The Might Have Been by Joe Schuster Page B

moving it toward her mouth slowly. “This really is quite good,” she said. “You should try some, Mother. Miss,” she called to the waitress who was pouring coffee at the next table. “Would you bring another of these for my mother?”
    “Yes, madam,” the waitress said.
    “Technically, it’s mademoiselle,” Estelle said.
    “Oh, Estelle,” her mother said. “Now is not the time.”
    “It never is.”
    “What about your sister?” her mother asked.
    “My sister will be fine. She’s all well and married. Mrs. John Ogden. He’s an attorney,” Estelle said in Edward Everett’s direction. “She married quite well. Vanderbilt. Law review. Order of the Coif. He’s an associate right now, but his father is senior partner and so it’s in the cards for him.”
    “Estelle, I don’t understand why you’re doing this to us.”
    “Mother, just go back to the reception. Enjoy yourself. Just say, ‘She’s Estelle.’ That’s always been enough of an explanation.”
    Edward Everett became aware that the diners at the nearby tables had stopped their conversations and were listening intently to thetwo women. He wondered if he should get up and leave Estelle and her mother in what passed for privacy in such a public place.
    “Estelle, please.”
    “No, Mother. I am going to finish my very nice meal here with Mr. Everett and then—and then, I don’t know where the evening might take me.” She gave Edward Everett another wink.
    “I’m sorry,” her mother said. “I don’t know—Mr. Everest?”
    “Ever-ET,” Estelle said. “Not like the mountain. Like the city in Washington.”
    “Mr. Everett, I don’t know what pull you have with my daughter, but, could you?”
    “Leave him out of this, Mother.”
    “Maybe I should go,” Edward Everett said, extending his good leg to snare his crutches so he could draw them out from under the table.
    “And leave me with the check?” Estelle said. “I see your plan.”
    “No. I can just sign …” Edward Everett lifted his hand to signal the waitress.
    “I was being funny,” Estelle said, touching his raised arm, and he lowered it. “Please stay.”
    “Who—” Estelle’s mother said.
    “Mr. Everett is a serial murderer,” Estelle said.
    “Mr. Everett, I don’t know anything about you, but my daughter—”
    “She didn’t believe me,” Estelle said. “Tell her.”
    “I’m not a serial—” he started to say.
    “Estelle,” her mother said sharply. “This has to stop now.”
    “No,” Estelle said. “The only thing that has to stop is the scene you’re making. We were perfectly enjoying ourselves until you came in. Please go. Please give Alicia my love. Tell her that I hope she and Jack will have many happy years.”
    Her mother gave a sigh, shook her head. “The Ogdens will wonder what sort of family they have married into.”
    “It’s not like they can wrap her up and take her back to the store. It’s a no-deposit, no-return deal.”
    “I can’t go back and face those people.”
    “Yes, you can, Mother. Courage under fire. That’s the motto.
Courage sous le feu
. Remember?
Sous le feu
.”
    “This is just making Frank’s decision—”
    “Leave him out.” Estelle banged her palm on the table, rattling the dishes and toppling Edward Everett’s wineglass. Only his quick reflexes kept it from tumbling onto the floor and shattering.
    “Is there a problem?” the hostess said, approaching the table.
    “Estelle, one last time.” Her mother’s tone was pleading now. She began wringing her hands in a gesture that he imagined might have been the same one she used in Estelle’s story about the
International Herald Tribune
and the Louvre.
    “The last time?” Estelle said. “Good. Then we’re finished.”
    Her mother opened her mouth as if to say something but instead sagged as if she had been staggered by an actual physical blow, turned and left, a little unsteady on her feet. After a moment, the silence that had descended on