“She heard him say something he
shouldn’t have, and she called him on it.”
“Oh, this just gets better and better,” Arrowroot said. Guillaume
was still fuming at the end of the hall, watching them, and Arrowroot
flashed a smile the Frenchman ignored. “What did he say?”
“Okay,” Danielle said, drawing in her breath, “I’d rather you
hear it from me than your new girlfriend. He told Stephan he was out
with me and my father. He used the words ‘ bourgeoisie’ and ‘ ignare’ to
describe you, which basically means he called you an ignorant rich
man. And then Tamani plays all innocent. He hangs up and she repeats
what he says, ignare and bourgeoisie, just the way he said it, and
then she’s just, like ‘What did those words mean? Why did you say them
about Daddy?’ And she keeps calling you ‘Daddy!’”
Danielle made fists, pointed her toes together and scrunched her
face in disgust. “Ackkk!”
Arrowroot let out a booming laugh in reply.
“Oh, that’s just too much,” he asserted, looking down the hall.
“Guillaume! Guillaume!”
Guillaume started and took a few paces away from Arrowroot, as if
he were about to run away.
“Boy, come on back,” Arrowroot bellowed, striding down the hall.
“C’mon, we got a girl sitting alone in a wedding dress, and dinner on
the way.”
Guillaume froze. Arrowroot reached him, clapped him on the
shoulder and took his hand. “Ignorant rich man?” he asked. “That the
best you can do?”
Guillaume issued a flat, humorless laugh.
“Okay, how about this one?” Arrowroot said. “You’re an arrogant
bastard from a country that doesn’t know how to fight, who takes his
damned phone calls in the middle of dinner. There, now we understand
each other.”
Arrowroot laughed again, strode back up the hall and waved his
daughter and Guillaume forward, holding the door of the Mace and Helm
open for them. They glanced at each other sheepishly, as if Arrowroot
had caught them kissing in his living room, but they followed him back
through the door.
As they reentered the restaurant, a disconcerting number of
people looked up at them, Arrowroot noticed. All strangers tonight,
part of a technology convention from out of town, probably, but it was
safe to assume they knew who was dining with the disheveled girl in
the wedding dress. So the fact they were staring told him to fear the
worst as he looked for Tamani at the table across the room.
And there she was.
“Oh God no,” he said to no one. “Oh, damn.”
Chapter 11: Invitation to a Wedding Girl
Dinner had arrived, and Tamani was attacking her meal with her
bare hands, alternating between clumps of green beans and wads of
mashed potatoes. Her salmon was gone, and the delicate orange pecan
butter sauce that glazed it had run down her chin, past her neck and
down to the top of her dress.
They’d brought bread and butter and she’d apparently devoured all
of that too – without benefit of knife, judging from the shine on her
knuckles. There were crumbs around her mouth and on her nose, and a
pecan piece that had somehow ascended to her left eyebrow.
Arrowroot was torn between sitting down to dinner and leaving –
going back to his truck, driving back home and settling the bill over
the phone on Sunday.
Danielle, however, better prepared for mothering perhaps than
Karl Arrowroot would ever be, stepped quickly over to Tamani, found
the girl’s napkin, still wrapped around her silverware, and began
applying it to the mess around her mouth.
Tamani looked as confused as ever, frowned and closed her eyes,
but did her best to cooperate.
The glaze had dried in places and wasn’t coming off, so Danielle
dipped the napkin into her water, dabbed for a minute and then leaned
back to regard her work.
“Oh my god,” she said, looking over at her father, as if a
thought had suddenly occurred to her. “This isn’t an act, is it?”
Tamani stared quizzically.
“You’re really like
shouldn’t have, and she called him on it.”
“Oh, this just gets better and better,” Arrowroot said. Guillaume
was still fuming at the end of the hall, watching them, and Arrowroot
flashed a smile the Frenchman ignored. “What did he say?”
“Okay,” Danielle said, drawing in her breath, “I’d rather you
hear it from me than your new girlfriend. He told Stephan he was out
with me and my father. He used the words ‘ bourgeoisie’ and ‘ ignare’ to
describe you, which basically means he called you an ignorant rich
man. And then Tamani plays all innocent. He hangs up and she repeats
what he says, ignare and bourgeoisie, just the way he said it, and
then she’s just, like ‘What did those words mean? Why did you say them
about Daddy?’ And she keeps calling you ‘Daddy!’”
Danielle made fists, pointed her toes together and scrunched her
face in disgust. “Ackkk!”
Arrowroot let out a booming laugh in reply.
“Oh, that’s just too much,” he asserted, looking down the hall.
“Guillaume! Guillaume!”
Guillaume started and took a few paces away from Arrowroot, as if
he were about to run away.
“Boy, come on back,” Arrowroot bellowed, striding down the hall.
“C’mon, we got a girl sitting alone in a wedding dress, and dinner on
the way.”
Guillaume froze. Arrowroot reached him, clapped him on the
shoulder and took his hand. “Ignorant rich man?” he asked. “That the
best you can do?”
Guillaume issued a flat, humorless laugh.
“Okay, how about this one?” Arrowroot said. “You’re an arrogant
bastard from a country that doesn’t know how to fight, who takes his
damned phone calls in the middle of dinner. There, now we understand
each other.”
Arrowroot laughed again, strode back up the hall and waved his
daughter and Guillaume forward, holding the door of the Mace and Helm
open for them. They glanced at each other sheepishly, as if Arrowroot
had caught them kissing in his living room, but they followed him back
through the door.
As they reentered the restaurant, a disconcerting number of
people looked up at them, Arrowroot noticed. All strangers tonight,
part of a technology convention from out of town, probably, but it was
safe to assume they knew who was dining with the disheveled girl in
the wedding dress. So the fact they were staring told him to fear the
worst as he looked for Tamani at the table across the room.
And there she was.
“Oh God no,” he said to no one. “Oh, damn.”
Chapter 11: Invitation to a Wedding Girl
Dinner had arrived, and Tamani was attacking her meal with her
bare hands, alternating between clumps of green beans and wads of
mashed potatoes. Her salmon was gone, and the delicate orange pecan
butter sauce that glazed it had run down her chin, past her neck and
down to the top of her dress.
They’d brought bread and butter and she’d apparently devoured all
of that too – without benefit of knife, judging from the shine on her
knuckles. There were crumbs around her mouth and on her nose, and a
pecan piece that had somehow ascended to her left eyebrow.
Arrowroot was torn between sitting down to dinner and leaving –
going back to his truck, driving back home and settling the bill over
the phone on Sunday.
Danielle, however, better prepared for mothering perhaps than
Karl Arrowroot would ever be, stepped quickly over to Tamani, found
the girl’s napkin, still wrapped around her silverware, and began
applying it to the mess around her mouth.
Tamani looked as confused as ever, frowned and closed her eyes,
but did her best to cooperate.
The glaze had dried in places and wasn’t coming off, so Danielle
dipped the napkin into her water, dabbed for a minute and then leaned
back to regard her work.
“Oh my god,” she said, looking over at her father, as if a
thought had suddenly occurred to her. “This isn’t an act, is it?”
Tamani stared quizzically.
“You’re really like
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