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I knew she was right.
“It’s not silly. Men in your position date younger women all the time.”
“And people laugh at them.”
“It’s no one’s business,” Mom said. “Again, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“I will think about it,” I said. “But I need to stay focused on this dinner tonight.”
43
RENOIR
ODETTE
Hell hath no fury like a queen who has been told that the chef’s table was double-booked. If that queen is alsopregnant, say many prayers because it will not be pretty. The day Alexandra announced her pregnancy, we stepped out for dinner at a trendy French place called Renoir. It was all about white tablecloth service without the stuffiness. I sensed the food was probably pretentious—something Rick would moan about later—but we were going out to celebrate Ingrid’s return home. It was only for a moment, but she was back momentarily.
Despite a rough couple of days, I couldn’t be too down with her around. Ingrid and I went out to buy matching outfits as soon as I collected her at the airport. We sported the same collection from a new French designer. She was in blue, I was in red. All was right in the world again. Well, until we reached the restaurant.
“Ma’am, I amsosorry, but the other party is already seated. They were here first. It does appear we double-booked them.”
Alexandra looked at Rick. He knew he needed to dosomething, but what? His hands were tied.
Parker said, “I think the correct thing to do would be to determinewho had the booking first and then let that person take over the table—regardless of who is seated.”
That was averyParker thing to say—exacting, objective, and not at all practical.
Astrid patted him on the arm as if to say, “There, there, my love. You tried.”
“It’s going to get messy,” Ingrid whispered.
“Can we justspeakwith them, maybe?” Rick asked. “Or even… share the table. Is there not enough seating? It seats a dozen people, as I recall.”
“I do not want to share,” Alexandra kept her face pretty and tone low. She wasnotpleased.
“Baby, I am doing the best I can.”
“Do not call me baby in public.”
“It just gets better and better!” Ingrid snickered.
The evening was imploding when I locked eyes with a man across the restaurant. I instantly tried to hide behind my shorter sister like a child might if they thought closing their eyes would make them invisible. Alas, it did not work. Instead, Guy Lupine approached, looking too casual for the environment buttotallyat ease. He got away with so much based on his vibe alone.
“Odette, how are you?”
If Alexandra had been cross before, she would have been livid now. Guy was the last person she wanted me to speak to. And given her pregnant rage, I was unsure if she could hold back.
“Uh. I’m fine,” I said.
Guy looked me over. “You look… impressively put together.”
It implied he was surprised I could look well put together. I hated everything about it.
“How’s your girlfriend?” Ingrid asked, out for blood.
“Oh… uh… we broke up.”
“Likely story,” she said in Danish.