“A stuffed one,” she qualified. “It hit me on the head.” Her hand went back to her hair, which she’d more or less managed to straighten.

Thom could picture the scene—two grown women acting like five-year-olds fighting in a schoolyard. Once again, he struggled to hide his amusement. His mother had tried to give him the impression that she was an innocent victim in all this, but he strongly suspected she’d played an equal role.

“I think I might be getting a bruise on my cheek,” she said, peering closely into the small compact mirror. She lowered it and angled her face for him to get a better look.

“I don’t see anything,” he told her.

“Look harder,” she said.

To appease her, he did but saw nothing. “Sorry,” he said and reached for his overcoat. “Ready for lunch?”

“I’m starving,” his mother told him. “You know how hungry I get when I’m angry.”

He didn’t, and felt this was information he could live without. The Rose Garden was only a block from his office, so they decided to walk. His mother chattered the whole way, reliving the incident and her outrage all over again, embellishing it in the retelling. Thom listened politely and wondered what Noelle would think when she heard her mother’s version of the incident. He quickly pulled himself up. He didn’t want to think about Noelle; that was something his self-esteem could do without.

As he’d expected, The Rose Garden bustled with activity. Christmas was only a few days away, and shoppers taking a welcome lunch break now filled the restaurant. Thom glanced about the room as they were waiting to be seated. He recognized a few associates, who acknowledged him with nods. Two women sitting by the window gave him an appreciative glance and he warmed to the attention. That was when he caught sight of another pair of women.

Noelle and her younger sister, Kristen. Wouldn’t you know it? He nearly groaned aloud. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in ten years and yet in the last three days she seemed to turn up every place he went.