50 Harbor Street - Debbie Macomber [54]
David raised his hand for the check. “I don’t believe this is any of your concern.”
Charlotte had just given him the check when Justine jerked it out of his hand. When she saw the amount and the recipient, she scowled darkly.
David stood. “Give me that,” he demanded.
Then Ben was there, storming across the dining room. What happened next was embarrassing to both Charlotte and her granddaughter. Everyone started talking at once, providing a spectacle for the entire restaurant. Before she could protest, Ben was escorting Charlotte outside, David trailing after them.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked, her cheeks red with mortification. She drew her coat—which Justine had sent after her, via one of the waitresses—more closely around her.
“Justine phoned me.”
“Oh, dear.”
“She was worried. She said David had been drinking quite a bit. I knew immediately why he asked to see you and told her to make sure you didn’t give him a check.”
“But Ben, he’s ill! He needs medical treatment.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed on his son. “It’s a lie.”
“But…”
“David, for once in your life own up to what you’ve done. Tell her the truth.”
Eyes wide, Charlotte stared at Ben’s son. After an awkward moment, David shrugged. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
Her face burned. Like they said, there was no fool like an old fool. “Oh, Ben,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “It isn’t your fault. My son is a master manipulator. He fed you a lie, the same way he’s been feeding me lies through the years. David is willing to say or do whatever it takes to get money. I’m ashamed to call him my son and even more ashamed that he’s involved you in this.”
“I feel so…so foolish.”
“Don’t.” Ben ignored his son as David walked quickly away from them. “You’re a warm, compassionate person, and he took advantage of that. Now, didn’t you say something about Christmas shopping?”
When Charlotte sniffled forlornly, he arranged her scarf around her neck, then took her hand in his.
Twenty-One
Justine Gunderson’s composure still hadn’t recovered from the unpleasant episode involving her grandmother when Warren Saget walked into the restaurant. The afternoon was going from bad to worse. The fact that she managed to greet him with a smile was a credit to her skills as hostess.
“Hello, Warren,” she said, reaching for a menu to escort him to a table. She’d dated Warren, a building contractor, for several years before marrying Seth. Warren, who was almost twenty years older than she, had pressured her to marry him. At the time, Justine was convinced she never wanted a husband or children. It had taken Seth and the love they shared to change her mind. Their three-year-old son was the joy of her life. And working with Seth to build this restaurant had been—and continued to be—immensely satisfying.
“You’re as beautiful as ever,” Warren murmured as he slid into the chair by the window. She’d given him one of the best tables in the house.
“Thank you.” She set the menu on the table.
Warren’s hand covered hers. “Stay a few minutes,” he urged.
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can,” he said. “You’re not busy now. It’s almost two-thirty—the lunch crowd is gone. We haven’t talked in months.” He lowered his voice. “You loved me once, Justine.”
She’d thought she did, but Seth had shown her the real meaning of the word. What she’d felt for Warren, she realized in retrospect, was a strange mixture of affection and pity. His ego required him to have a pretty woman on his arm at social functions, but it was all for show. Unable to perform sexually, he was tender and indulgent with her. She’d needed his kindness and for a time, the relationship had suited her perfectly. Not only that, her willingness to keep his little secret had endeared her to him. Only when Seth came into the picture and Warren felt threatened had he wanted to marry her. For a while, when admitting the depth of her feelings for Seth had proved painful and difficult, Justine had actually considered marrying Warren.
That way Seth would leave her