Page 74 of Meant to Be

For some reason, the wording of her simple question flustered me, and I stumbled over my reply. “I’m well, thank you…. It’s so nice to meet you…both of you,” I said, shifting my gaze to Berry.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Dottie said in a tone that went along with her handshake. Not quite aloof, but close. Her oversize glasses were dark, covering much of her face, but I could still make out her chiseled cheekbones, which Joe had inherited. Like the estate itself, she was more striking in person and almost formidable, despite her small stature.

“Yes,” Berry said in a cheerful voice, stepping forward to give me a quick hug. “We’ve heardsomuch about you, Cate.”

“Likewise,” I said, a word I don’t think I’d ever used before. “Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Kingsley. Your home is solovely.” It was another word I seldom used.

Dottie nodded in response, as if I’d just stated a fact rather than given her a compliment, then said, “We’re so pleased you could come for a visit…. Shall we go in? Are you hungry after your drive?”

What was the polite answer—yes or no? Fortunately, Joe chimed in for us, announcing that he was starving.

As we all made our way back into the house, I braced myself for a formal brunch served in the dining room on a table set with silver and crystal. I was both surprised and relieved to find that we were eating on a farmhouse table just off the kitchen, with simple place settings and some baked goods, fruit, and a pitcher of orange juice that looked freshly squeezed.

“There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen,” Berry said.

“And I can put the kettle on if you prefer tea?” Dottie said, looking at me.

I politely declined both as we all went to the table, sat down, and began serving ourselves. No one spoke for an awkward moment. Then Dottie turned to me and smiled.

“So, Cate, Joe tells us you grew up in Montclair?” she said, using her fork, European style, to pierce a strawberry half.

“Yes,” I said.

“That’s a lovely town,” she said. “Do your parents still live there?”

“Yes,” I said. “Well, my mother and stepfather.”

“I see,” she said. “And your father?”

“He actually passed away when I was quite young.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Dottie said, cutting her eyes to her son as if to say he should have warned her.

“Thank you,” I said, looking down, wondering if I should acknowledge her loss as well. Or Berry’s, for that matter, as Joe had told me that she’d lost both of her parents in a plane crash. But I decided that it was better to move on from the gruesome accidents that united us.

Apparently, Berry felt the same because she quickly changed the subject. “Joe tells us that you work in fashion,” she said as she spread cream cheese on her bagel half.

It was more of a statement than a question, but I answered it anyway. “Yes,” I said, nodding. “I do.”

“I’m sorry—I forgot the designer’s name?” she said.

“Wilbur Swift,” I said.

“That’s right. Sorry. I’m clueless about fashion—much to Dottie’s horror.”

“Oh, Berry,” Dottie said, shaking her head. “You know that’s not true.”

“That I’m clueless or that you’re horrified?” Berry said with a laugh.

“Neither is true!…Now,Joeis another story,” Dottie said.

“Heey, now! I resent that!” Joe said, pretending to be offended, but looking oddly proud of himself.

Dottie ignored him and looked at me. “Cate, I do hope you’ll be able to assist him on that front.”

“I’m trying, Mrs. Kingsley,” I said, playing along.

Joe laughed and accused us of being jealous of his style.

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