The Golden Lily (Bloodlines, #2)(42)

I shook my head and tried to keep my tone friendly. "Sorry, sir. Insight only goes so far." After a few moments of silence, Nathan cleared his throat. "Well, Adrian. What is it you wanted?"

Adrian took a sip of his martini. "Oh, did you just notice I was here? I thought you'd come to see Sydney."

I sank into my chair a little. This was exactly the kind of situation I'd wanted to avoid.

"Why must every question yield some difficult answer with you?" asked Nathan wearily.

"Maybe it's the kinds of questions you ask, Dad."

This pub wasn't going to be big enough to hold the rapidly increasing tension. Every instinct told me to become invisible, but I found myself speaking anyway.

"Adrian's in college," I said. "Taking art classes. He's very talented." Adrian shot me a questioning - but amused - look at that. Some of his pieces were quite good. Others -

especially when he'd been drinking - looked like he'd accidentally spilled paint on canvas.

I'd helpfully told him so on a number of occasions.

Nathan looked unimpressed. "Yes. He's done that before. It didn't last."

"Different time, different place," I said. "Things can change. People can change."

"But often, they don't," declared Nathan. The bartender returned to take our lunch orders, though none of us had even looked at the menus yet. "I'll just order for us all, shall I?" Nathan opened the menu and scanned it quickly. "Bring us a platter of the garlic butter mushrooms, the goat cheese fondue, the bacon-wrapped scallops, and the fried oyster Caesar salad.

Enough for three on the salad, obviously."

The bartender made a couple of quick notes and was gone before I could even say a word.

"Heavy-handed much, Dad?" asked Adrian. "You didn't even ask if we minded you ordering." Nathan looked unconcerned. "I've eaten here before. I know what's good. Trust me, you'll like it."

"Sage won't eat any of that."

This really would be easier, I decided, if they'd both just pretend I didn't exist.

"Why ever not?" asked Nathan, looking at me curiously. "Are you allergic to seafood?"

"She only eats healthy stuff," said Adrian. "Everything you just got is dripping in fat."

"A little butter won't hurt her. You'll both see that I'm right. It's all good. Besides," Nathan added, pausing to sip at his water. "I did order a salad for the table. Lettuce is healthy." I didn't even attempt to point out that no amount of Romaine was going to make up for fried oysters or Caesar dressing. I wouldn't have had a chance to speak up anyway because Adrian was on a roll and - I noticed with some surprise - halfway through his martini.

"You see?" he said in disgust. "That's exactly how you operate. You assume you know best for everyone. You just go ahead and make these decisions, not bothering to consult with anyone, because you're so certain you're right."

"In my vast experience," said Nathan coldly, "I am usually right. When you too possess that kind of experience - when you can actually claim to be an authority on, well, anything -

then you can also be trusted with important decisions."

"This is lunch," Adrian argued back. "Not a life or death decision. All I'm saying is that you could have at least made some effort to include others. Obviously, your 'vast experience'

doesn't apply to normal courtesies."

Nathan glanced over at me. "Have I been anything but courteous to you, Miss Sage?" My chair, much to my dismay, didn't swallow me up or offer to hide me.

Adrian finished his martini in a gulp and held up the glass to catch the bartender's eye.

"Leave her out of it," Adrian told his father. "Don't try to manipulate her into proving your point."

"I hardly need to manipulate anyone into proving my point," said Nathan. "I think it's made."

"Lunch will be fine," I blurted out, fully aware that this altercation between father and son really had nothing to do with my eating habits. "I need to try more things anyway."

"Don't give in to him, Sydney," warned Adrian. "That's how he gets away with walking all over people - especially women. He's done it to my mom for years." The bartender silently appeared and replaced the empty martini glass with a full one.

"Please," said Nathan, with a heavy sigh. "Let's leave your mother out of this."

"Should be easy enough," said Adrian. I could see lines of tension in his face. His mother was a sensitive topic. "Seeing as you always do. I've been trying to get an answer out of you for weeks on how she's doing! Hell, I've just been trying to figure out where she's even at. Is that so hard for you to give up? She can't be in maximum security. They must let her get letters."

"It's better that you don't have contact with her while she's incarcerated," said Nathan.

Even I was amazed at how coldly he spoke about his wife.

Adrian sneered and took a sip of his new martini. "There we are again: you knowing what's best for everyone. You know, I'd really, really like to think you're keeping this avoidance attitude with her because it hurts too much. I know that if the woman I loved was locked away, I'd be doing everything in my power to reach her. For you? Maybe it's too hard. Maybe the only way you can cope without her is to block her out - and by keeping me away too. I could almost understand that."