Page 12 of Second to None
“I’m sorry.” Max’s deep cello of a voice pulled her back to the present. “That was the wrong question, too.”
“No. I just got tangled up in some of the dark parts of the past. It still happens, but not as often.” She tried to make a wry face and hoped she pulled it off. “After Jake died, Aunt Ruthie called me up and invited Izzy and me to come live with her. She’s not really my aunt, but we always called her that because she was my mother’s best friend. She used to visit us, bringing a whiff of big-city glamour and the coolest gifts with her. I adored her. Her health had declined, so she needed some help, and I wanted to—” She looked at the man across from her who had just handed her $1million and decided to go with honesty. “I wanted to get away from a place that reminded me of what I’d lost.”
Max nodded. “Understandable.”
“Aunt Ruthie thought I’d be perfect for the Carver Center job. She was a singer and had moved to South Harlem when she fell in love with a saxophonist who lived there. They broke up, but she stayed for the rest of her life. She knows ... knew everyone, so she pulled a few strings.”
She was surprised to see the angles of Max’s face ease into a look of sympathy. “Knew, past tense?”
She nodded. “About a year after Izzy and I arrived, she passed away. It was quick, which is what she wanted.” But it had left her alone once again. Emily swallowed the tears that threatened to clog her throat. “She had no blood relatives, so she left me her house in her will, which is why I can afford to continue to work at the center.”
Ruthie had left her a small amount of money, too, which combined with Jake’s insurance policy had become Izzy’s college fund. Another reason she could stay at the center.
“The center is not just your job. It’s your passion,” Max said.
“It’s my family, my community,” Emily said. Her safety net. Without all the connections she had made through the center, Aunt Ruthie’s death would have toppled her back into that chasm of lonely terror Jake’s death had plunged her into.
Two waiters set down huge plates decorated with gray-and-white geometric patterns. In the center of each plate was a depression that held small oysters in a creamy sauce garnished with black caviar. When Max had ordered for both of them, he’d said this was the restaurant’s signature dish. Their food’s arrival reminded Emily that she should pay attention to her surroundings, since she would never be able to afford to eat here on her own. As Max assured the waiter that all was well, she scanned the restaurant with interest.
The room they sat in was understated in its decor, all taupes and grays and creams and soft surfaces, but the considerable space between the tables indicated just how expensive the food was. No packing in the guests for maximum volume. The fork she’d been toying with when Max hit her with his bombshell announcement was substantial in weight, with sleek modern lines that screamed “exclusive.”
Turning her focus back to the food, Emily picked up the mother-of-pearl spoon they’d brought with the appetizer and scooped up an oyster, lifting it to her mouth. The beads of caviar exploded with brine, contrasting with the rich sauce and the slide of the mollusk. “Mmm,” she hummed as she let the flavors and textures delight her palate. Now she understood why Max said he was a regular patron.
“I’ve considered ordering a dinner-size portion of this dish,” Max said with a quirk of his lips. “But I think it’s better to leave yourself always wanting more.”
“As long as you feel satisfied with what you had.” She felt a blush creep up her cheeks at the sense that they could be talking about something other than food. “It’s your turn. How did you end up in New York?”
He took a bite of oysters and caviar and chewed meditatively before putting his fancy little spoon down. “The work I did with Jake got a lot of attention from the top brass in the military, which led to the offer of significant contracts. I looked around for a company that could produce the polymers I was developing, but couldn’t find one that suited my requirements. So I started my own. The chemist I wanted to head up production lived in New Jersey.” Max shrugged. “I’d always wanted to try out living in New York, so it was a good match.”
“I hear you’ve sold V-Chem Industries. Why?” She almost forgot to eat the delicious appetizer as she watched some emotion she couldn’t interpret flicker across Max’s face.
“I have some new ideas I want to pursue.” He met her gaze. “Being a CEO doesn’t leave a lot of time for research.”
“So you prefer research to management?”
That flicker again. “I hope so.”
She couldn’t believe he was having second thoughts about a sale that would make him wildly rich and give him the freedom to pursue what he did best. “Do you regret selling the company?”
Some of her incredulity must have crept into her voice, because he smiled and shook his head. “Not at all. It was time. There are just certain aspects of the deal that I’m rethinking.”
That level of deal making was over her head, so she nodded and went back to her oysters, which were nearly gone. She sighed as she took the last bite.
The servers whisked away their empty plates and placed new ones in front of them, along with clean flatware, explaining that this was lamb with various gourmet sides and sauces. The food looked like a beautiful still life, but the warm, lightly spiced aroma made her pick up the clean fork in order to ruin the exquisite arrangement.
The waiter also removed the glass of white wine that she’d only sipped and poured red wine into a huge balloon glass after Max had sampled it.
“You’re wasting all this wine on me,” she said, taking a taste of the red. “It’s delicious, but I just can’t drink that much.”
“It’s a long way from a six-pack of Heineken,” Max said, reminding her of what the three of them usually drank with their dinners at Camp Lejeune. “However, the chef would refuse to serve me ever again if we drank white wine with lamb.”
“You live a very different life from mine,” she said.
He frowned.
“I didn’t mean that as a criticism. I knew you when, so I understand that you’ve earned every bit of your success.” She reached across the table to touch the back of his hand in an effort to undo whatever offense she might have given.
She’d forgotten how electric any contact with him was, but she forced herself not to jerk away when she felt the current of desire sizzle over her skin.
