Free The Ex by John Lutz Page B

the blouse just before she and David had left to walk to Rico’s.
    As Deirdre approached, smiling, Molly told herself not to feel inferior. She was younger than this woman—and she was the one who had David. It was a plan, Deirdre showing up here dressed like that. It was a goddamned plan and Molly was determined not to let it work.
    But she was intimidated and couldn’t entirely deny it.
    David stood up from the table, letting his napkin slide from his lap to the floor.
    “Where’s Chumley?” he asked.
    “He sends his regrets,” Deirdre said, looking directly at David. She hadn’t yet looked at Molly. “He had to work late tonight. He’s in the import-export business, you know. Maybe his ship came in.”
    David seemed to come out of his daze. “Molly, this is Deirdre.” He stooped quickly and picked up his napkin.
    A waiter seemed to spring from the floor and pulled a chair back for Deirdre, who sat down with a calculated show of leg and cleavage. “You’re as young and pretty as David said,” she told Molly. Then to the waiter, before Molly could acknowledge the compliment: “I’ll have a vodka martini on the rocks with a lime twist.”
    The waiter nodded and retreated.
    Deirdre smiled and looked from Molly to David, waiting for conversation but not at all ill at ease. Molly told herself again not to be intimidated by this woman.
    David picked up the glass of beer he’d been drinking, then set it back down. He nervously wiped his damp fingers on his napkin. “You and Chumley seemed to be getting along well when I saw you yesterday,” he said to Deirdre.
    “Craig’s a dear. I’m lucky to have found him.” She turned to Molly. “And you’re lucky to have found David. Unbelievably lucky. Oh, he’s not perfect—and believe me, I know all about him—but I think he’s turned into a real winner.”
    The waiter returned with Deirdre’s drink. She hesitated until he was gone, then she raised her glass. “Well, here’s blood in your eye.”
    “That’s—No, never mind,” David said.
    They all sipped from their drinks while the silence at the table stretched to awkwardness.
    “Deirdre’s in the shoe business,” David finally blurted out.
    Molly stared dead-eyed at him.
    “Well, not anymore,” Deirdre said. “That is, I won’t be for long if things work out right. Craig Chumley’s offered me a job as his assistant. Everything about it sounds wonderful. I haven’t said yes yet, but I’m considering it.”
    It took Molly a few seconds to absorb what that might mean. She sat stunned for another few seconds before she could speak She glanced at David, who looked down at his lap. “But don’t you have friends, a home, obligations in Saint Louis?”
    Deirdre seemed not to notice her discomfort. “Nothing I can’t walk away from,” she said. “Of course, the cost of living’s a lot higher here in New York than it is in the Midwest. I’ll just have to sit down and figure it all out. Run it up the flagpole and see if it salutes.”
    Molly felt David’s hand come to rest on hers as he spoke. “I got the impression yesterday, Deirdre, that there was something…I mean, some affection between you and Chumley.”
    “Oh, there is. He’s a wonderful man. That’s certainly something else I’ll have to take into consideration.” She picked up a menu and studied it for a few seconds. “Is the cannelloni good here? One thing I don’t have to worry about is my figure. Not yet, anyway.”
    “All the pasta’s good here,” David told her. He ran his forefinger around the rim of his glass. “Deirdre, this is kind of a bombshell.”
    “You mean my figure?” She laughed. “No, you mean the cannelloni.”
    Molly kicked the side of David’s leg, hard, under the table.
    “What I mean,” David said, showing no sign of pain, “is that the kind of move you’re talking about is a major step for anyone to take. You seem to be doing it almost on a whim. New York can be a hard city to live