Deadly Expectations (55 page)

While we ate I noticed a man up on the second level watching us.
 
Or I thought he was.
 
He came and went a few times and disappeared when he caught me looking.
 
I thought about the man Paul had seen the night before.

“The man you saw … what did he look like?” I asked.

Paul finished his mouthful while he thought.
 
“Shoulder length blonde hair, rectangular shaped glasses … thick black frame.
 
No facial hair.
 
Why?”

“So it’s not the man up there who I keep catching watching us.”
 
The man I saw had short dark hair.

He laughed a bit.
 
“Maybe you have a fan?”

I shook my head.
 
“He’s not acting like that.”

Paul seemed to brood again for a moment.
 
“I don’t like to ask you to intrude but my father always did.
 
Is he family?”

I reached for Paul’s hand and started absently playing with his ring as I extended my sense like I had at his table.
 
What I picked up was confusing.
 
I lifted my eyes to Paul’s and let my mind wander.
 
I decided to tell him what I found and as I spoke I fit the pieces together.

“Yes … and no,” I told him, he raised his eyebrows.

“His loyalty isn’t to anyone I’ve met.
 
It’s solid to someone sitting up there.
 
I have no way of recognizing them like your father does … I wouldn’t remember meeting them before.”

“Them?” he asked.

I nodded.
 
“Six.
 
Five men and one woman.
 
She’s connected to the one they are loyal to …”

My focus wandered again, centering on her.
 
Then I smiled.

“Our child isn’t the only one coming.”

“You got all that?”
 
There was amazement on Paul’s face.
 
“They must be interested in us … have someone who can read.
 
Maybe the one you saw up there.”

“So this has turned into a working date?
 
We’ll have to do this again.”

 
“Yes,” he smiled at me and we went back to our food for a while.
 
The man kept checking on us.

“So what do we do?” I asked.

“I’m not just going to march up there,” he said as he finished his glass of wine.
 
He was cautious.
 

“Is there a tradition for when you find someone?”

“Usually we drink,” Paul said.

“That’s not very imaginative,” I said and Paul shrugged.
 
It was about what I expected from a bunch of guys.

“I have an idea if it’s okay with you.”
 
The waitress had spotted that we were done and was on her way over.
 
“Order a drink then nod like
you’re
giving me permission.
 
He’s watching …”

I quickly pulled one of the dirty hundreds out of my purse and folded it up ready for the waitress.
 
Paul talked to her about the scotch they had and ordered.
 
I looked over at him and he nodded.
 
The man still watched us.

“Can I ask you something?” I leaned close to her so I could keep my voice down.

“Of course dear,” she said.

“Is there a fellow sitting up top there … blonde hair,” I indicated to my shoulders, “glasses, black frame …
squarish
?”

“Keith?” she answered.

“Yes … we’d like to send a round to him and his table.
 
Can you tell him we’re friends from way back and would like to send up a … traditional hello?”

She looked at me like I was trying to have fun with her so I gave her my sweetest smile.
 
“We appreciate it’s a very unusual request … this is for their drinks.
 
The rest is for you.”
 
I slipped her the hundred.
 
She looked at it with surprise.

“My pleasure,” she said and gathered up our empty dishes.

“Ice broken,” I told Paul.

I excused myself to the washroom to touch up my lipstick.
 
When I came out the waitress had returned.

“The gentleman upstairs says he would like to thank you personally.
 
Can you stay a while?”

I looked at Paul until she looked at him.
 
Then he nodded.

“So the rest is up to me?” he asked.

“Isn’t there an easier way to do this?
 
Second Tuesday in October at the Space Needle or something?”

“We could never agree,” he laughed.
 
He reached across the table and I took his hand.
 
We chatted for a while then I had a concern.

“Paul … they will think I’m like I was before.
 
We shouldn’t bring up anything other than my ability to read.”

He nodded.
 
“I was thinking the same thing.
 
I don’t know what sort of agenda they might have … if any.
 
They’re not loyal to Damian but they may not like what you have planned.”
 
He thought a minute.
 
“Hopefully we can make some friends—.”

“Wait,” I interrupted him.
 
