“I certainly wouldn’t have,” Charlotte mused. “The next best thing to Pierce Brosnan.”
“Mother!” Roy looked up from his own plate. “You’re embarrassing our guest.”
“Am I embarrassing you?” Charlotte looked at Mitch, and he lost control of the grin twitching at the corners of his lips.
“Not at all.”
“You’re embarrassing me,” Anne informed them. “Can we direct the conversation away from Eve, please? She doesn’t need to be in the spotlight when she’s with her own family.”
Mitch shot a glance at Anne. The words were measured and considerate, but with all that stripped away, what lay underneath? Could this elegant woman be jealous? Of what? As far as he could tell, her life wasn’t tied all that tightly to Eve’s.
“She isn’t in the spotlight,” Charlotte said in a tone as crisp as the baby romaine leaves she speared with her fork. “I was merely trying to get a rise out of her young man. No need to be embarrassed, Anne.”
“Mama, please. Can we discuss something else?”
“I think Eve’s career is worthy of discussion. I hardly ever get to see the girl. So Eve, are you going to take Mr. Hayes up on his proposals? The ones relating to business, of course.”
“I can’t talk about that here, Grandmother.”
“Why on earth not? We’re your family, and obviously you’ve talked about it with Mr. Hayes.”
“As you might expect, any negotiations about the show are confidential.”
“It’s not likely we’ll say anything, is it? Roy’s got no connections to television, and Anne never talks about you anyway. Silent as the grave, that girl. No fun at all.”
Mitch almost felt sorry for Anne Best. She sat so straight in the ladder-back chair that you could draw the proverbial ballerina’s line from her earlobe to her hipbone.
“Just because some of us don’t believe in gossip-” Anne murmured against her wineglass.
“Bosh,” Charlotte snorted. “You like a good gossip as well as any of us. But I suppose we should be grateful that someone gives us an example of discretion to follow.”
“I’m discreet, Grandmother,” Emily said. “I never talk about Eve or her show, even though all the kids at school know I’m related.”
“I should hope not,” Anne said. “Half of what goes on in that show should be rated NC-17.”
“What?” Eve choked on a green bean, and Mitch clapped her on the back. “You can’t watch it anyway. It comes on before you get home from school.”
“I have TiVo,” Emily informed her smugly. “I tape it every day.”
“You do?” her mother asked.
“Plus they post the episodes on YouTube, so if I forget I can watch them there.”
“Emily, I hardly think that rainbow parties and finding out if your man is a keeper are the kinds of things you should be watching.”
“Why not?” Charlotte wondered aloud. “I’m sure the halls of the junior high ring with exactly that kind of thing.”
“Emily,” Eve said, her face pale, “maybe you should consider your mom’s feelings and watch something else.”
“Why? I’m fourteen. It’s a little late for the parental guidance now, and rainbow parties are so yesterday. Besides, you’re my cousin. I learn all kinds of things from you.”
Silence.
Mitch shifted in his seat and watched Anne. Half of him wanted to get Eve’s coat and hustle her into the car. Half of him was fascinated by the veneer of politeness cracking over what was obviously a very sore subject.
“You can ask your mom and dad if you want to know about the things we talk about on the show,” Eve said quietly.
“At least you talk about them,” the girl retorted. “Mom and Dad don’t talk about anything. Except what’s for dinner and who’s who in all these dumb pictures. Not about relationships and boys and stuff that’s important.”
“Emily, that’s not true. And that’s enough out of you. You’re being very rude,” admonished her mother.
“Now I can’t talk to my own cousin?” Emily threw her napkin down. “First you want me to stop watching her show, and now you want me to stop talking to her?”
“That’s not what I said.”
Mitch could see that Roy was hanging on to his patience for the sake of his guests. “Please sit down and apologize.”
“I didn’t do anything except tell the truth.”
“You have no idea what the truth even means,” Anne snapped. Then she took a deep breath and looked at Mitch. “Can I offer you some dessert, Mr. Hayes?”
“She’s right,” Charlotte said to Anne. “How can she know the truth if you don’t tell her?”
“Would you like some dessert, Mama?”
“You’re still not going to say a word, are you?”
“Fine, Mama. If no one would like dessert, then Roy will make some coffee. I’m afraid I’ve got a terrible headache. I’m going upstairs to my room. I’m so sorry, Mr. Hayes. Perhaps another time you’ll find us better behaved.”
And Eve’s aunt left the room like the Snow Queen exiting the stage, leaving Charlotte angrily staring at her plate, Emily in tears and Eve as white as the walls behind her, proudly displaying the endless generations of her family.
8
EVE SPENT SUNDAY regretting Saturday. The only bright spot in the whole disastrous evening had been Christopher’s shrieks of delight when he’d torn the wrapping off his presents-especially the dinosaur.
So, okay, Mitch had a good handle on what four-year-olds liked. That did not negate the fact that they’d left as early as possible and she still felt as though she’d left a conversation unfinished. She wasn’t sure with whom, though. Emily? Auntie Anne? Grandmother Best?
Grandmother was the worst of them all. Eve should never have brought Mitch along under false pretenses and gotten her hopes up. It wasn’t as if she’d never been attracted to anyone before, and Grandmother knew it. She could hop on a MARTA train, for Pete’s sake, and by the time she got downtown, she’d have seen any number of likely candidates for some fun between the sheets. So why did her family have to overreact like this?
Hmm. She might be able to work with that for the show. “Found Flings,” they could call it. “Single on the Subway.”
Never mind. Eve sighed and tried once again to focus on the script for Wednesday’s show. When the phone rang, it was a relief.
“Hey.” Mitch’s smooth bass made her stomach do that shivery thing it did every time she heard his voice. “Just calling to make sure you were okay after last night.”
“It really was as bad as I thought, wasn’t it?” she asked, pushing aside the script and putting both elbows on the desk. “You’re okay with me not inviting you in, right?”
“Sure. Not that I didn’t want to come in, but I’m a big boy. Anyway, it was your typical family dinner, though more interesting than most. For what it’s worth, I liked your family.”
“Most of the time I do, too. I don’t know what got into Grandmother. Usually she’s the epitome of the Southern lady. I’ve never seen her scratch on poor Auntie Anne like that before. What was up with that whole thing about ‘the truth’?”
“No idea. Probably some argument they got into before we arrived.”
“And Emily watching the show,” Eve said on a sigh. “Our demographics do include teenagers. It never occurred to me that Anne wouldn’t approve.”
“Are you sure it was the show she doesn’t approve of?”
“What do you mean?”
“I got the feeling there was some jealousy floating around.”
Jealous? Anne? Now, that was a stretch. “No. Couldn’t be. I think she was just trying to head off any tendencies to celebrity worship in Emily, that’s all. Myself, I deplore that kind of thing-while I stack the tabloids in my grocery cart.”
Mitch laughed. “Emily struck me as a sensible kid. What’s a rainbow party?”
A chuckle bubbled in Eve’s throat. “Go to Urban Dictionary. com and find out for yourself. And if you have any personal experience, I don’t want to know about it.”