Page 24 of A Murderous Crow
“It was a wedding gift from my grandfather to my grandmother,” she declared. “It meant that no matter how much time he had with her, it would never be enough.”
“I take it one or both of them has since passed?”
She nodded, but remained mute, staring at the glittering watch on her wrist. Her lovely face was shuttered, her emotions hidden behind a mask of stoicism, but for the glitter of tearing in her eyes. She took a moment to look at the pressed tin ceiling in here to breathe through so they wouldn’t spill and ruin her makeup.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “I thought you had burned everything.”
“I had to be sure, but no, I simply had things cleaned. Your necklace, earrings, and bracelet are here.” I handed her the bag from the jewelry company I’d had them tended to, and she took it.
“I appreciate it, but these don’t hold a candle to the meaning of this.” She flashed her wrist at me, the candlelight glinting off the watch.
“Perhaps you might forgive me for my misstep with the drink last week.”
She nodded carefully, but I could tell she was still guarded.
“Are you allergic to anything?” I asked. “Or is there anything you dislike immensely?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not allergic to anything. As for dislikes? I can’t say I’m a particularly picky eater either, as long as it’s not bugs or insects.”
“Not a fan of escargot?” I asked with a fleeting smile.
“No.” She shook her head, and a little laugh escaped her.
“Neither am I, so you’re safe on that front.” I unfolded my napkin and placed it into my lap. “There’s no menu. I decided on a four-course meal.”
“Sounds lovely,” she said, and I smiled.
“I took a gamble on seafood,” I said, and her smile grew slightly, and she nodded.
“I do believe it paid off. I love seafood,” she said.
“Very well, I believe it will be served shortly.”
She nodded carefully and asked, “So, um…” She laughed nervously and asked, “What’s the occasion?”
“Consider this as close to an apology that you’ll get. I’m not very big on them,” I said, taking a sip of the crisp white wine in my glass.
She took up hers and took a hint of a sip and asked sardonically, “There’s nothing in this, right?”
I chuckled and said, “Just wine.”
“Okay,” she murmured, but she set the glass down and folded her hands in her lap, fidgeting slightly with them, gripping them, and twisting them slightly.
“Tonight, we’re meant to have a nice dinner, and then, if you’re amenable, we’ll take a bit of a walk back to my place. I had them take your car there and park it in my garage.”
She bowed her head and smiled, shaking her head, and I could tell it was with some displeasure.
“You really like to be in control of everything, don’t you?” she asked.
“It is one of my things, yes,” I agreed.
She took a deep, slow breath and let it out between her luscious and perfectly glossed lips and said, “That’s bound to drive me crazy.”
I chuckled and said, “I fully admit, I enjoy that aspect of things as well.”
“Ah-huh.”
It was at this point that the door opened once more, and the first course was brought to the table. She said nothing in the presence of the waiter, and I kept silent, too. While I was perfectly comfortable in the silence, I could tell she was not – that she likely held a multitude of burning questions, and I was curious if she was brazen enough to ask.
