Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [84]
I’d never had six messages before. Was something wrong? Had Mémé died? An unexpected wave of sadness hit me at the idea. Hitting the code for my voice mail, I glanced out the window and waited as Julian and Cambry the waiter flirted.
“You have six new messages. Message one.” My older sister’s voice came on. “Grace, it’s Margaret. Listen, kid, don’t go to Soleil tonight, okay? I’m really sorry, but I think Junie told Mom where you were going when Mom called my office this afternoon. I guess Mom’s all hell-bent for leather to meet Wyatt, and she made a reservation for tonight. With the Carsons. So don’t go there. I’ll pick up the tab somewhere else, just charge it. Call me when you get this.”
The message was left at 3:45.
Oh…my…God.
Message two. “Grace, Margs again. Mom just called me. The dinner is definitely at Soleil, so head somewhere else, okay? Call me.” That one was at 4:15.
Messages three through five were the same, I dimly noted, though Margaret’s language deteriorated as they went on. Horror rose like an icy tide. Message six was as follows. “Grace, where the hell are you? We’re leaving for the stupid restaurant right now. The Carsons, Andrew, Nat, Mom and Dad and Mémé. Call me! Our reservation is at seven.”
I looked at my watch. It was six-fifty-three.
Julian and Cambry were laughing now as Cambry wrote his phone number on a piece of paper. “Julian?” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“One sec, Grace,” said Julian. “Cambry and I—” Then he saw my expression. “What is it?”
“My family is on their way. Here,” I said.
His eyes popped. “Oh, shit.”
Cambry looked at us, confused. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
“We need to leave right away,” I said. “Immediately. Family emergency. Here.” I fumbled in my pocketbook for the gift certificate Margaret’s secretary had printed off the Internet. Dread raced through my veins. I couldn’t be found here. I couldn’t! I’d just tell the family we’d gone somewhere else. That was it. No problem.
Just as we stood up to go, I heard the horrible sound of my mother’s nervous society laugh. Ahahaha! Ahahaha! Oooh…ahahaha. I looked at Julian. “Run,” I whispered.
“We need another exit,” Julian said to Cambry.
“Through the kitchen,” he answered instantly. The two of them were off, me right on their heels, when the strap of my pocketbook snagged on the chair of a nearby diner. He looked up.
“Oopsy,” he said. “You’re caught, honey.” In more ways than one, mister. I flashed him a panicked smile and tugged. The strap didn’t come free.
Years of dance training made Julian lithe and fast as a snake. He zigged and zagged through the tables toward the busy, open kitchen, failing to notice I wasn’t with him.
“Here you go,” said the diner, sliding the strap off the back of his chair. And just as I turned to gallop after my friend, I heard my mother’s voice.
“Grace! There you are!”
My entire family walked in. Margaret, wide-eyed. Andrew and Nat, holding hands. Dad pushing Mémé’s wheelchair, followed by Mom. And the Carsons, Letitia and Ted.
My mind was perfectly blank. “Hi, guys!” I heard myself saying in that out-of-body way. “What are you doing here!”
Nat gave me a hug. “Mom insisted that we crash. Just to say hello, not to spoil your special night.” She pulled back to look at me. “I’m really sorry. I told her no a million times, but you know how she is.”
Margaret caught my eye and shrugged. Well, hell, she tried. I could feel my heart thumping in sick, rolling beats, and hysterical laughter wriggled like a trout in my stomach.
“Grace, darling! You’ve been so secretive!” Mom burbled, her eyes darting to my table, where two martinis and an order of oysters Rockefeller sat abandoned. “I told Letitia here about your wonderful doctor boyfriend, and she said she couldn’t wait to meet him, and then I had to tell her that we haven’t met him, and then I thought, well, I’ll just kill two birds with one stone. You remember the Carsons, don’t you, dear?”
Of course I remembered them. I got to within three weeks of being