When the maître d’ showed her into the dining room where Caro Cain was already waiting, Sydney had to clench her hands around the strap of her purse to hide the faint tremble in her fingers.
But Caro stood up and, rather than shake Sydney’s hand, gave her an air kiss, which somehow managed to be welcoming and dismissive at the same time.
Taken aback, Sydney awkwardly reached out to return the hug, but Caro had already stepped away.
“Um, thank you for inviting me to lunch,” Sydney said.
“Of course!” Caro enthused. “I want to do anything I can to help.”
“I see,” Sydney said as she lowered herself to the cushioned edge of the seat. The second her bottom touched fabric a waiter was at the table filling up her water glass.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Caro asked, as though she was a hostess rather than merely another guest at the country club’s restaurant.
“Just tea, please,” Sydney answered.
Caro gave the waiter a distant smile. “Another wine then for me and a sweet tea for my guest.”
“Unsweetened,” Sydney quickly corrected her. “I like to keep things simple.”
“Very well.” Caro nodded. “An unsweetened iced tea,” she said to the waiter. Her tone was beleaguered, as if Sydney’s choice was a personal affront to her.
“So,” Caro said when they were alone again. “Now you’re helping Griffin with his search for the girl.”
“Yes.”
“I’m certainly willing to do anything I can to help.”
“Yes, well, the forty-two boxes of household records you sent over have been very informative.”
“I’m so glad,” Caro said, and though her tone was effusive, it lacked true feeling. “Though I’ll admit I was a bit worried about just handing over so much personal information. But I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Caro gave a fragile smile accompanied by a fluttering hand gesture. Sydney had the odd impression that she wasn’t really having lunch with Caro, but rather that she was attending a stage performance. Maybe something by Tennessee Williams, something with a lot of wispy Southern women dripping with family drama. Sydney had never cared for Tennessee Williams. She was more of a Mamet girl, herself.
She couldn’t help wondering if Caro Cain was truly as fragile as she appeared. After the waiter dropped off the drinks, Sydney pulled out her iPad and prepared to take notes.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” she began.
Caro pressed her fingertips to her chest, feigning surprise. “Were the household records not enough?”
“There is a lot of information in those forty-two boxes. Searching through them is quite a job. Because we are a bit short on time, I’m sure you can appreciate the need for efficiency.”
Caro delicately brought her napkin up to her eyes as if blotting away fresh tears. “Of course. My dear Hollister could pass at any moment.”
The phrase “my dear Hollister” gave Sydney pause, especially after what Griffin had said earlier about Caro abhorring Hollister. Abhor was a pretty strong word. And perhaps his failing health had softened her emotions.
“Erm…yes, of course,” Sydney hedged, fiddling with the settings on her iPad as she wondered how best to steer the conversation. “If we could just—”
“You don’t like me much, do you?”
Sydney snapped her gaze to Caro’s face. She cringed. “It’s not my place to—”
“I supposed Dalton told you all sorts of horror stories about me.”
“Dalton never really discussed his personal life,” she was able to say honestly.
“Hmm.” Caro took another sip of her wine while pinning Sydney with a cool, assessing gaze. “Then I suppose you’ve just formed your own opinion based on what you think you know about me.”
“I…” Christ, what was she supposed to say to that? “It’s really not my place to have an opinion about you.”
“Nonsense. Everyone has opinions.” Caro waved a dismissive hand and then studied Sydney shrewdly. “I suppose you think I brought this on myself. That I’m as much to blame as Hollister because I turned a blind eye for so many years.” She sighed, staring off into space for a moment. “And maybe I should have left, but I knew he loved me in his own way. Hollister is a great man. But even great men never accomplish great things without the right support system. I told myself I could be that support he needed. Perhaps I fooled even myself.”
Slowly, Caro’s gaze swiveled back to Sydney. Though Sydney met the other woman’s gaze, she had no idea what to say. Honestly, she couldn’t pretend to be sympathetic, but she also couldn’t deny that she understood what Caro meant. Hadn’t she just had a similar thought herself at the office? Not exactly, of course. But similar. That’s what being an assistant was all about. Taking pride in someone else’s work. Helping someone else achieve greatness while being content to stay in the background.