the commoners.
"Isn't it supposed to beservernowadays?" she asks.
"It's all the same, really." Though I'm not doing it anymore.
"You call shit roses, it still smells like shit." She laughs. "I used to wait tables at the nicest place in town. That's where I met the late Mr. Sterling."
"Oh?"
She nods. "You should have seen him. He dressed even better than Blake does. He was so flashy with his platinum watch. When Orson—"
"Orson, really?"
"I'm afraid so." Her smile lights up her entire face. "When he came into the restaurant, it was a commotion. All the girls wanted that table. It was the dream to marry a rich customer. Best way to get a better life. But I hated the asshole."
