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Donna Monahan is… well, nothing like her husband.
She’s warm and kind, full of smiles and hospitality. Her friends, too. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised. Max must have gotten it from somewhere.
I excuse myself from the group to go refresh my drink, scanning the room for Max and Thad. They’re gone, strangely, but I can’t imagine they’ll be gone for long.
“Are you having a good time?”
I spin away from the bar, smiling at Donna’s infectious grin. “Yes,” I answer. “Thank you again. This means so much to Max.”
“You’re very welcome, dear.” She stands beside me, her hands gently folded in front as she performs a hostess-look around the space. The crowd has thinned a little since we arrived, a few having gone home after seeing Max. Others linger outside on the lawn, listening to the quartet in the bright summer sun, but there’s still plenty of people scattered around the sitting room.
“Name your price.”
I look at Donna, confused. “I’m sorry?” I say.
Her eyes grow sharper as her smile stays fixed between her cheeks. “Name your price, Ms. Pink.”
“I… don’t understand what you’re asking me.”
“How much will it cost to make you leave my son?” she asks plainly.
My smile falls. “Mrs. Monahan, I—“
“My husband has offered Max everything under the sun to get him to come home to no avail,” she says. “Clearly, if I want something done right, I must do it myself. So…” Her glare burns. “Phoebe Pink, how much is it going to cost me to get you out of my son’s life for good?”
I hesitate, feeling sick to my stomach.
“Smile, dear,” she says, her own toothy grin still prominent. “You don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people, do you?”
I force a smile. It hurts. “Ma’am, there is no price,” I say. “I love Max with all of my heart.”
She scoffs. “Well, we all know that’s not true. From what I’ve heard, you have plenty of room in that heart of yours for whoever gives you attention.” She tilts her head. “Let him go, Ms. Pink.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“I know what’s best for my son,” she says, her voice now sharp as glass. “If he won’t do what’s right, then I’ll have to force his hand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Smile, dear,” she reminds me.
I don’t, my lip quivering instead.
“Well, well! Isn’t this a charming duo?”
It takes me a moment to place his voice, but as I do, an icy chill crawls down my spine. I turn, coming face-to-face with the stunning blue eyes of Rutger Hemsley. Thad’s absent father.
“Rutger, darling!” Donna greets him. “We thought you’d never show.”
“I got a little hung up at the office, Donna,” he says, adjusting the cuff on his jet black suit jacket with his spare hand, the other holding a fresh glass of what smells like bourbon. Must be his favorite. “You understand. Work is work.”
“Yes, of course.” She gestures toward me as if our conversation in-progress never happened at all. “I assume you’ve met Phoebe?”
“Oh, of course,” he says, smiling at me. “How are you, Ms. Pink?”
