Maybe he was being uncharacteristically frank—or maybe he was trying to set her at ease with a little teasing. She laughed softly. “Well, thanks a lot. If you’d told me you brought me along to provide entertainment during the meal, I’d have prepared some ice-breaker games.”
“My parents never play games,” he assured her with exaggerated solemnity. “They would consider that a frivolous waste of their valuable time.”
“You aren’t making me feel any better about this.”
“Sorry. Just want you to be prepared. My family is pretty much the opposite of yours.”
That was hardly a surprise, she thought, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors swished open.
Upon meeting the professors Stillman, her first thought was that James resembled his mother more than his father. Melissa Stillman was tall, her dark hair highlighted with natural gray streaks that looked good on her, her eyes the same gleaming ebony as her son’s. The same features that made James so strikingly attractive were a bit too blunt for his mother’s face, giving her a slightly intimidating appearance, even though she smiled politely enough when James introduced them.
Bruce Stillman was a couple of inches shorter than his wife and several inches shorter than his son, his frame compact and wiry in comparison to James’s more elegant build. His thin hair was completely gray. His face was rather gauntly carved, with a somewhat prominent nose upon which he propped a pair of half-glasses he peered over when he studied Shannon. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Gambill.”
“Please call me Shannon, Dr. Stillman.”
He nodded, apparently content with the more formal address for himself. Glancing at his watch, he motioned toward the two chairs he and his wife had saved for them at the white-linen-topped table. “We expected you a little earlier. We’ll have to eat quickly, I’m afraid. Melissa and I have several meetings scheduled for this afternoon.”
“We were right on time, Dad,” James murmured, but his father pretended not to hear.
Oh, yeah, Shannon thought with a complete absence of appetite. This was going to be loads of fun.
“So,” James said as they drove away from the hotel only a little more than an hour later, “I thought that went very well. My parents seemed to enjoy the meal. I had a good time.”
Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, Shannon was unusually subdued, though she nodded agreeably. “Yes, it was quite nice. The food was as good as I’ve heard.”
He had noticed she’d barely touched her meal, a marked contrast to her usual healthy appetite. He’d attributed her lack of appetite to self-consciousness with his parents. He supposed that was understandable under the circumstances, even for someone as naturally confident and ebullient as Shannon.
Still, he decided, it had been a very civil meal. His mother had expressed interest in Shannon’s business venture, and his dad—who fancied himself an expert in economics as in most other fields—had even offered a few words of advice about marketing and financial outlooks for small businesses like hers.
They’d asked a few questions about the surprise party James’s friends had thrown for him the night before and his mother had thanked Shannon for sending an e-mail invitation to her university account inviting them to attend. James hadn’t realized until then that Shannon had gone to the trouble of tracking them down and asking them. He could easily imagine the formally courteous response she had gotten from them conveying their regrets that they had other obligations for that evening. And he was sure there had been other obligations. His parents kept their calendars full of meetings and lectures and academic gatherings for months in advance. They would not change their plans at the last minute for anything as relatively unimportant as a surprise party for their thirty-year-old son.
On the whole, his parents had been quite pleasant, chatting about their colleagues, their research, their plans for a summer trip to Krakow. They’d been on their best behavior with Shannon, to his relief. He’d seen them go cold and condescending in the past with a few women he’d dated and of whom they had thoroughly disapproved. Though they’d treated Shannon with their usual reserve and slight wariness of young women who’d attracted their son’s interest, they must not have seen anything in her that had roused antipathy. And really, why should they? He figured even his admittedly elitist parents could see that Shannon was a good person and that he was proud to count her as a friend.
They had wished James success in his upcoming trips, making him promise to stay in touch. He knew they were still rather disappointed that he’d chosen to go into medical practice, but they made it clear they hoped he would continue to research and publish once he entered his chosen field. He assured them that was his plan. Just because he wanted to put his skills to practical application did not mean he’d lost all interest in the study of science, he’d added with a faint smile they had acknowledged with wry glances.
When his parents had glanced at their watches simultaneously, James had taken the signal that they were impatient to move on to their next appointment. He had kissed his mother’s cheek and shaken hands with his father, promising to call them the following week from Seattle. They had both shaken hands with Shannon, telling her how pleased they were to have met her. There was no mention of possible future meetings.
All in all, not so bad, he summarized, quickly replaying the entire encounter in his mind. So he had no idea why Shannon was still so atypically quiet.
“Now that we have that behind us, what would you like to do for the rest o
f the day?” he asked, hoping to divert her.
“I thought I mentioned that I have a meeting with a potential client later this afternoon. It’s a big bash, very high profile. If I get the job, it will be a huge boost for Kid Capers.”
“Yes, you did mention a meeting, but I thought it was still several hours away.”
“I’ve got a few hours, but I need to use that time to go over my presentation. I enjoyed meeting your parents,” she added in a blatantly polite fib, “but I guess we’d better call it a day when you drop me off.”
“I see.”
She had told him about the meeting, he reminded himself. She’d even mentioned that it would be the biggest event she had ever organized if she landed the deal, a sweet-sixteen party for the twin daughters of a prominent Little Rock family. The event was still almost six months away, but she’d assured him it would take that long to put it all together. This had seemed a little excessive to him—how could it possibly take that long to plan a birthday party?—but he’d merely told her that he had complete faith in her ability to convince the client to hire her.
He hadn’t realized she would send him on his way long before her meeting was scheduled to begin.
“Maybe I could help you in some way?” he suggested, stalling for more time with her. “You could make your presentation to me, if you like—you know, a practice session.”
“Thank you, but I’ve got it under control.”