you call, Dad?”
“Well, I just wanted to check in with you, and say that I didn’t like the way our conversation went yesterday. You seemed upset that I wasn’t coming.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Are you sure? You sounded disappointed and I was worried. If it means that much to you, I could come.”
“No,” Ari said abruptly, thinking of the likely activities that would take place at Hideaway. “Really, Dad. It’s okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Look, just send me whatever you want to get me, and I’ll call you next week after I get it. Okay?”
There was a long pause. “Well, I’ll think about it some more. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“ ’Bye, Dad.” Ari clicked the phone shut and frowned. She felt out of sorts and couldn’t decide if she was upset, sad, disappointed—or ashamed.
She glanced down at the headstones and realized that she was uncomfortable standing in front of her mother’s grave while she tormented her father. Despite their divorce, her mother would never approve.
“Sorry,” she whispered and quickly walked back to the SUV. She climbed in and leaned against the headrest. She closed her eyes and pushed the feelings away, certain that when she left the cemetery she would no longer be wrapped in the cloak of her family, which up until a few minutes ago had been pleasurable and soothing.
When she reached Smiley’s, she knew she was early and the brunch crowd had not yet claimed the best tables around the large picture windows. She found her favorite one, away from the kitchen and the front door. She ordered an iced tea and looked over her shoulder to find a young woman staring at her from the bar. The woman nodded at the bartender and slid off the stool, heading toward her. She dropped into the opposite chair, placing a messenger bag on the floor beside her. Ari smiled at a soft butch with close-cropped brown hair. She found her attractive but not in a noticeable way. She would easily blend into a crowd and never turn heads. Ari guessed she had not turned thirty, and she was blessed with youthful features. She wore a tight, black Led Zepplin concert T-shirt tucked into her jeans, and she noticed a tattoo on the inside of her forearm, a Chinese symbol. Her overall effect telegraphed danger, but Ari guessed such a judgment would be inaccurate. Her intensity was palpable, and she made no effort to immediately introduce herself, quite comfortable violating standing rules of etiquette.
The silence drove Ari into action, fostered by her good manners and the refined conversation skills that came from years in real estate. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Biz Stone. I believe we’re both here to meet Jane.” Instead of her hand, Biz reached into her back pocket and offered her a business card.
Ari read the simple black print,
Elizabeth Stone, Private Investigator
, a local phone number listed beneath her name. “Biz,” she repeated. “That’s a very unique nickname.”
She smiled pleasantly and studied the silverware. “And a long story.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone asks me that question, but I only tell the story to people who earn my trust, and considering we’ve just met . . .” Her voice faded out, Biz apparently not feeling the need or interest to complete an obvious thought.
“Of course.”
“I’ve seen you at Hideaway, and I know Molly, too,” she added quickly.
Ari nodded in recognition. She’d just never put Biz’s name together with the face, but she was always surrounded by several voluptuous femmes at the bar. “Yes, I knew you looked familiar, but I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced.”
“No, we’ve never met officially, but I’ve seen you. You’re not easy to forget.”
The comment surprised Ari, but before she could respond, Jane waltzed up to the table. “Hello, hello.” She immediately proffered her hand to Biz, who stood to
“Well, I just wanted to check in with you, and say that I didn’t like the way our conversation went yesterday. You seemed upset that I wasn’t coming.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Are you sure? You sounded disappointed and I was worried. If it means that much to you, I could come.”
“No,” Ari said abruptly, thinking of the likely activities that would take place at Hideaway. “Really, Dad. It’s okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Look, just send me whatever you want to get me, and I’ll call you next week after I get it. Okay?”
There was a long pause. “Well, I’ll think about it some more. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“ ’Bye, Dad.” Ari clicked the phone shut and frowned. She felt out of sorts and couldn’t decide if she was upset, sad, disappointed—or ashamed.
She glanced down at the headstones and realized that she was uncomfortable standing in front of her mother’s grave while she tormented her father. Despite their divorce, her mother would never approve.
“Sorry,” she whispered and quickly walked back to the SUV. She climbed in and leaned against the headrest. She closed her eyes and pushed the feelings away, certain that when she left the cemetery she would no longer be wrapped in the cloak of her family, which up until a few minutes ago had been pleasurable and soothing.
When she reached Smiley’s, she knew she was early and the brunch crowd had not yet claimed the best tables around the large picture windows. She found her favorite one, away from the kitchen and the front door. She ordered an iced tea and looked over her shoulder to find a young woman staring at her from the bar. The woman nodded at the bartender and slid off the stool, heading toward her. She dropped into the opposite chair, placing a messenger bag on the floor beside her. Ari smiled at a soft butch with close-cropped brown hair. She found her attractive but not in a noticeable way. She would easily blend into a crowd and never turn heads. Ari guessed she had not turned thirty, and she was blessed with youthful features. She wore a tight, black Led Zepplin concert T-shirt tucked into her jeans, and she noticed a tattoo on the inside of her forearm, a Chinese symbol. Her overall effect telegraphed danger, but Ari guessed such a judgment would be inaccurate. Her intensity was palpable, and she made no effort to immediately introduce herself, quite comfortable violating standing rules of etiquette.
The silence drove Ari into action, fostered by her good manners and the refined conversation skills that came from years in real estate. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Biz Stone. I believe we’re both here to meet Jane.” Instead of her hand, Biz reached into her back pocket and offered her a business card.
Ari read the simple black print,
Elizabeth Stone, Private Investigator
, a local phone number listed beneath her name. “Biz,” she repeated. “That’s a very unique nickname.”
She smiled pleasantly and studied the silverware. “And a long story.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone asks me that question, but I only tell the story to people who earn my trust, and considering we’ve just met . . .” Her voice faded out, Biz apparently not feeling the need or interest to complete an obvious thought.
“Of course.”
“I’ve seen you at Hideaway, and I know Molly, too,” she added quickly.
Ari nodded in recognition. She’d just never put Biz’s name together with the face, but she was always surrounded by several voluptuous femmes at the bar. “Yes, I knew you looked familiar, but I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced.”
“No, we’ve never met officially, but I’ve seen you. You’re not easy to forget.”
The comment surprised Ari, but before she could respond, Jane waltzed up to the table. “Hello, hello.” She immediately proffered her hand to Biz, who stood to
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