Ripple Effect

Chapter Two: ...permission slip.

Elizabeth

1:16 PM

The maître d'hôtel guided Elizabeth through the maze of tables and chairs towards one of the private booths at the far side of the restaurant. Every last seat in the dining hall was taken, and the clamour of a hundred or more voices soared to mingle with the clatter of cutlery and the clink of glasses in a cacophonous symphony that bounced off the vaulted ceiling.

"Nice of you to finally join me." Will slipped his cell phone into his inside jacket pocket.

"Sorry. This morning's been...well, hectic." Elizabeth sank into the seat opposite. She nodded when Will motioned to the carafe of water that stood next to the miniature manzanita tree centrepiece.

He filled a glass three-quarters of the way to the brim, slid it across the table towards her and then topped up his own. "Problems with the Russians?"

She paused, the glass to her lips. "Why? What've you heard?"

"Nothing, but isn't it always problems with the Russians?" He set the carafe down with a clunk that reverberated through the table. "Bravo on nearly annihilating the planet, by the way."

She opened the leather-backed menu and scanned down the list, though Blake had already printed off a copy and presented her with it as soon as the elevator doors had pinged open on the seventh floor that morning. "Do we really have to discuss that now?" She shot him a look over the rim of her reading glasses. "Or ever?" And then returned to the page.

"I just find it extraordinary that some people can devote their whole lives to saving others, and you and your cronies can destroy it within a matter of minutes. Really, bravo." And there was that smile of his, just one of the fourteen reasons why she'd had to learn to meditate.

She snapped the menu shut, and the flames of the tea lights housed in the glass orbs that adorned the manzanita tree swayed and flickered and threatened to blow out. "So, how are Sophie and Annie?" She took another sip of water, her gaze steady on Will. "I hear they've gone to London—without you."

Will's smile faltered, and though he fixed it within a fraction of a second, the glimmer in his eyes died. "Nice deflection."

She rocked forward and slid her hand towards him across the tabletop, the tablecloth rough and cool beneath the heel of her palm. But when he folded his arms across his chest and leant back in his seat, she wrapped her fingers around the tumbler instead. Too close to the bone? Or after decades of dulling the blade, was the knife not sharp enough?

"I'm serious, Will. Why didn't you go with them?"

"Excuse me, sir, ma'am." A waiter stepped up to the booth. "Are you ready to order?"

"Perfect timing." Will handed the waiter his menu. "Yes, I think I'll have the salmon."

The salmon? Elizabeth did a double take. "Wait, what?" She turned to the waiter, one finger raised. "We're going to need another minute."

"Of course, ma'am." The waiter bowed his head and then backed away again and hovered near the wait station.

Elizabeth lowered her voice to a hiss. "The salmon? You hate salmon."

"Correction: I hate salmon done badly."

"When have you ever had salmon that you've considered done well?"

"I can order the salmon if I want to order the salmon." Will held her gaze, each word pronounced like a challenge.

For one long minute, they were kids again, squaring up across the monopoly board. Hey! That was five spaces, not four. / I thought you were meant to be good at math, but you can't even count. / You started on Atlantic Avenue, which means you landed on 'Go to Jail'. / No, I didn't. I started on Ventnor Avenue. / Mom, he's cheating! / Am not! / Are too!