owning your own business. You can take off anytime you want.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“Good afternoon, ladies,” the fifty-something woman said when they walked in.
“Hello,” the sisters said.
“Will it be just the two of you?”
“Yes,” Camille answered.
“Then right this way.”
Paige and Camille followed her to their table.
“Will this be okay?” the woman asked.
“This will be fine,” Paige told her, pulling out her chair.
When they sat down, the hostess set menus in front of them and said, “Your waitress will be right with you.”
Camille hung her leather tote on the back of her chair. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the woman said. “Enjoy.”
Paige scanned the area. “I love this place. Such great food.”
“I know. I do, too.”
“So, how are you?”
Camille’s demeanor slightly changed. “Not good.”
“I could tell something was wrong when I called you this morning.”
“Well, first of all, two more email messages came from William last night, and even worse, they were in response to two messages that were sent from my account. And this time I actually saw all four of them.”
Paige frowned. “Are you serious? But you never saw any of the others, did you?”
“No. So I’m not sure what that’s about.”
“Did you tell Pierce about them?”
“No, of course not. But I did call this computer expert, who sometimes works with the police, to see what he could figure out.”
Paige kept her composure but was also a little nervous. “And?”
“They could see that the outgoing emails actually were sent from my computer, but they couldn’t tell where the incoming messages were being generated from.”
“Then I can see why you’re so frustrated.”
“No, but it’s more than that.”
“What?”
“Pierce called me this morning, saying that there was no sense in my lying anymore because he now knew for sure I was having an affair. Even said he had proof.”
“Proof? What kind of proof?” Paige asked, but knew his proof had come from her when she’d lied and said Camille was messing around on him.
“I begged him to tell me, but he wouldn’t.”
“That’s insane.”
“Tell me about it, and I feel so defeated. I’m so tired of defending myself and pleading with him to believe me.”
Paige held Camille’s hand. “I’m sure you are, and I just wish there was something I could do,” she said, repeating the same words she’d told Pierce last night before hanging up with him. They were such caring words, and she could tell from the look on Camille’s face that she believed they were genuine.
“I know you do, and I love you for that,” she said, squeezing Paige’s hand. “But there’s nothing anyone can do as long as Pierce believes what he believes.”
“If you want, I can try to talk to him again.”
“That’s up to you, but at this point, I don’t think anything is going to matter unless I can clear myself.”
“Well, then that’s what we’ll have to work on. Finding out who really did this to you guys.”
Tears rolled down both sides of Camille’s face.
“Honey, please don’t cry,” Paige said.
Camille wiped the water away with both hands, and a young man walked up.
“Hello, ladies. I’m Jason, and I’ll be your waiter.”
“Hi Jason,” Paige said.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking at Camille.
“Everything’s fine,” Paige answered.
“Then can I get you something to drink?”
“We’ll have two lemonades.”
“Coming right up. Also, just so you know, our specials for today include a fabulous tuna croissant, a chicken Caesar salad to die for, and a ten-ounce ribeye with creamy garlic mashed potatoes.”
“Sounds good,” Paige told him.
“Actually, we can order now if you want,” Camille said, and Paige closed her menu.
“Sure. I’ll have the chicken Caesar.”
“And I’ll have the tuna croissant.”
“That was easy,” the waiter said, smiling. “I’ll get your order
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
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Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham