The Keeper of Happy Endings(84)

“To the best fairy godmother any girl could ask for.”

Soline smiled as she raised her glass, but the gesture seemed like an effort. Rory lowered her glass, suddenly aware that in her excitement she had been inconsiderate. “I’m sorry. You’re tired. We’ll tell her we’re going to get it to go, and I’ll take you home.”

“Don’t be silly. We’re here. I’ll just go to the ladies’ room and tidy myself up.”

Rory felt a pang of guilt as she watched Soline disappear into the restaurant. They’d been having such a wonderful day she hadn’t wanted it to end. But she’d forgotten that Soline had forty years on her, and they’d been going hard for nearly six hours.

“Aurora?”

Rory’s hand flew reflexively to her freshly cropped hair when she saw Camilla making a beeline in her direction.

“My god. What have you done to your hair?”

“I cut it.”

“Please tell me Lorna didn’t do that to you.”

“No. Paul.”

“Who on earth is Paul?”

“He owns Bella Mia, and I love it, so please don’t criticize.”

Camilla snapped her mouth closed, confirming that she’d been about to do just that. Instead, she narrowed her eyes on the striped linen suit Rory had opted to wear out of the store. “And the clothes?”

Rory smiled, determined not to take the bait. “You wanted me to spruce myself up, and I have.” She paused, pointing to the collection of bags at her feet. “I’ve been shopping all day.”

“So I see. Since when do you go shopping?”

“Since you called me shabby. You were right, though. It was time for a makeover.”

“And you picked these things out for yourself?”

Rory resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. “What are you doing here, Mother?”

“I’ve just been to Cartier to pick up my watch. I knocked the stem out a few weeks ago, and they called to say it was ready.” Her gaze slid to the table, resting briefly on the second place setting. “And you’re having lunch. Who with?”

Rory was about to reply when she spotted Soline making her way back to the table.

Camilla saw her too. “Who is that?”

“That’s Soline.”

“That’s who’s been helping you shop?”

“Yes.”

“And the hair? That was her idea too?”

“I wanted something new. Something . . . different.”

“Well, you certainly found it.”

Camilla fell silent as Soline approached. The silence spooled out as the two women stood staring at each other. Finally, Rory cleared her throat. “Soline, this is my mother, Camilla Grant. Mother, this is Soline Roussel.”

“Ah, yes,” Camilla drawled with a sugary smile. “The landlady I’ve been hearing so much about. We meet at last.”

“Yes,” Soline replied with a polite nod. “At last.”

“Isn’t it funny? I was running some errands and just happened to be walking past. I remember they used to do the most delicious lobster salad here. In fact, Rory and I were just talking about it the other day, weren’t we? And now here you both are having lunch.”

Soline indicated the empty chair beside her. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I hate to push in.” But even as the words were leaving her mouth, she was pulling out the empty chair. “Still, I can’t pass up a chance to lunch with the infamous Soline Roussel.”

Soline’s brows slid up. “Surely not infamous.”

Camilla’s charm bracelet jangled as she shook out her napkin and laid it in her lap. “I only meant that my daughter has told me so much about you. And your shop. Such a pity about the fire.”

Soline reached for her water glass, clearly rattled by the mention of the fire. “She’s told me about you too,” she said after a brief sip. “In fact, she speaks of you quite often.”

Camilla held Soline’s gaze a moment longer than necessary. “Does she?”

Rory’s stomach roiled as she watched them spar, painfully aware of what was being said—and what wasn’t. She needed to divert the conversation before her mother’s tone escalated from passive-aggressive to just plain aggressive.

She was about to blurt out that she’d settled on the light fixtures for the gallery when their waitress appeared, balancing a tray on her shoulder. She blinked at Camilla, then at Rory. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were expecting a third. Let me just set this down and I’ll grab a menu and some silverware.”

Camilla waved a perfectly manicured hand. “No need. Just bring me a nice chardonnay and a plate of that lovely lobster salad if you still have it. Oh, and the dressing on the side if you don’t mind.” She ran an eye around the table when the waitress was gone, surveying the freshly delivered food. “Doesn’t that look delicious. And you’re sharing. How nice. Please, don’t wait for me. I’m sure my salad won’t take long.”

Rory silently fumed as her mother took a piece of bread from the basket, then reached over to borrow her knife to butter it. She was being punished, she realized, for her disloyalty. As Camilla had punished her husband each time one of his affairs came to light and embarrassed her in front of her friends.