I wasn’t expecting that. But it would be interesting to watch her try. I shook my head and stepped forward, taking her hand.
Okay. Good. No surprises.
Although it may have helped if I told her one more detail before I brought her here. But it was too late now.
I spotted the man at his usual table with his back to us. Since I never acknowledged the man as my father, I didn’t bother introducing him as such. Nor would I ever give the old bastard the credit.
“Sorry I’m late,” I called when we reached the table. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.”
My father straightened in his chair and turned as I pulled Isabel beside me. “Isabel, I’d like you to meet Ron Brightman.”
Isabel froze. The woman didn’t extend a hand or utter a single word. If anything, she just looked…ill.
Ron must have caught the strange behavior too; his smile faded and his brow rose slightly.
“Isabel, are you alright?” I touched her arm.
She turned to me slowly, her eyes glassy and her mouth slightly open.
“Of course. Where are my manners?” Ron stood. “Isabel, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand.
Did my father just stand for someone? The man didn’t get up or move much foranybodyhe didn’t know or care about.
Isabel returned with a very weak shake and an even weaker smile. “Mr. Brightman. A pleasure, of course,” she said.
“Please call me Ron,” he offered and lifted his head slightly.
Isabel stared for a moment before straightening her back and lifting her head.
She glanced at me and turned back to Ron. “I apologize. It must be the crowded room. It’s um…making my head spin a bit.”
I relaxed. “Please sit, have some water.” I pulled out a chair for her from the round table and waited for her to sit before settling next to her.2
“Ron and I like to meet here to talk about… business…and other things every few weeks. The menu here is terrific.”
A waiter approached. “Can I get your drinks?”
I turned to Isabel. “Bloody Mary or mimosa?”
“Oh, neither. Thank you.”
“Nonsense. She’ll have a bloody,” Ron snapped his menu shut. “And I’ll take one as well, and please be sure to bring a second when I’m about this much through.” He pointed halfway down his water glass.
Isabel caught herself mid-eye roll and I laughed to myself. My father was not a man to be ashamed of his precise demands.
“What kind of business are you in, Ron?” Isabel asked, her eyes still on her menu.
The kind that I ran to the ground. Are the words Ron should say, but instead, I waited for my father’s usual response.
“Oh, I don’t want to spend a lovely day talking about work—Scott, we should order a plate of the smoked salmon bruschetta, I think your guest would love them.”
Isabel scoffed. “Do you always make selections for people you’venever met, mister—sorry, Ron?”
Now that was more the woman I thought I’d brought with me today. I smiled to myself.
“Apologies my dear. Of course, you have a mind of your own.”
“Actually, I do want to talk a little bit about business, Ron,” I started.
