Read Online Time's Divide (The Chronos Files Book 3) by Rysa Walker - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rysa Walker
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nice view of the Thames and Big Ben. A flustered-looking waiter stands behind them. I’m not sure why he’s flustered until I realize there are now five of us and the table is set for four.
Pru waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t bother. The dark-haired one is just my bodyguard. He can stand.”
Kiernan seems entirely unfazed by the comment, but her tone pisses me off.
I’m about to press the point when I find an unexpected ally in the waiter. His mouth tightens. “I’m afraid the gentleman will have to be seated if he’s to remain with you, miss. I’d be happy to pull up an extra chair if you ladies would be so kind as to move a bit toward the window.”
Mom complies immediately. Pru, on the other hand, gives the waiter a stare that makes me hope for his sake that this is one of those places where the tip is added to the check automatically.
“Fine,” she snarls, squeezing her chair a few inches to the right. I sit next to Mom, facing the entrance. Trey quickly drops into the chair the waiter placed beside me, leaving Kiernan to round out the circle.
The waiter sets another place for Trey and pours tea into the empty cups. Then he gives us a rundown of the items on the tiered tray near the center of the table—assorted pastries that look much too elaborate to eat, along with a variety of scones and delicate finger sandwiches.
When he finishes, Prudence clears her throat and purposefully taps the rim of her empty champagne flute. The waiter assures her he’ll be back with champagne momentarily and hurries off.
Mom takes a sandwich from the tray and asks me, “What took you so long?”
“Well, the elevator was slow. And then we had to find the Library, since you didn’t wait for us in the lobby.”
Pru shrugs. “I wasn’t sure how long they’d hold our reservation.” A sly grin spreads over her face. “I thought maybe you and Kiernan were just catching up on old times. Although I guess that might have been awkward with your new guy around.”
Mom chokes on her tea and gives me a questioning look. I start to respond, but Trey beats me to it.
“Perhaps,” he says in a level voice, staring directly at Pru. “But no more awkward than sitting across the table from the aunt who sneaked into her boyfriend’s bedroom.”
Pru’s eyebrows rise gradually, and she does a slow clap, her grin widening.
“Ooh, touché! After your rather . . . stoic . . . behavior that night, I’d pegged you as cute-but-boring. But it looks like Kate’s little pet has claws.” She catches Mom’s expression out of the corner of her eye as she reaches the end of the sentence. I think maybe she’d forgotten her sister was there, because some of the color drains from her face. She pastes on her too-wide smile again. “Oh, excellent. The bubbles have finally arrived.”
The fact that Pru calls champagne “bubbles” makes me want to vomit.
The waiter fills each glass in turn. Prudence’s is nearly empty before he makes his way around the table. Over his shoulder, I see the two security guards near the entrance. Tall Guy is talking to the hostess, while Short Guy watches our table, his eyes on Pru. When they shift to me, he realizes I’m staring back and quickly looks away.
I’m pretty sure I’m over the legal drinking age in Great Britain, but either Mom doesn’t know that or it doesn’t impress her.
“Could you bring her a bottle of water instead?” she asks the waiter. I shoot her a peeved look, although it’s more for show than anything else. Skipping the “bubbles” is fine with me. I need to keep a clear head.
“Hmph,” Pru says. “She’d be better off drinking the tap than bottled. You never know what’s in that stuff. No need for this to go to waste, however.” She scoops up my glass, then looks over at Mom. “Don’t get me wrong, Deb. I’m the last person who’d ever complain about extra champagne, but your puritan streak is showing again. Since when did you become so much like
Pru waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t bother. The dark-haired one is just my bodyguard. He can stand.”
Kiernan seems entirely unfazed by the comment, but her tone pisses me off.
I’m about to press the point when I find an unexpected ally in the waiter. His mouth tightens. “I’m afraid the gentleman will have to be seated if he’s to remain with you, miss. I’d be happy to pull up an extra chair if you ladies would be so kind as to move a bit toward the window.”
Mom complies immediately. Pru, on the other hand, gives the waiter a stare that makes me hope for his sake that this is one of those places where the tip is added to the check automatically.
“Fine,” she snarls, squeezing her chair a few inches to the right. I sit next to Mom, facing the entrance. Trey quickly drops into the chair the waiter placed beside me, leaving Kiernan to round out the circle.
The waiter sets another place for Trey and pours tea into the empty cups. Then he gives us a rundown of the items on the tiered tray near the center of the table—assorted pastries that look much too elaborate to eat, along with a variety of scones and delicate finger sandwiches.
When he finishes, Prudence clears her throat and purposefully taps the rim of her empty champagne flute. The waiter assures her he’ll be back with champagne momentarily and hurries off.
Mom takes a sandwich from the tray and asks me, “What took you so long?”
“Well, the elevator was slow. And then we had to find the Library, since you didn’t wait for us in the lobby.”
Pru shrugs. “I wasn’t sure how long they’d hold our reservation.” A sly grin spreads over her face. “I thought maybe you and Kiernan were just catching up on old times. Although I guess that might have been awkward with your new guy around.”
Mom chokes on her tea and gives me a questioning look. I start to respond, but Trey beats me to it.
“Perhaps,” he says in a level voice, staring directly at Pru. “But no more awkward than sitting across the table from the aunt who sneaked into her boyfriend’s bedroom.”
Pru’s eyebrows rise gradually, and she does a slow clap, her grin widening.
“Ooh, touché! After your rather . . . stoic . . . behavior that night, I’d pegged you as cute-but-boring. But it looks like Kate’s little pet has claws.” She catches Mom’s expression out of the corner of her eye as she reaches the end of the sentence. I think maybe she’d forgotten her sister was there, because some of the color drains from her face. She pastes on her too-wide smile again. “Oh, excellent. The bubbles have finally arrived.”
The fact that Pru calls champagne “bubbles” makes me want to vomit.
The waiter fills each glass in turn. Prudence’s is nearly empty before he makes his way around the table. Over his shoulder, I see the two security guards near the entrance. Tall Guy is talking to the hostess, while Short Guy watches our table, his eyes on Pru. When they shift to me, he realizes I’m staring back and quickly looks away.
I’m pretty sure I’m over the legal drinking age in Great Britain, but either Mom doesn’t know that or it doesn’t impress her.
“Could you bring her a bottle of water instead?” she asks the waiter. I shoot her a peeved look, although it’s more for show than anything else. Skipping the “bubbles” is fine with me. I need to keep a clear head.
“Hmph,” Pru says. “She’d be better off drinking the tap than bottled. You never know what’s in that stuff. No need for this to go to waste, however.” She scoops up my glass, then looks over at Mom. “Don’t get me wrong, Deb. I’m the last person who’d ever complain about extra champagne, but your puritan streak is showing again. Since when did you become so much like
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