The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [35]
She sipped her water, wishing it were Scotch. The waiter smiled at her again from across the restaurant, one of those sympathy smiles that said, “I’m sorry you’ve been stood up.” She decided if her mother didn’t show, she’d order bacon, scrambled eggs and toast with a tumbler of Scotch instead of orange juice.
She refolded her napkin for the third time when all she wanted to do was dig the exhaustion from her eyes. She had only gotten about two hours of sleep, fighting images of Delaney’s head exploding over and over again. God, she hated funerals! Even Abby’s innocent acceptance of her father’s death hadn’t stopped Maggie’s memories from leaking into and invading her sleep. The nightmare that finally convinced her to stay awake was one of herself, tossing handful after handful of dirt into a dark hole. The process seemed endless and exhausting. When she finally looked over the edge, she saw the dirt quickly turning to maggots scattering and crawling across her father’s face, his wide eyes staring up at her. And he was wearing that stupid brown suit with his hair still combed the wrong way.
Maggie blinked and shook her head, willing the image out of her mind. She looked for the waiter. There was no sense in putting off the Scotch. Just then she saw her mother come in the restaurant door. At first, Maggie glanced right by her, not recognizing the attractive brunette dressed in a navy coatdress and bright red scarf. The woman waved at Maggie, and Maggie did a double take. Her mother usually wore absurd combinations that confirmed how little she cared about her appearance. But the woman approaching the table looked like a sophisticated socialite.
“Hi, sweetie,” the imposter said in a sugary tone that Maggie also didn’t recognize, though there was a familiar raspiness, a leftover from a two-pack-a-day habit. “You should see my room,” she added with an enthusiasm that continued the charade. “It’s huge! Reverend Everett was so kind to let us stay here last night. He’s just been so good to Emily, Stephen and me.”
Maggie barely managed to utter a stunned greeting before her mother sat down and the waiter was at their table.
“Would you ladies like to start off the morning with some juice and coffee or perhaps a mamosa?”
“The water’s fine for now,” Maggie said, watching her mother, waiting to see if she would take the waiter up on his invitation to drink before noon. Time of day had never stopped her in the past.
“Is this tap water?” Kathleen O’Dell pointed to the glass in front of her.
“I think so. I guess I’m not sure.”
“Could you please fetch me a bottled water? Spring water from Colorado would be good.”
“Colorado?”
“Yes, well…bottled spring water. Preferably from Colorado.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see what I can do.”
She waited until the waiter was out of sight, then she leaned across the table and whispered to Maggie, “They put all kinds of chemicals in tap water. Nasty stuff that causes cancer.”
“They?”
“The government.”
“Mom, I am the government.”
“Of course you’re not, sweetie.” She sat back and smiled, smoothing the cloth napkin into her lap.
“Mom, the FBI is a government agency.”
“But you don’t think like them, Maggie. You’re not part of…” She lowered her voice and whispered, “The conspiracy.”
“Here you are, ma’am.” The waiter presented a beautiful, crystal stemmed water glass filled to the brim and garnished with a wedge of lemon. His efforts were only met with a frown.
“Oh, now, how do I know this is bottled spring water if you bring it to me already in a glass?”
He looked at Maggie as if for help. Instead, she said, “Could you bring me a Scotch? Neat.”
“Of course. One Scotch, neat, and one bottled spring water in the bottle.”
“Preferably