Daisy Tucker and Mr. NYC novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: Sunday Table

Amos Hargrove's dining room had a table for twelve and a chandelier.

Eight of the chairs were full.

The chairwoman sat at the far end in her pearls.

Three men from the board sat along one side, with napkins tucked into their collars.

Simone sat across from me in a dove-gray dress, with her phone face down by her plate.

Rhodes was beside me.

Under the table he held my hand in a grip that hurt.

The soup had come and gone.

Nobody had said anything important.

That was the trouble with rich people: they could eat for an hour around a knife.

At the head of the table sat an empty space with no chair.

Then the doors opened and Rhodes's grandfather came in.

A nurse pushed his wheelchair.

He wore a green cardigan, with a napkin already on his lap.

He looked thin, and ten years older than the man I had met on the sidewalk.

His eyes were exactly the same.

"Don't get up," he said. "Nobody get up. Sit. I haven't had a dinner party in nine years, and I'd like to enjoy one."

"Amos," the chairwoman said warmly. "You look wonderful."

"I look like a plucked chicken, Madam Chair. Thank you."

He found me with his bright blue eyes and winked.

I almost cried into the bread.

Simone waited until the plates were cleared.

Then she touched her napkin to her lips, and I knew.

"Amos," she said. "Before dessert, there's a matter I feel I must raise. Not for myself. For the company."

"Mm," said Amos.

"This marriage. I don't wish to upset you, but the board has questions about how it came about."

Keep reading free with an account. Start Daisy Tucker and Mr. NYC from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.