Kara Lennox - Under Deepest Cover

And that cure was worse than the disease.

They were ten minutes late for the party in the private dining room on the floor below the restaurant, but no one seemed to notice or care. The first appetizers were being passed around, wine was flowing and conversation hummed.

Bryan noticed that someone had put place cards on the table. “Was this your idea?” he said, picking up his own and showing it to Lucy.

She nodded. “I thought it might be better if everyone from the same magazine didn’t sit together. So we don’t have conversational cliques.”

And Lucy had done something else rather bold: instead of putting together two long tables, she’d arranged the copper-top tables into a big square.

“Is it okay?” she asked uncertainly. “I thought everyone would be able to see and talk to everyone else this way.”

“You think my family needs to talk more?”

“They talk a lot. Just sometimes not in the most productive ways. And some of them could do with more listening.”

Bryan laughed. “I hope you’re not fantasizing you can be a peacemaker. The bitching and moaning and yelling isn’t going to stop until someone is named CEO.”

“I can try.”

Stash appeared to take drink orders, but everyone seemed content with the wine.

“Do you want to check the menu?” he whispered to Bryan.

“I’m sure it’s fine. But I don’t see any garlic butter.”

“I’ll send someone down.”

“I’ll come up and get it. I want to make the rounds in the dining room.”

Upstairs, he did some glad-handing. He sent a bottle of wine to a man he recognized as a competing restaurateur, comped a plate of hors d’oeuvres to several cast members from a soap, paid his respects to an opera diva.

Then he spotted someone he hadn’t seen in his rounds, a woman dining alone at a small table, nursing a glass of red wine. Her eyes darted around the dining room until finally her gaze found him, and she smiled uncertainly.

He walked briskly to her table, and she stood to greet him.

“Mom. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? How come no one told me you were here?”

Amanda Elliott hugged her son, then straightened her neat suit jacket. “I’m not sure your new hostess recognized me. And if you’re busy, it’s okay.”

“Never too busy for you. Mom, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. She’s downstairs.” He hesitated, knowing his mother was no longer comfortable around the Elliott clan. “We’re having a party to celebrate EPH profits.”

“Then you’re busy. I’ll come back-”

“No, Mom, I think you should join us. Karen’s here.” His aunt Karen was the one Elliott Amanda had remained close to, other than her sons.

“Is Patrick here?” she asked warily.

“He meant to be, so he could whip everyone into a frenzy of competition. But he canceled. Gram’s not feeling well, and he didn’t want to leave her home alone.”

Amanda immediately showed her concern. “Maeve’s all right, isn’t she?”

“Just her arthritis acting up. Come on, bring your wineglass. Everyone will be happy to see you.”

“Everyone? Then your father’s not here?”

“Everyone, and he is here. His divorce from Sharon is final, you know.”

“I heard. I also heard about your new girlfriend, and I am curious.”

Bryan took his mother’s arm, giving her no chance to protest further. He forgot about the garlic butter that had sent him upstairs in the first place.

“Everyone, look who I found.”

Amanda looked embarrassed, but Bryan wasn’t disappointed in his family. Several of his cousins popped out of their chairs to greet Amanda with a hug. They were all fond of her, and her absence at family gatherings was always commented on, except by Patrick.

Then there was Daniel, Bryan’s father, who never said anything about Amanda. But Bryan knew his parents still had lingering feelings for each other.

“Mom,” Bryan said, “I want you to meet Lindsay Morgan.”

“Lindsay.” Amanda took both of Lucy’s hands in hers. Bryan was alarmed by the sheen of tears in his mother’s eyes. What was that about? Surely the mere sight of Lucy didn’t fill Amanda with despair. She’d never been like some moms, thinking no girl was good enough for her boys.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, and Lucy said, “Oh, Mrs. Elliott, won’t you join us?” Without even realizing it, Lucy had slipped into the role of hostess.

It seemed a natural for her. What was more, it felt somehow…right.

“Call me Amanda, please. And I can see you all are in the middle of something.

Bryan insisted I come down and say hi, but I’ll be on my way now.” But her turndown lacked conviction. Bryan could tell she wanted to stay. Though she often claimed she’d been much happier away from the big, noisy Elliott clan, Bryan knew she sometimes missed being a part of something larger than herself.

“Oh, nonsense,” said Karen, and Bryan could have kissed his aunt. “You come join us.”

“You can take Finola’s chair,” said Bryan’s uncle Shane. “Obviously she can’t tear herself away from work, not even to gloat that she’s in first place.”

This comment started a round of arguments, as it had been intended to do. Amanda shrugged and took the last empty chair where Finola’s place card sat. Bryan watched his father’s face to gauge his reaction. Daniel’s gaze hadn’t left Amanda since she’d entered the room, and any fool could tell he was anything but indifferent. But he was guarded enough that Bryan, even with all his training in body language, couldn’t tell whether Daniel was pleased or angry to have his ex-wife-his first ex-wife-thrust into his company. They sat only two chairs away from each other, with a table corner between them, so they could easily converse if they wanted.

More appetizers appeared, followed by the soup and salad choices Lucy had made.

It would have been hard for her to go wrong-everything on the Une Nuit menu was designed to be mixed and matched. But Bryan was nonetheless pleased with and, yes, proud of the menu Lucy had put together. He told himself it was because he wanted her to appear to be a good match for him, as befitted their cover. But he knew it went deeper than that, which troubled him. He had no business getting so attached to her. Given the progress they were making on the Alliance Trust case, she wouldn’t be with him for long.

As various members of his family got up to stretch their legs between courses, a certain amount of musical chairs took place at the table. Bryan found himself seated next to his cousin Liam, one of Uncle Michael and Aunt Karen’s sons. Liam was the chief financial officer at EPH, and just before the main course, he’d made a brief speech detailing the profits at each of the four EPH magazines.

He’d also read a prepared speech from Patrick congratulating all of his children and grandchildren for rising to the occasion and making the competition a real horse race.

That had produced a few snide comments about what, exactly, Patrick had intended besides increasing profits, but Lucy, of all people, managed to smooth over the outbursts of acrimony and keep the evening on a pleasant note.

“So, Liam, how close is the race?” Bryan asked his cousin confidentially. “You gave us the raw numbers, but I understand the winner is the magazine that grows the most, percentagewise.”

“It’s closer than you can imagine,” Liam said in a low voice. “But I chose to underplay that. Other than to say that Charisma is in first place, I don’t want the other editors to know just how close they are. It’ll only make them crazier.”

“Things are kind of tense, huh?”

“You have no idea. Everyone’s on their best behavior tonight, maybe out of consideration for you and Lindsay and some of the others here who aren’t directly involved with the magazines. But I’m afraid-really afraid-that this crazy competition of Granddad’s is going to create rifts in the family that can never be healed.”