“She’s left … one of them is coming down.”

We kept our attention on each other.
 
I waited for Paul to look up first when he approached our table then I followed.
 
It was the man with the black glasses but his blonde hair was tied back.

“I must admit nobody has ever bought me a drink in my own place,” he said.
 
Then he reached his hand to Paul.
 
“Keith Waters … this is my restaurant.”

Paul stood and shook.
 
“John Lund … my wife Rachel.”

I stood too.
 
Keith took my hand.

“Perhaps I could speak with you privately for a moment, John.”

I sighed and shook my head.
 
Grownup talk.

“You may excuse me,” I said.
 
Paul nodded to me so I went down the hall to the ladies room for the second time in twenty minutes.
 
My lipstick didn’t really need any attention so I used the restroom then counted to one hundred.
 
When I came back Paul and Keith were talking quietly with their heads together.
 
Neither seemed tense or uneasy and both smiled as I approached.
 
When Paul saw me he stepped back from Keith and reached for me.
 
Keith’s eyes dropped briefly as he noticed my stomach.

“Paul says you don’t appreciate being left out,” Keith said.

I looked at Paul for an explanation.
 
The conversation had started with us not using our real names.

“Keith and I have been good friends for a very long time,” Paul explained.

“Anna,” I said holding my hand to him again.
 
This time he kissed it.

“Russian?” he asked.

“On my mother’s side.”

“Interesting … she who will rise again.”

“Yes,” I said.
 
The corners of Paul’s mouth came up a bit.

“Well, you must come up and join us.
 
My wife hasn’t been feeling well so I convinced her to go lie down in the office for a while.”

Perhaps Keith didn’t know yet that his wife was pregnant.
 
I certainly wouldn’t bring it up and was quite sure that Paul wouldn’t either.
 
We followed him up the stairs.
 
I held on to Paul’s hand.
 
The carpet was thick and my shoes felt awfully unstable.
 

There was only one table occupied up top.
 
Three men waited there; the man with the short dark hair watched us from the railing.

While Keith introduced Paul to the ones at the table I stared back.
 
After absently hearing their first names I realized who he was.
 
I gently slipped my hand from Paul’s and approached him, pausing within arms reach.

He looked at me for a moment longer.

“You must be the reader,” he said.
 
“Your husband requires too much explanation.”

“Anna Richards,” I nodded to him and offered my hand.

“Patrick Fletcher.”
 
He shook.

“I believe I owe you a cigarette,” I told him.

“Yes,” he laughed. “I remember Andre.
 
I don’t smoke.”

From the corner of my eye I could see Paul look over.

“Well, let’s not make a spectacle of ourselves.”
 
He gestured to the table.
 
Keith had pulled over an extra chair and we sat down.
 
Patrick took a moment to whisper in Keith’s ear while Paul was whispering in mine.

“What was that all about?”

“I remembered that one.”
 

Paul looked at me for a moment.

“Patrick says you are a good reader … perhaps you could show me.”

I looked at Paul; the last thing I wanted was to embarrass him in front of his good friend.
 
He nodded to me so I looked back at Keith.

“Whose line am I part of?” he asked.
 
I hesitated and spoke quickly to Paul.

“Can I speak of your line if I need to?” he nodded.

“And what about mine?”

“You represent your line here … use your discretion.”

I looked at Keith.

“Mine,” I said immediately.

“And Patrick?”

“Also mine,” I replied.
 
This was easy and probably answers he already knew.

“And the others?”

I pointed to the other three one at a time.
 
“My husband’s, related to another I have met who is not part of one of the three lines, not related to anyone I have met before.”

The table was quiet for a minute.

“That was almost too easy for you … is there any more you can do?”

I looked at Paul again.
 
Keith was pushing farther than I felt comfortable but Paul nodded to go ahead.

“I’ve had some success tracing family lines where the exact relations have been forgotten.”

Now there was silence around the table.

“You could help Patrick and I settle a bet … with what you know of the family can you tell us if we have the same parents?”

“Only if I’ve met them both …” but I felt a solution come to me as I said it.
 
“Maybe I can find a way around that.”