Chapter 11
DORIAN
Mario’s was a long established Willet Cove mainstay.
I’d been going there since I was younger than Annie.
It had been my mother’s first choice for a celebration.
And my mother could celebrate with the best of them.
Nothing was off the table. A good grade on an exam or paper, coming in first at a track meet? All worthy of a night at Mario’s.
The ladies were already there, waiting near the front entrance when I arrived.
Annie beamed when she saw me, motioning me over just as Mario came up to take us to a table.
He led us over to a round corner booth with a curved banquette, which meant the three of us ended up closer together than a rectangular table would have allowed.
Somehow, I ended up in the middle between them.
I’m not sure how it happened but was fairly certain it was not an accident.
“How are we this evening?” Mario asked.
“My soccer team won,” Annie said. “So we’re celebrating.”
Mario nodded his approval. “Very good.” He turned toward me. “How are you tonight, Mr. Flynn?”
“Well, thank you.”
“I was just thinking about your mother earlier today. She’s missed,” Mario said.
“By me too,” I said. “I was just thinking how we came here to celebrate, small and big things. This was one of her favorite places to do so.”
“Really?” Annie asked, clearly eager to hear more.
“Yes, she always said every day should feel like a party,” I said.
“That sounds good to me,” Annie said, grinning.
Mario took our order. The barbecue chicken and a pepperoni, plus a soda for Annie and glasses of red for Delphine and me. After he left, Annie turned to me. “Thanks for coming to my game. That was super nice.”
“I enjoyed it. Brought back memories of when I was your age. I loved track, not soccer, but the vibe was the same. All the parents cheering for you guys. The scent of fresh grass in sea air. It’s moments like that when I remember why I came back here.”
“Would you have come home if your mom hadn’t needed you?” Annie asked.
“Yes, that was always my plan,” I said. “I’d thought, naively, that she’d be here when I was ready. Turns out, we didn’t have that much time.”
“That’s sad,” Annie said.
“Yes, it is,” I said simply. “Regardless, she was a wonderful mother, and I have many, many good memories.”
“Were you ever scared in the Navy?” Annie asked.
“Sometimes. But I was never in combat or anything like that. I was an intelligence officer. The worst part was probably the travel—long stretches away, not always somewhere you could talk about.”
“He put that in his profile,” Annie said. “I bet women love that you served our country, right, Mom?”
Delphine didn’t react, other than to take a sip of wine before asking, “What does a naval intelligence officer actually do?”
“Gather, analyze, and brief the decision-makers on information that affects operations. You become very good at reading situations quickly. Retaining detail.” I paused. “I have something close to a photographic memory, which helped considerably.”
Delphine’s eyes moved to mine with new interest. “Close to?”
“Not perfect. But close. I can read something once and retain most of it. Images especially.”
“That must be useful,” she said carefully.
“It has its applications,” I said, leaving it there for now.
“That’s really cool,” Annie said.
“Do you know what you want to do after high school?” I asked.
“College for sure,” Annie said.
“Nonnegotiable,” Delphine said firmly.
“Any idea what you’d want to study?” I asked Annie.
“Not really. Which is a bummer because all my friends know. Mia wants to study art. Grace will major in drama. Robbie’s a tech nerd, so he’ll probably invent something amazing.”
“Hopefully saving the world,” Delphine said with a smile.
“What about Tyler?” I asked. “Does he know what he wants to do?”
“You knew I left someone out,” Annie said. “That’s cool.”
I glanced at Delphine, who was watching me, a soft expression in her eyes.
“Tyler’s like me,” Annie said. “We’re obsessed with sports. So who knows. I wish I could play soccer forever.”
“You can,” I said. “It will always be there as a hobby.”
“Or you could coach,” Delphine said.
“But no interest in art?” I asked Annie.
“No, it’s weird, but I have zero talent in that way,” Annie said. “Even though both my parents are artists.”
The pizza came out then and for a while conversation gave way to the more important business of eating. Annie dug into hers, gobbling up two pieces by the time Delphine and I had taken only a few bites of our first slices.
My phone pinged from my pocket. “Sorry, ladies. I should have put it on silent.”
I pulled it out. The notification was from Second Chance. You have a new match.
“Is it a match?” Annie asked, casually, like it was not a big deal at all.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I said. “My first one.”
“Does she look interesting?” Annie leaned over to look. “Oh my gosh, we know her. Mom, it’s that realtor lady you dislike.”
“Camille Archer?” Delphine asked.
