Chapter 4: Dinner With Cordelia

The Draper house sat behind iron gates, and Bryony was wearing a cream blouse with a flour stain on the cuff.

"You look fine," Holbrook said in the car.

"I look like I came from work."

"You did."

"Your grandmother is going to hate me."

"She hates everyone for the first hour."

The door was opened by a butler, and the dining room held a table for twelve with three places set.

At the head sat a very small woman in pearls, with a silver-headed cane hooked on her chair.

Cordelia Draper looked Bryony over from the top of her tied-back hair to the toe of her work shoes.

Then she smiled, and it was a warm, wicked smile.

"A baker," she said. "Sit. I haven't had a new face at this table in ten years."

Bryony sat.

"I'm sorry about the lobby," she said. "And the lounge."

"I watched both. Don't apologize. I haven't enjoyed an afternoon so much since my husband died."

"Grandmother," Holbrook said.

"Hush. Bryony, what do you make?"

"Bread, mostly. Pastry. Cinnamon rolls on Saturdays."

"Do they sell?"

"We run out by eight."

"Good," Cordelia said. "Never trust a baker who doesn't run out."

The soup came, and for ten minutes it was almost easy.

Then the door opened, and a man in a navy suit strolled in with a drink in his hand.

He had sandy hair and an expensive watch, and he was smiling the whole way across the room.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Traffic. And I had to see the viral bride for myself."

"Lyle," Holbrook said.

"Cousin." Lyle kissed Cordelia on the cheek and sat down opposite Bryony. "So you're the one."

"The one what?"

"The one who got a billionaire to marry her in an afternoon. I'd like to know how. I've been trying to marry money for years."

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