Dale looked from Parker to his cell phone. Then he picked up the phone and began to key.
Parker’s cell dinged, announcing a text.
Dale: What the fuck is that bitch doing here?
Parker smiled then texted back.
Parker: Damned if I know. She’s fucking with my appetite. The good thing is, I don’t think she recognized us.
Dale: Why do you think I’m texting you? I didn’t want to take the chance she’d recognize our voices. That message was accompanied by an eye-rolling emoji.
Parker: Well, let’s pretend we didn’t see her, either, and just eat our lunch. Then we’ll leave as soon as we’re done.
Dale: Good idea.
Parker returned his attention to his steak. The food was damn good, and Parker really enjoyed the potato. As he ate, he fought a grin. He felt a bit ridiculous, playing this game. But sometimes, and with some of the Benedicts, pretending ignorance was not only the best defense, it was the only defense.
He thought of the woman sitting behind him and of some of the despicable things she’d done over the last couple of years. No wonder Cord and Jackson don’t come around anymore. In fact, over the last few years, every one of Norah and George Benedict’s kids had fled to Texas, where they’d married and settled down.
He couldn’t blame them, though he did feel sorry for his Uncle George.
Proving his brother was on the same mental page, Dale texted him.
He read the message.
Dale: Gotta feel sorry for Uncle George. Feel sorry for the cousins, too. I mean, Dad’s a bit of a bastard, and our big brother is right there with him, but neither of our folks are as bad as Norah.
Parker: Agreed.
More movement caught his attention, and he surreptitiously glanced at the well-dressed woman who came into the restaurant. He put his head down and hoped, again, that Dale caught his cue.
It didn’t surprise him when she was shown to the same table as their Aunt Norah. The booth jostled slightly as their aunt’s best friend, Elizabeth Maxwell, took her seat.
Parker set down his fork and knife and met his brother’s gaze. One look, and he knew Dale was thinking the same thing he was.
For that society maven to lower herself to a place like this, something was definitely up. And Parker was willing to bet it wasn’t anything good.
Mrs. Maxwell ordered a Crown and coke. So far, neither woman had said a word of greeting.
Moments later a waiter brought both their drinks and left.
“All right, I’m here, Norah. What’s this all about?”
“I thought you’d like to know I’ve come up with the perfect plan—a way for us to each get our own back against those fucking Benedicts.”
Parker still had his cell phone in hand. He activated the camera, reversed the lens and switched to video. He saw his own face, panned it to show the surroundings, including Dale.
Then he slowly and gently slid farther into the seat, toward the wall. He held his cell in his left hand until he was holding it so that it was just past the edge of his seat. He hadn’t known if this would work, but as soon as he saw his aunt’s sour face on the phone’s screen, her narrowed gaze focused on Liz Maxwell, he mentally breathed a sigh of relief.
“You’re one of those ‘fucking Benedicts,’ Norah. Of course, George is divorcing you. Or is that already a done deal? How do you plan to get him back, and why should I care?”
“We haven’t settled the money yet because he’s being a prick, as usual, and not giving me a tenth of what I deserve for all the bullshit I put up with all these years. But I know a way to fucking beggar the bastard, to ruin him, and then I’ll own that fucking ranch. And I can damn well guarantee you what I have planned will practically destroy those whelps of his, too.”
Dale’s eyes widened, and Parker knew how he felt. How could a mother talk that way about her own children?
It wasn’t just her monstrous attitude that pissed Parker off. Norah wasn’t being very discreet or quiet in her vitriol. Likely, the two women were meeting here because this restaurant was so far away from their usual stomping grounds, and so far beneath them, that they were certain no one they knew could possibly be here.
“All right. You’ve roused my curiosity. What’s your plan?” Liz asked.
“I’ve got an appointment with my lawyer in three days. I’ve been acting emotional for the last month with the guy, and he’s convinced that I’m hiding something. On Thursday, I plan to break down and confess how George molested the kids—the girls, certainly, as well as those two little bastards, Jesse and Barry. Of course, it’s all a big lie, but you can bet your ass I’ll do a damn good job of convincing him it’s true—and then, I’ll leak the whole fucking story to the press.”
“You think anyone is going to believe that, coming from you?”
“Have you not been paying attention to the news, lately? All you have to do anymore is accuse someone of sexual misconduct…and then sit back and let public opinion do the rest. Those fucking bastards won’t know what hit them.”
Liz Maxwell didn’t say anything for a long moment. “It might go over better if we can come up with a young woman who’d be willing to testify against him, says he did her, too. I can pay for that. When the shit hits the fan, you can tell George you have a witness who’ll come forward, unless he stops fighting and gives you everything you want. That would clinch it.”
“I like the way you think, Liz. It’s just like old times.”
“I’m not doing this for you, Norah. When this is over, we’ll still