“Yep, that’s her,” Annie said. “Her handle is @AHome4You. That’s kind of clever. Double meaning.”
“Have you met her?” Delphine asked me.
“I think she’s come into the shop before.” I scrolled through her photos. She was blonde and polished, with that shine all realtors seemed to have. “Do you know her well?”
“A little,” Delphine said.
“And?” I asked, amused by her sour expression. “You don’t like her?”
“She’s very pleasant,” Delphine said, in a tone that meant the opposite.
“Is she the one you were so mad about?” Annie asked. “The one who stole the art?”
“She didn’t steal it,” Delphine said. “Not exactly.”
“She tricked the owners into selling it to her for cheap,” Annie explained to me. “Mom went on about it for days.”
“Do tell,” I said.
Delphine flushed, looking embarrassed. “Camille sold the Hartley house last spring. After Eleanor Hartley passed. The family wanted a quick sale and Camille was very accommodating.”
“Accommodating?” I had to laugh. “What does that mean?”
Delphine looked at me steadily. “Eleanor had dementia toward the end. Her children were exhausted and overwhelmed and just wanted the estate sold and taken care of so they could move on with their lives. Apparently, Camille had been aware of the property for some time before Eleanor died.” She spoke slowly, as if choosing each word like she was searching for the best piece in a chocolate-covered candy box.
“She moved very quickly once the family was ready. The house sold below market value. And several pieces of art that Eleanor had collected over the years—significant pieces I’d brokered for her—went with the sale or were purchased separately for a fraction of what they were worth.
I’m not sure exactly how Camille did it.
Either way, in my opinion, she tricked Eleanor’s kids.
They let go of extremely valuable art that would only have increased in value.
Which is why I went on and on about it. Which sometimes I do. ”
“Any injustice really gets to her.” Annie reached for another piece of pizza.
“Eleanor had a real eye, before the dementia,” Delphine said.
“Did the family know what they had?” I asked.
“They didn’t know what they didn’t know,” Delphine said simply.
“Camille did. If I’d known, I would have stepped in, but it was too late.
Now that woman has two exquisite paintings hanging in her house.
Or maybe she didn’t even hang them. They’re just sitting somewhere, collecting worth.
Which might be the worse of the two scenarios.
At least someone should be enjoying them. ”
“Mom’s passionate about art.” Annie sipped from her soda.
“Well, I can understand why that would make you mad,” I said.
“You cannot go out with her,” Annie said. “As your dating consultant, I have to forbid it.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Delphine said, completely unconvincingly.
“I’m glad you did,” I said. “I can’t be dating an art thief.”
“There will be others,” Annie said. “Who don’t steal art. You can’t give up.”
“What made you decide to go on there in the first place?” Delphine asked, turning her glass in circles on the table, not looking at me.
I shrugged. “Optimism.”
That made Delphine laugh.
“Why aren’t you on there?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Pessimism.”
We all laughed.
“Opposites attract. Seraphina says it’s a popular romance trope,” Annie said.
Delphine and I exchanged an awkward glance.
Before either of us could think of anything to say, Annie leapt to her feet. “I see Tyler and Robbie outside. I’m going to say hi.”
“We’ll meet you in the parking lot,” Delphine said. “It’s getting late.”
I didn’t want the evening to end. Annie sprinted out of the restaurant and out into the parking lot, where the last bit of sunshine cast the world in an orange sheen. Beyond, the ocean looked almost sapphire.
I waved for the check, which Mario brought right over. “Let me get this,” I said when Delphine reached for her bag. “My treat.”
She seemed to weigh arguing with me, but, in the end, thanked me. “I’ll get next time.”
Next time?
Delphine tossed her hair behind her shoulders, sending a waft of sweet scent my way. “I didn’t mean to imply there would be a next time.”
“Obviously,” I said.
“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Delphine asked.
“It’s warm, yes.”
It wasn’t.
Be brave, I told myself. Take the opening. “I’d like there to be a next time. When’s the next soccer match?”
“Is it just Annie you want to spend time with?” She looked directly into my eyes, and my stomach dropped through the floor, possibly hitting the dishwasher toiling away in the basement.
“What are you asking?” I held my breath, waiting for an answer.
“It’s obvious Annie’s trying to put us together,” Delphine said. “And I want to know if you know that too.”
“I guess so,” I said, evasively.
She shifted, resting her cheek in her hand, watching me. “And how do you feel about it?”
“About Annie matchmaking us?”
She nodded.