Gabriel gave Danny a regal little nod.
“So on to less awkward subjects. How’s Wade?” Andrea asked in a tone too casual to be authentic.
“He’s fine,” I said lightly.
Andrea sighed. “Yes, he is.”
Jane poked her head out of the stockroom doorway, having apparently heard this comment over the commotion of Dick’s hissy fit. She and I both stared at Andrea for a long moment.
Andrea shrugged. “I have a soft spot for sketchy characters with hearts of gold. And you two were just so adorable at Danny’s birthday party. It’s hard to believe he’s the same guy you were screaming at in a janitor’s closet.”
“I wasn’t screaming. I was projecting my voice. Loudly. And Wade isn’t sketchy,” I insisted quietly, checking to make sure Danny wasn’t listening. “He’s just not what I’m used to.”
I expected some commentary from Jane, but she was staring at the door, with a “kill it with fire” expression on her face. I followed her line of sight to the door and saw my sire strolling into Specialty Books like he didn’t have a care in the world. He’d dressed up for the occasion of startling the hell out of me, wearing a dark blue suit and a crisp white shirt. And his short dark hair seemed especially slicked back. And I was smiling at him, in front of my mentor, who likened him to poison ivy.
Oh . . . shitballs.
“Hey, man,” Dick said, emerging from the stockroom to shake Finn’s hand.
“Dick!” Jane barked.
“What?” Dick sighed. “I don’t get to spend time with a lot of former colleagues.”
Jane gave Dick an even more pointed look. Dick’s heaving sigh was downright petulant, giving Danny a run for his money. At last, she relented. “Fiiine. But this is not helping your whole ‘I have changed’ shtick.”
Finn gave Dick’s shoulder a manly pat and sauntered over to the table, standing behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders and seemed to relax, as if he was relieved to be near me again. It was sort of flattering but, at the same time, off-putting, considering Jane’s opinion of him.
“Mrs. Nightengale, you’re the one who summoned me here. Surely you’re not surprised to see me.”
Jane’s whole character seemed to change in one roll of her shoulders. She went from the quirky, funny lady who let my son scramble all over her like a beanbag chair to a strange queenly creature, glaring across the table at Finn like he’d sunk her armada without even offering a half-assed apology. Her posture was ramrod straight. Her mouth was grim. And her voice was frosty. “I am surprised to see you, considering that I asked to see you tomorrow night. When Libby isn’t here. I think you two have already spent enough time together.”
“Really?” Finn gave me a cheeky wink. “I don’t think so.”
Oh, Oprah, I prayed, just let me sink through the floor so I don’t have to be present for this awkward conversation.
“So uncomfortable,” Andrea whispered. I bit my lip and nodded.
“Did you just not hear me when I forbade you to see your childe, or do you suffer from some sort of auditory-processing disorder?” Jane asked.
“Actually, I appealed your decision to the North American Council offices in Cleveland,” he said, handing Jane an official-looking envelope. “I offered several character references and a considerable donation. They’ve granted me conditional visitation rights.”
Suddenly, I understood how Danny felt, with the “adults” in the room talking over my head. I was pretty sure Jane and Finn were going to start spelling the big words soon. Also, why did I not know that the North American Council offices were in Cleveland?
And because he could sense conversational tension like a shark scents a distressed seal, Danny slid off his bar stool and climbed into my lap. “Who’s this?”
My son studied Finn for a long moment, then leaned close and whispered, “I don’t trust him, Mom. He’s got a bad-guy beard. He’s probably from an evil dimension.”
My first-grader knew about the Star Trek Evil Beard Dark Parallel Universe. Lord, save me from my sci-fi precocious son.
“Mr. Wade has a beard, too,” I reminded him.
“Not the same thing,” Danny insisted. “Mr. Wade’s beard goes all the way up his cheeks.”
Andrea bit her lip so hard I was afraid she would draw blood. I glanced at Jane, who threw her hands up in the international gesture of I tried to warn you.
“What is this?” Finn asked, his eyebrows arched.
“This is Danny. My son,” I said, staring at him, challenging.
Finn shook his head and in an amused tone told me, “I know he’s your son, Libby. And I know he’s the reason you wanted to be turned. I meant, what is this about a bad-guy beard?”