Born of Deception by Teri Brown

gruff, but . . .”
    “You’re joking, right? She was absolutely nasty to me.”
    He opens the door for me and then shuts it. Hard.
    He can’t be serious.
    “Were we even in the same room?” I wonder when he climbs in.
    “I think you’re overreacting just a bit. She’s basically harmless . . .”
    “She’s as harmless as a piranha. What about the things she was saying to you?”
    “What things? Oh, you mean about being a detective? That’s just the way she is. She’s had a harder life than you would think. My grandfather died when my father was very young and she raised the children by herself. She was devastated when my father died in the war.”
    I press my forehead against the cold window. Yes, it must have been so hard raising three children by herself in that rich house with all those servants.
    He places his hand on my shoulder and I turn my head to look at him. “My grandmother will warm up to you, and my mother already loves you. I can tell.”
    He gives me such a reassuring smile that I can’t help but smile back. He starts the car and pulls away from the curb and I study his strong profile in the waning light. His Homburg is tilted ever so slightly on his head and the sharp clever planes of his face are filled with character. But in reality he was raised by nannies and tutors and in boarding school and privilege. Yes, he lost his father and was stranded deep within enemy territory while at school during the Great War, but as horrible as that was, he has never gone without food or shelter. I’ve done without both. Right now, the chasm between us feels insurmountable.
     
    The next morning, I pull out the slip of paper Calypso gave me the day of our outing and telephone her at her boardinghouse. Luckily, she’s free and we arrange to meet after my rehearsal. I don’t want to spend the day alone, worrying about the stiffness that seems to have sprung up between Cole and me. I already spent a fitful night worrying about the strange episode I had at his house, which he neglected to ask me about. Then I lay in bed and worried why he hadn’t asked me about it. He knew something was wrong. Had I offended him, speaking that way about his grandmother? Then I worried about that, too. There seemed to be no end of the things to worry about, so I decided some lighthearted fun with a friend is just what I need.
    Anything is better than moping about the hotel waiting for Cole to get in touch with me.
    Calypso is in the lobby when I get back from the theater and greets me with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad you rang me up,” she says, her dark eyes pensive. “I’m worried about Pratik and don’t want to be by myself.”
    “I didn’t want to be by myself today either, so I guess it was meant to be. Has anything else happened?” I ask.
    She shakes her head. “No. I just started thinking about his disappearance and then I couldn’t stop. I hardly slept at all.”
    I tilt my head. Her normally lively spirit is considerably dimmer and dark circles lie heavy under her eyes. She looks as exhausted as I feel and I link my arm with hers. “You know what my best friend once said? That there is nothing that ails one that can’t be made considerably better by a piece of delectable chocolate cake. Do you know of a handy bakery?”
    She gives me a smile. “I knew you would make me feel better. There’s one over by where I live that may have just what we’re looking for.”
    Both of us are still dressed for the cold, in wool coats and dark hats, so we simply turn around and head back out. We take the tube to St. Charles stop and I’m amazed at how clean it seems to be compared with New York’s subway. When we emerge, the rain has picked up and we huddle under her large black umbrella watching the water cascade down its sides.
    “We’ll have to get you your very own umbrella,” she says. “It’s practically a rite of passage, you know.”
    “Yours is plenty big!” I tell her, marveling at its