I crossed the room and gave her a small, brief hug. The first I’d ever given her, and I think I surprised her with it.
“Congratulations,” I told her, and stepping back, I shook Michael’s hand. “You two are obviously going to be so happy with each other. Anybody could see it.”
“Except for my father.” Emma rolled her eyes, but her elation didn’t dim a bit. “Sophie, maybe you could...”
“Her mother antagonizes him,” Michael said with a wry smile. “Maybe you could rescue him.”
“I was going to say keep him distracted so he doesn’t poison you.” Emma elbowed Michael in the ribs. “She does not antagonize.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said with a laugh, and headed off in the direction Neil and Valerie had gone. I had no idea where the kitchen was, but as I passed through the darkened music room, into the darker, windowless dining room, I got a sense of where it might be. Light spilled into the blackness from a crack underneath a door at the far end, where the staff had brought out the dinner earlier.
Being in a room that size, totally silent, totally dark, was unnerving. I didn’t believe in ghosts or anything, but it was hard to shake the feeling of being watched, or that something might grab me. The house was beautiful, but totally creepy. I thought back to what Neil had said about retiring here. I hoped that if we were still together at that point, I’d have some say in the whole Haunted Mansion decor.
I opened the door and found myself in a long, narrow butler’s pantry. On both sides, tall glass-fronted cabinets held gleaming china. There was a surprisingly modern swinging metal door. Through the oval window that was just slightly too tall for me, I caught a glimpse of the sturdy, industrial kitchen beyond.
I could hear, though, and what I heard was Valerie’s not-at-all-pleased voice.
“Okay, what is this?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Neil’s calm was so obviously faked, even I could tell he was upset, and I’d only been with him for two months.
“You can’t be happy for your daughter? Neil, she looked like she’d swallowed the sun, she was glowing so hard.” Valerie snorted. “You’re going to have to get over whatever has been going on with you lately.”
“Nothing is ‘going on’ with me. I simply don’t care for Michael.” Neil’s voice sounded slightly strained; the pop of a cork punctuated his sentence.
“You have to be joking. Michael is practically perfect. American, but perfect. And she’s so happy.” Valerie’s tone turned softly wheedling. “Would it really harm you to simply put in an effort to get to know him? To listen to what he was saying without looking like you were on a jury?”
“I just don’t think he’s the right man for Emma.”
“You don’t think any man is the right man for Emma. If she donned a habit and took vows you’d think that God wasn’t a good enough husband.”
I covered my mouth to stifle my laugh. I didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, but that was pretty funny.
“She’s too young,” Neil countered, and immediately I thought, Oh no.
“To get married,” he clarified. Like he knew where the conversation was going to go now.
I really hoped it didn’t go where I thought it might.
“From the man who’s dating a woman half his age.” Valerie sighed derisively. “I knew you were going to have a midlife crisis. I figured you’d at least wait until your fifties.”
That... ugh, I didn’t want to use the b-word. I really, really didn’t want to use the b-word.
I knew I was going to have to face her again, once they came out of the kitchen with the champagne. I needed get very Zen, very fast, and listening to the rest of the conversation was clearly not going to be helpful. But I couldn’t tear myself away. Not because I didn’t trust Neil.
I didn’t like feeling as though I was in competition with Valerie, but all of her little slights tonight were too deliberate. It was almost as though she were trying to make me jealous. Why? Because she was angry with me over what I’d done at Porteras? As far as I was concerned, she could be as angry as she wanted, and she would be totally justified. But I didn’t like the other possibility that came to mind, the possibility that she was still carrying some kind of torch for Neil, decades after their relationship had ended. It had been bad enough when Valerie was targeting me with barely veiled hostility, but now she was trying to insinuate herself into Neil’s private life where I was concerned. That made me suspect that there was more to her dislike of me than just anger over my bad business ethics.
“Sophie isn’t my midlife crisis,” Neil stated firmly. I have to admit, my heart did funny things to hear him defending our relationship and me. “She’s my girlfriend.”