Page 27 of Finding Amanda

"Mark told you?"

"He told Chris," Jamie said. "Friday night. They were on the phone for a long time. He was really worried about you."

"What do you already know?"

"I guess I know what Mark knows. You ran into that guy you wrote about in your book?"

Amanda nodded slowly. "Dr. Gabriel Sheppard."

"Okay. So tell me everything." Jamie propped her elbows on the table.

Amanda's stomach rolled. Was it the coffee on an empty stomach? Or the memories? The white-haired waitress appeared, took their orders, and rushed away, leaving Amanda with no excuse. Yes, she wanted Jamie to know what happened in New York. She just didn't want to relive it.

With a sigh, she recounted her run-in with Gabriel, trying to keep her voice steady and her emotions at bay.

Jamie sipped her coffee and murmured an occasional, "Uh-huh," and, "No way," studying her with wise eyes over the rim of her cup.

"The weirdest part was when he asked me about the memoir."

"How did he know?"

"I'm not sure." Amanda set her coffee on the table. "Sometimes I think he was just fishing for information, but at the time . . ." Amanda shrugged. At the time she'd believed Gabriel knew everything. Was she trying to convince herself differently? "Anyway, Mark doesn't see it that way."

"What does that mean, though? If he knows, will you hold off, not publish it?"

"Why should I? I always knew there was a chance he'd find out about it. But it's not like I name him in the book."

"Right, but anybody who knows you from those days?—"

"And knows who my psychiatrist was—believe me, the list isn't that long."

"Still, he has to feel threatened, knowing you're trying to publish a book that exposes his secrets."

"Even if he somehow heard I'd written a memoir, how would he know what was in it? And even then, that's not my problem. If Gabriel has a problem with it . . . Well, I guess he should have thought of that before."

A familiar voice broke into their conversation. "Mrs. Johnson?"

A beautiful young woman approached their table. She wore her dirty-blond hair in a messy bun. A once-white apron hung over her sweatshirt and blue jeans. Amanda blinked. "Brittany?"

A wide smile crossed the girl's face. "I thought that was you. It's so good to see you."

Amanda stood and hugged her. "What happened to you? They said you got a place of your own. I was hoping you'd come back to class."

"I couldn't." Brittany's smile widened further. "I got a job! I'm working here now, full-time, thanks to you."

"Me? No."

"Yes. I told them I'd taken lessons with you, even showed them the cookbook you signed for me, and they gave me a chance. I cooked them that yummy chicken and dumplings you taught me to make, and voila! They hired me."

Amanda hugged the girl again. "I'm so proud of you. And you have an apartment?"

"Yup. And a roommate, so I can save some money. And guess what? I'm starting college in January. Just part-time, but it's something. I took your advice and applied for financial aid, and they're giving it to me."

The white-haired waitress approached and stage-whispered into Brittany's ear, eyeing the kitchen door. "You'd better get back there. They're looking for you."

Brittany's glance darted to the kitchen. "I gotta go. It was so great to see you." Brittany squeezed Amanda's hand. "Thanks again."

Amanda slid back into the booth. "I should've introduced you. Sorry."

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