TAKING A DEEP BREATH while silently promising herself she’d kill him slowly with a staple remover and a letter opener when they returned to the office, Grace stood and faced the diminutive woman with as much composure as she could muster. “Mrs. Maxwell? I’m Grace Cooper, a former student of your son’s.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Grace. Please, call me Darcy. Coffee? Hot tea? Soda?”
“Hot tea would be amazing.” Grace was drawn in by Darcy’s warmth and guileless smile.
Justin rose and followed his mom across the narrow aisle and around the counter, sweeping her into a huge bear hug. How such a tiny woman had birthed and raised the tall, muscular man left Grace completely flummoxed, particularly when he spun Darcy around, feet off the floor.
“Put me down, you big oaf.”
“You wound me, Ma.”
“I’ll get my pie server and show you wounded.” Darcy wiggled out of his arms. “Cream with your tea?” she asked Grace calmly as she tucked stray strands of hair into her chignon.
“Please.”
“She gets ‘would you like cream with that’ and I get the boot?” Justin grabbed Darcy again and laid a loud kiss on her cheek. “I’m your son, Mom. Your son.”
“You’re a pain in the ass is what you are,” she groused good-naturedly, slipping away to efficiently fill a mug with hot water and retrieve a tea bag. She spun away, moving swift and sure to pick up a called order, refill coffee mugs and set Grace’s tea in front of her even as Justin returned to the booth.
Grace rolled the Earl Grey tea bag between her fingers. She hated Earl Grey but didn’t have the guts to ask Darcy for something else. “You don’t have to look at the menu?” she asked Justin.
“She’d only abuse me with it,” Justin called over his shoulder before focusing his attention on Grace with a grin and shake of his head. “I’ve eaten everything on the menu at least once, so I’m familiar with all of it.” He shuddered. “Even the meat loaf.”
“My meat loaf’s the best, kid,” the cook called from the kitchen pass-through.
“Your meat loaf has lamb in it. Lamb does not go in meat loaf, Shamus.”
“It does if you’re Irish.”
“I’m definitely more of, you know, a Fifth Avenue and Sycamore Street kind of guy.”
“Still a smart-ass.”
“Always a smart-ass,” Darcy interceded, setting a cup of coffee in front of Justin before stroking a hand down his hair. “So how’s the first day as Dr. Maxwell going?”
Justin answered and their banter continued as Grace stirred her tea, the diners’ voices creating white noise for her rambling mind. She’d been stunned senseless the moment Justin whistled at Darcy. This little microuniverse could have come straight from one of her childhood daydreams, one where she’d grown up loved and cherished and part of a family. People looked forward to seeing her. She would have given anything to be part of this...this...soundstage. That’s what this was. A soundstage. It left her waiting for the laugh track and cued commercial breaks.
How could this exist right in front of her and yet be so far out of reach?
“Grace?”