Page 36 of Close Match
Mom tries to steer the conversation to neutral ground. “Where did you stay last night? There are so many lovely places in the area.”
Linnie lets out a low laugh that hits me right in the gut. As she tosses her hair over her shoulder, I can’t help but stare at her. God, she’s beautiful. “Funny enough, I stayed next door.” At the startled expression on my mother’s face, she laughs. “I know. That’s why I accused Monty of accosting me in the foyer. He and I rode in the elevator together from the Hamilton.”
“That’s before I tried to ask her out,” I toss out casually.
Both Ev and Mom’s eyes turn on me like I’m fifteen again and was just caught with my hands down Natalie Wells’s pants on our first date. “You didn’t,” Ev breathes.
I point a finger at him. “Don’t go there. I believe I’m the one who recommended asking Linnie for a current picture.”
“True,” Ev gives in. “But even I recognized she looks just like Elle.”
“Who was more than just a single photograph on your brain, Ev,” I counter. The waiter approaches with our drinks. After putting them down, I lift my Kentucky lemonade. “A toast, to families. Those who are with us now.” I nod to Linnie. “Those who are in our hearts always.” I smile at my mother.
“Beautifully said.” Linnie’s lips curves, showing off both of her dimples. I ignore the punch to my gut and tip my glass forward. The four of our glasses clink together in the center of the table before we all take a sip. Suddenly my mother bursts out with, “Linnie, this is delicious. I am absolutely serving this at my next event.”
The woman sitting next to me sends my mother a dazzling smile that could light up a room. “Have at it, Char. Ugh. I still need to figure out what to eat. This place is divine.”
“Tell me what you were thinking,” my mother encourages. And soon, the two most important women in Everett Parrish’s life are chatting away inconsequentially about lunch choices. I know Ev wants to break in and ask more in-depth questions, but for now, he sits back and sips his drink, reveling in the moment.
Taking my cue from a man who’s taught me so much, I decide to do the same.
Twenty-Two
Evangeline
“Tell me what working in communications is like, Linnie.” I freeze at the question my father asks me.
“I do a lot of talking.” And singing, but I keep that to myself. I hope that answer satisfies my father, who has come out of his shell during our meal. After all, I have no idea what someone who works in communications actually does.
When I panicked one night after my father asked what I did for a living, Bristol suggested I tell him I’m in communications. “After all, you do ‘vocalize’ a lot to people.” She grinned.
“True,” I’d readily agreed at the time.
By explaining that Brogan LLC was a communications firm instead of the way I pay my publicist, lawyers, agent, accountant, and her, it seemed like the perfect solution. Mom and I used to run everything through the same overhead corporation, with our own individual sub corporations to handle our separate finances. Bristol and my accountant handle everything with ease. I drag myself in tirelessly for quarterly updates where I’m assured the government is getting their healthy chunk of my earnings and the rest is being invested soundly.
“Do you have to travel a lot?” Monty asks me. Gratefully, I can answer that one honestly.
“No. There are occasional trips where I have to handle something outside of New York, but I’ve been very fortunate. I pretty much get to pick and choose my…clients.” I almost flubbed up and said roles.
“Is it going to be a lot more stress on you now that your mother is gone?” Char asks gently. I bite my lip to keep the tears from overflowing. My voice is scratchy when I answer her.
“Emotionally, it’s already been an overload of stress. I feel like there’s this huge weight on my shoulders I can’t let go of. But if you mean work? No. She picked and chose what she did at this point. There won’t be any additional workload felt by anyone.” Even though some are still grieving her loss, they’re already salivating over the opportunities Brielle Brogan’s death means.
Monty jumps into the conversation. “So, is it nine-to-five? Do you have an office?”
Thank God Bristol prepped me to answer this. “We tend to go on-site to work.” I stretch the truth so thin, you could read my next Playbill through it. “And no, my hours are not a straight forty; more often than not, I work six days a week.”
Char laughs. “You inherited that from both your parents, then.” She points at Ev. His cheeks pink. “He was a complete workaholic. Even now, if I don’t open the door to his office around mealtime, I’d never see him.”
I laugh at the imagery. “So, the adage is true but slightly modified? It’s not the way to a man’s heart, but the way to see if he exists?”
“Exactly,” she agrees.
“I’m so glad my daughter and my wife are ganging up against me. Monty, you’re still on my team, right, son?” Something catches a little inside at hearing my father call another man his son, but I dismiss it. After all, Patrick was a decent father, I guess, until he found out I wasn’t his. And I can’t blame him after my reaction. I just feel sad we were never able to reconnect since he died.
“I’m remaining neutral, Ev. Since I came back to work for you, I’ve rather enjoyed not having to cook for myself.” He smiles. His eyes crinkle at the corners, causing little flutters in my stomach the way they did when he stopped me at the hotel a few hours earlier.
“What is it you do? Did?” I correct myself. By steering the conversation away from myself, I hope to learn more about my father. Certainly, it’s not to find out more about my new stepbrother.
