Page 96 of Suddenly Dating
“I am ready for some ribs, baby,” she said, and with a grin, picked up her purse. “I hope they have bibs.”
It was another crowded affair at the Cantrells’. The first person Lola and Harry met inside the residence was Mrs.Cantrell, who saw them from across the room and started forward, her arms outstretched. “And here we have the first Handsome Harry admirer of the night,” Lola muttered under her breath.
“Stop,” Harry warned her with a squeeze to her hand.
“Harry!” Mrs.Cantrell said, and turned her face, presenting her cheek for his kiss, as if she was his aunt. She smelled of expensive perfume and powder.
“Hello, Mrs.Cantrell.”
“Is Mallory here?” Lola asked after greeting Mrs.Cantrell.
“Oh, she’s here,” Mrs.Cantrell said, sounding perturbed. “She’s wearing denim shorts! I swear on my life I think she does it on purpose!”
Lola glanced at Harry and mouthed the words,me too.
Mrs.Cantrell gestured toward the French doors. “She’s out there somewhere.”
They headed outside where dozens of guests were soaking up the late-afternoon sun.
“There she is,” Lola said—Mallory’s frizzy hair could be seen two decks down. She waved; a moment later, Mallory was threading her way through the top deck to them.
“Hello!” she said grandly. She threw her arms around Harry and kissed his cheek, then did the same to Lola.
“I thought you said just a few people,” Lola said, looking around them.
“Albert and Lillian never do anything small,” Mallory said cheerfully.
“Is your dad here?” Lola asked.
“Yes!” Mallory lightly punched Harry in the arm. “Dude, you must really like roads, like alot.Lola has been after me to introduce you to the road king for two weeks. So let’s go meet him!”
“I’m ready,” Harry said. He put his hand on Lola’s elbow.
“You don’t need me,” she said, pulling back.
“WellIdo,” Mallory said, and linked her arm through Lola’s, then Harry’s. “This way, children,” she sang, and led them off the deck and back into the house, down a wide staircase to another level of the house. It was a rec room of sorts, and several men were gathered around a pool table.
They followed Mallory to a pair of leather chairs where a man sat alone, chewing on the end of a cigar. “Albert, meet my friends.”
“Huh?” He squinted up at her.
Harry could see who Mallory resembled—Albert Cantrell was a barrel-chested man with a mass of gray hair on top of his head that looked a bit like overgrown turf.
“This is my friend, Harry Westbrook. And my other friend, Lola Dunne.”
“Lola Dunne,” he said, refusing to take the cigar from his mouth. “You’re the one who is doing the work Mallory here is supposed to be doing for herself, is that right?”
“I’m helping her,” Lola said.
“Don’t start, Albert,” Mallory said. “Anyway, I want you to meet Harry because he really likes roads.”
“How are you, Mr.Cantrell?” Harry said, and extended his hand. “I’m a bridge builder.”
“You don’t say,” the man said. “Have a seat, Harry.” He gestured to the empty leather chair. “You like cigars?”
Harry hated cigars. “Sure,” he said.
Mr.Cantrell pointed to a box on the table between the chairs. “They’re Cuban—knock your socks off. Butkiss! Fix this man a drink!” he shouted hoarsely at a waiter.
