Page 65 of Caper Crush
“That would be amazing.”
I hold the glasses while Max loads up two plates for us. We retreat with our appetizer hauls to two chairs against the wall and happily eat.
“How’d you know your mom was going to skip the preliminaries?” Max asks.
“My mom has always liked having a man in her life. And given that my career has stalled, she’s focusing on the man aspect,” I say. “You’re her favorite of the candidates.”
“Your mom has good taste,” Max says.
“Don’t take it too personally. You’re up against Rex and Peter and her fear that I’ll marry another artist.”
“You do know how to damage a guy’s ego,” Max says. “Wanted for my law degree.”
“Aw. I also like your cooking.” I sip my wine.
“Maybe I’ll poison you this time,” Max says. “Annabelle came with Edmund. Doesn’t David get annoyed by Edmund always hanging around?”
“David and Annabelle are divorcing.”
“They are? Surprising.”
“Isn’t it? I’m shocked. And a bit sad. David is a good guy. And I thought Annabelle liked being married to him. It must have been pretty bad.”
“I don’t know,” Max says. “I can see her cutting her losses quickly. You’re more of the type to try to hold on.”
“Maybe,” I say. “I should find her and say hello.” We’ve both finished our plates of food.
“Any suspects so far?” Max asks.
“Three, one of whom is Annabelle,” I say slowly. My sister is across the room, dressed in her usual black pantsuit, typing on her phone. “But she couldn’t have done it.”
“You sound like you have your doubts.”
“Not in my heart.” I look at Max. “But if I separate myself from my emotions and look at it logically, she did leave with two paintings. We haven’t been close for a while now.”
“If you look at it logically, stealing your paintings doesn’t benefit her at all,” Max says. “Let’s say hello. I’ll give you my take.” We hand our empty plates to a server returning to the kitchen.
“Yes, let’s. Then we can reward ourselves with the dessert table.”
“The desserts look good,” Max says. “I checked them out when I arrived.”
“Do your law partners know that you have the soul of a five-year-old?”
“No, so don’t tell them,” Max says. “Maybe you could have made it as a law partner.”
“I’m not as good at hiding my inner five-year-old,” I say.
As we walk over to say hello to Annabelle, Max gets waylaid by some of his parents’ friends. I continue on and sit next to Annabelle, who mutters that she’s finishing a work email as she types on her telephone.
“Quite the grand entrance,” Annabelle says.
“If there’s one thing John and Mom taught me, it’s to make your entrance count.”
Annabelle snorts—elegantly. “You need to stop defining yourself by them.”
“I don’t.”
Annabelle shakes her head.
