In a Fix (Torus Intercession 2)

“In Chicago,” I answered hesitantly, cracking eggs for Dallas’s omelet.

“And what’s there?”

“Pardon me?”

“In Chicago,” she clarified. “What is in Chicago?”

Ah. “I work for a––”

“No,” she snapped, taking a sip of her tea and then looking back at me, pinning me with her gaze. Clearly, she was waiting.

“No?”

“I want to know what, outside of a job, keeps you in Chicago.”

I had to think.

It was subtle. Her eyebrows lifted first, then her head tipped just a bit, and then came the smile that a cat probably wore once it knew the canary had nowhere to run. “No family?”

“No, ma’am.”

She almost purred. “You have a lot of friends there?”

I shrugged. “I have a few but––”

“So it’s really just you,” she said, laser focused on me. “You’re all alone.”

“No, I’m not alone, I just––”

“I want to reiterate about dinner,” she told me. “I want you both there.”

“That’s very gracious of you,” I said softly, watching as Dallas came back into the room in low-slung jeans that had seen better days, faded and threadbare, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He was barefoot, and when he reached the island, he took the seat on the other side of his sister, not next to his mother.

“You borrowed a sweater, I see,” Dallas said, hands folded in front of him, smiling at me.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. You wear whatever you like. You look good in my clothes.”

I grinned at him. “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Just milk.”

Since I had purchased half-and-half at the store, I put the carton down in front of him with the mug of coffee and a spoon.

“This is amazing,” he told me after taking a sip.

“It’s Croy’s special blend,” Cate announced to her brother.

“I’m glad you like it.”

His eyes never left me.

“Darling.”

Dallas leaned forward so he could turn his head and see his mother as I focused on making his omelet.

“I was telling Croy that I’m having a dinner party tonight. If you’re not working this evening, I’d love it if you and he could come by.”

“I don’t think that’s something that––”

“It’s been so long since your brothers saw you.”

He grunted.

“Dallas?”

“Mother, I don’t have brothers. I have a sister. Just because you got remarried doesn’t make the cover models any relation to me.”

I flipped his omelet, and then again, and put it on a plate. “I’m loving this pan,” I told him.

He groaned.

“I bought that,” Jackie chimed in. “Whenever I find something wonderful, I grab one for all my kids.”

“That’s really nice,” I told her. “One of the guys I work with, Locryn, his mom is like that. She sends odd things to the office because she doesn’t want them dropped off in the middle of the day at his place.”

She was smiling at me.

“Last month he got the world’s greatest ice cream scoop, apparently, and it’s always fun to hear him on the phone with her.”

“And your mother, Croy?” she asked as I put hash browns on Dallas’s plate and then passed it to him. I got him utensils and a napkin, and since Cate hadn’t eaten all her toast, she moved it over between them. “Where is she?”

“Mom,” Dallas whined, squinting at her, “could you not?”

“I think she and my father live abroad at the moment, but I don’t know for certain. We don’t speak, haven’t since I graduated from high school.”

“Oh,” she said, like that news physically hurt her. “I’m so sorry.”

Reaching across the counter for her, I was not surprised when she grabbed my hand tight. “It was a million years ago.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice gone for a moment. “I just—I meddle in the lives of my children. I’m a bit of a steamroller, and I…own that. But I could no more be parted from any of them than I could be parted from my own heart.”

I squeezed her hand a second and then eased out of her hold so I could pour Dallas some orange juice.

“So listen to the name Croy came up with for my business,” Cate told Dallas. “He’s so clever, I’m just amazed.”

“I was amazed from the start,” Dallas told her, sighing as he ate his omelet.

Nine

As Dallas and his sister cleaned the kitchen, though there wasn’t much to do since I’d loaded the dishwasher as I cooked, I called the number on the card that Locryn had texted me. So much had happened since he’d told me about the visit by the lawyer, but I finally had time to find out what that was about.

“Good afternoon,” the receptionist said, running through her script. “You’ve reached the law offices of Dupont and Burge; how may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak to Rendon Lowell, please.”

“If you would remain on the line, I’ll connect you to his office.”

The hold music was “Clair de Lune,” which I had learned to play on the piano when I was eight, and had hated ever since. Thankfully, I didn’t have to listen long, as Mr. Lowell’s assistant answered a few seconds later. She sounded nice, and as soon as I said my name, she put me right through to the man.