Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(41)

“Where is he?” Emerson asked.

“Probably in the study smoking a cigar,” she said. “You know he hates these parties just as much as you do.”

“Yet he throws them on a regular basis,” Emerson countered.

Hayley shrugged, and Emerson sighed, clearly annoyed. He turned to me.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he told me. “We don’t have to stay long.”

“I don’t mind,” I lied.

Part of me really was curious to explore the house. To see the place where Emerson had grown up. Maybe get a better idea of who he was.

“I might go use the powder room.” I glanced around. “Do you have a map that could get me there?”

Hayley laughed. “It’s down at the end of the hall. Make a left and then another left and then a right.”

I stared at her. “Are you sure you don’t have a map?”

The house was even bigger than I had originally thought. The hall that Hayley sent me down seemed to go on forever, and when I finally reached the end I had almost forgotten the directions I had been given.

“A left and then a right and then another right?” I muttered to myself, opening the door I found.

It didn’t lead to the powder room. Instead, it opened up into a gorgeous study where the walls were lined with expensive—and old—looking books. I stepped inside before I could stop myself. It was by far the most beautiful room I had seen so far.

“May I help you?” a voice asked, and I spun around to find a silver-haired man sitting behind a desk, smoking a cigar.

“I’m so sorry,” I told him, my hand to my chest. “I was looking for the powder room.”

“A few doors down,” the man said, getting up and putting out his cigar. “Though I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Henry Hayes.”

“You’re Emerson’s father,” I said needlessly, immediately seeing the resemblance. Especially when he smiled—which he did just now. Father and son had matching dimples.

“I am,” he said, coming around from behind his desk. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I felt unbelievably rude. “I’m a friend of Emerson’s. Alex Matthis.” I held out my hand and he shook it.

He had a firm handshake.

“Ah yes,” he said, leaning back against the desk. “My wife mentioned that Emerson would be bringing someone. You’re a lawyer, am I right?”

“Very nearly,” I told him, surprised that he knew that much about me. “I’m just waiting on my bar results.”

“Where do you work?” Henry wanted to know.

“I’m at Patricks, Richmond & Garrison,” I said, gratified when his smile grew.

“Excellent firm.” He nodded approvingly. “You must be very talented for them to have snatched you up at such a young age. How long have you been there for?”

“Not long,” I confirmed. “I’m one of their summer associates.”

“I know some of the partners,” he told me. “And we’re always on the look-out for new representation. Maybe I should take another look at Patricks, Richmond & Garrison now that I know the high quality of their employees.”

I was flattered beyond belief. This was exactly what Lucinda—and Arthur—had encouraged, and I hadn’t even really had to do anything.

“I’m sure the partners would love to meet with you,” I somehow managed.

“I’ll set up a meeting next week,” Henry said as if it was nothing. “Now tell me a little more about yourself. And your relationship with my son.”

I felt a little like I had been put in the hot seat, but Henry seemed curious and friendly.

“I live in the same building as his bar,” I told him. “That’s how we met.”

“Ah yes, the bar.” Henry crossed his arms and regarded me. “How is that enterprise?”

“It’s wonderful.” I was happy to talk about that. “The opening went better than expected, and people are already raving about it. Looks like it’s going to become a neighborhood staple in no time.”

“Really?” Henry sounded surprised, which didn’t make any sense to me.

Did he not know his son? Because Emerson’s drive and ambition were immediately obvious. I never had a doubt in my mind that the bar would be a success, whereas Henry seemed to have never even considered that possibility.

“And it’s making money?” Henry wanted to know.

I didn’t know how to answer.

“You’ll have to ask Emerson,” I demurred.

“Of course,” he said, and I got the feeling I was being dismissed.

I didn’t mind. I still had to find the powder room after all, and after I left Emerson’s father, I managed to successfully locate it. Then, it was only a question of finding Emerson back in the crowd.

Thankfully, he found me first.

“Where are we going?” I asked, as he linked his hand with mine and began pulling me towards the staircase, despite the fact that it had a little rope and sign strung across it—a sign that said Do Not Enter.

“But—” I pointed at the sign, but he ignored it, stepping over it and urging me to do the same.