Page 69 of When We Were Enemies
“Is that him?” she mouths, eyebrows raised, argument forgotten momentarily. I don’t have the emotional energy to respond. Instead, I greet the approaching clergyman.
“Father Patrick,” I say, embarrassed at the scene he walked into but also grateful for the distraction. Mom strips off her coat, slides back into the booth, and puts her official persona on, smooth as her silk pants.
“Hey! Back in the office, I see,” Father Patrick says, referencing the clutter on the table. He’s seen me in here a few times already. His occasional visits aren’t my reason for working at Big Red’s Place, but I do like knowing I might happen to run into a friendly face here.
“Yeah, turns out you gotta work to make money. Go figure,” I kid, and he laughs at my bad joke.
My mom clears her throat and rubs her lips together like she taught me to do when you don’t have lipstick handy but need a fresh look.I see what you’re doing, Mom.
“Oh, sorry. This is my mother—Gracelyn Branson, movie star extraordinaire. Mom, this is Father Patrick, priest extraordinaire. Father, Mom. Mom, Father.”
“So honored to meet you.” Father Patrick seems to find the wordplay entertaining. He shakes my mom’s outstretched hand, and she bats her eyes.
“Thank you. You’re too kind.”
“Not at all. I feel like I already know you a little. Elise is an extraordinary young woman.”
“That she is,” Mom says with a proud though forced glance in my direction. I return her insincere look with a closed-lip smile. She opens another packet of low-calorie sweetener and mixes it into her tea.
“Won’t you join us for a spell? We’ll be heading out as soon as Mac finishes his shot list for the day, which won’t be long. I’d love to get to know you better.” She sips her drink and wrinkles her nose like she’s added too much lemon.
“Gosh, I normally would, but I’m actually grabbing dinner for Mrs.Lee. She’s laid out with a broken arm. I thought some soup might help brighten her spirits.”
“Got your order, Father,” Kaylee says, standing behind the counter with a brown paper bag. I swear my mom tries to check out his ass as he retrieves the order.
“Isn’t that the sweetest thing?” she says to both of us, but I’m the only one to see her wink and wiggle her eyebrows.
“Pre-Cana? Tomorrow?” he asks, riffling through bills in his wallet.
“Put that money away; we got it,” Mom orders him even though she doesn’t carry cash, never has. Usually, she has an assistant or someone nearby who keeps enough cash on hand for these moments. But Mom came without her assistants this time, so I guess that leaves the role of assistant to me.
“Add it to our bill,” I reaffirm Mom’s offer to Kaylee and then address Father Patrick’s question. “Yeah, Pre-Cana tomorrow. Just you, me, and the entire film crew.”
“And Hunter is Zooming in?” Mom asks. She’s watching me, assessing me, seeing if she can stir up a little intrigue. I won’t fall into her trap that easily.
“Yup, Hunter too,” I say with a touch too much gusto.
Saying Hunter’s name brings up inconsistent emotions. I can’t wait to see his face, even through Zoom. We made up almost instantly after our disagreement, and we’ve spoken every day since. I want him close. Damn it—I need him close.
But I’m also nervous to have Hunter in the same room with Father Patrick, even virtually. It’s nothing truly, this closeness we have. But will Hunter sense it? Will it make him jealous? Will it scare him away?
“That’ll be nice. I know he misses you terribly,” my mom says with extra emphasis.
“I miss him too.” This is all a test—I can feel it. And it’s even more uncomfortable being tested in front of Father Patrick.
I discreetly adjust the ring on my left hand.
“He’s coming this weekend, right?” she asks, and then watches Father Patrick like she thinks he might be jealous.
“He is,” I say simply, refusing to feed the beast.
“Won’t that be nice? You’ll have to make up for lost time. Take a trip to Louisville? I heard it’s not that far away. Little pre-honeymoon honeymoon?”
“Maybe.” Then, to spare us all, I gesture at Father Patrick. “Don’t let us keep you. I’m sure Mrs.Lee likes her soup warm.”
“Ha ha. Yes. Absolutely.” He lifts the bag and backs away, a strange far-off expression on his face. “Thanks again for your charity. I’ll make sure to pass on your well-wishes,” he adds, sounding very priestly.
My mother says a majestic farewell and then looks at me with wide eyes once the door dings at his exit.
