Billionaire Completes My Bucket List novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Two Tables Away

Dinah takes her mother's locket off her work friend's neck in front of the dining room, and a driver arrives with a summons from Jasper's grandmother.

Lyle crossed the room before I could put down my spoon.

He still had her hand in his, and then he noticed that and dropped it.

"Dinah," he said. "Dinah, what is this?"

I took my time wiping my mouth with the napkin.

My work friend stood two steps behind him, in the red flats, with her arms crossed over her chest.

Around her neck, on a thin chain, hung my mother's gold oak leaf.

"This is dessert," I said. "I'm having it first."

"You're wearing a ring."

"I am."

"You told me yesterday you were dying."

Three tables stopped talking.

"I did," I said. "And then I got engaged, Lyle. Isn't that something?"

"In one day?" His voice cracked upward. "Who is this guy?"

Jasper rose from his chair without any hurry.

It took a while, because he was so tall, and Lyle's head tipped back to follow him.

"Jasper Holloway," Jasper said. "I'm her fiancé."

Lyle knew the name.

I watched it land on his face, the hotel signs and the building we were sitting in.

"Holloway," he said. "Like the Holloway Grand."

"Like the Holloway Grand," Jasper agreed. "Dinah, would you like me to stay or go?"

"Stay," I said. "You're about to see the thing I've been looking forward to."

I walked around the table and stopped in front of my work friend.

She was twenty-seven, and she had held my hair back at the Christmas party two years ago.

"That's mine," I said.

She touched the locket, and her eyes went wide.

"Dinah, I borrowed it. I was going to give it back."

"You took it off my bathroom shelf."

"I didn't know you were really sick," she said. "I swear. Lyle said you were being dramatic."

I looked at Lyle.

He found something interesting on the floor.

"Hold still," I said.

I reached behind her neck and undid the clasp.

My fingers were steady, which surprised me, because my stomach was in my throat.

The chain slid off into my palm, still warm.

I closed my hand around it.

"This was my mother's," I said. "She wore it to my father's funeral, and she gave it to me the day I moved out."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I know you are," I said. "That's the worst part."

Lyle grabbed my wrist.

"You can't just humiliate us in front of everybody."

His fingers were tight and wet with sweat.

"Let go," Jasper said.

He did not raise his voice.

He did not move toward us, either.

He simply stood there, a head taller than every other man in the room, and said it again.

"Let go of her."

Lyle's hand fell away.

"You'll be sorry," he said, but it came out thin. "You think a guy like that stays? Everybody knows what happened to his last two."

"Everybody does," Jasper said evenly. "Go home, Lyle."

"Leave," I said. "I'm not finished with you, but this isn't the place."

"You're finished when I say," Lyle began.

The maitre d' was suddenly at his elbow, with two waiters behind him.

"Sir," the maitre d' said, "I'm afraid the table you reserved has been given to another party."

"That's ridiculous. We just sat down."

"Mr. Holloway's guests have first call on the room," the man said. "Please, this way."

They walked them out together, past the fountain and the low gold lamps.

My work friend looked back once, her face wet.

Lyle did not look back at all.

I sat down, opened my hand and looked at the oak leaf.

Then I put the chain over my head, and the little gold leaf settled against my breastbone where it belonged.

The room went back to its soup and its silverware.

My hands started shaking all at once, and I put them under the tablecloth.

Jasper sat across from me and slid the burnt-sugar custard an inch in my direction.

"Item seven isn't done," he said. "He's not the one who gets the whole speech."

"No," I said. "He gets the whole speech when I'm ready."

"Then eat. You have another one to go."

I ate the rest of the tart.

My eyes stung, and I didn't mind, because it was lemon.

The maitre d' came back as we were finishing, with an envelope on a small silver tray.

"For Miss Larkin," he said. "From Mrs. Holloway."

I looked at Jasper.

He looked as startled as I did.

"I haven't told her anything," he said. "I haven't even called."

I opened the envelope.

Inside was a card in a tiny, forceful hand.

"Supper tonight at seven. Bring the card with the list on it. A."

"How does she know about the list?" I asked.

The maitre d' bent his head.

"Mrs. Holloway has had my loyalty since 1994," he said. "A list that starts with dessert is the kind she asks about."

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