Page 53 of Menage a Passions
“That one escapes me, but I am not much one for horror.” Jane blessed her lucky star that the route home was clear. She wanted to do some work at home to take her mind off being alone.Well, I’ve got the squirt, but it’s not the same thing.The most Jane and Cecelia did together was eat dinner and drive around in the car. “If you plan on being back by eleven, I’m sure it’s fine. Do you need a ride?”
Cecelia assured her that her friend, who was sixteen and had her license, would come by to pick her up and bring her home later. Nevertheless, she asked for the friend’s address and phone number in case there was an emergency. Jane wasn’t surewhatthat would be, but one could never be too sure anymore.This isn’t my day in Hong Kong when we left the bloody house when we felt like it.Most of the time, Willow had no idea where any of her children were once they were teenagers.
Jane shuddered to think of it now.
She was in the middle of work when Cecelia announced she was leaving. Jane waved her off, dithering between heating something in the microwave for dinner or ordering in. Then she jumped back into her work, balancing spreadsheets, going over the meeting notes Rebecca had taken that week, and completely losing track of time. The sun had long set when her stomach finally growled.That’s rare in itself.Jane rarely got hungry enough for herstomachto protest.
She grabbed her keys, went down to the parking garage, and drove to a local Italian bistro to treat herself to a solo dinner while texting with Rebecca and Caitlyn, who had met up at the lake house in Iowa.
“Wish I was there with the two most beautiful ladies in the world,”Jane texted.“You know what to do, Cait.”
She added a winking face and put down her phone, sighing. If only she could have gone with them.But no, have to watch this kid who is going to school.
The only reason she thought of Cecelia was because she saw a girl who looked like her at the front counter, picking up takeout.
But that couldn’t be Cecelia, because she was at a female classmate’s house watching horror movies. Cecelia would not – could not – be wandering around at night with a boy who looked old enough to be her uncle.
Let alone with their arms wrapped around each other.
Let alonestealing whole snogs while waiting for the waitress to return with their takeout.
What the bloody hell?Jane strained her head to get a better look at the girl who couldnothave been Cecelia, even though they were the same height, carried the same prominent Wong genes, and had the same haircut that Cecelia had gone out and procured as soon as she landed in America. Then again, it was hard to tell with some stranger boy’s face all over hers!
Jane leaned back out of sight when the waitress returned with the takeout bag, commanding the amorous couple’s attention. She picked up her phone and texted her niece an innocuous question about when she planned on being home because Jane felt like going to bed early that night.
Sure enough, the girl’s butt buzzed up front. While the girl who totally-couldn’t-be-Cecelia checked her messages and groaned in annoyance, Jane’s face twisted into the kind of look she knew she had never made before in her life.
But her mother had. Multiple times.
Be calm. Play this cool.Unlike her mother, Jane knew how to handle this situation. Or, at least, she knew better than to rush up and catch Cecelia in a lie. Also, who the hell was this boy? Where was Perry Merryweather? Granted, Cecelia said nothing about him after homecoming, but…
Jane had a bad feeling. Part of her thought it best to leave well enough alone and trust Cecelia to come home on time, probably smelling of a teen boy’s aftershave.Assuming he’s in high school.Jane couldn’t tell with American boys. Some of them still looked like babies in high school, and others looked old enough to have seen two tours of war.
This one had facial hair. That was way too old for Cecelia! Even if he was the same age!
She thought about texting Caitlyn, but what would she do? Who the hell could she even call on for help in this situation? Ironically, the only person who might know what to do was Lilian, but she wasn’t here. She wasn’t even on the same continent.Worse help than Cait.Jane bit her lip and tried to forget about it. This wasn’t her daughter.
But itwasher ward.
After fifteen minutes of dithering, she paid her bill and slipped out of the restaurant, convinced that Cecelia hadn’t seen her. She had yet to receive a text response. But Jane did have the supposed friend’s address in her phone and decided to take matters into her own hands.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Cecelia’s friend was only a few blocks away, living in a large townhouse by the marina. After finding a parking space nearby, she conjured the courage to go up and ring the bell, all while trying to come up withanystory that wouldn’t make her look insane in front of her niece and all the friends who were totally, absolutely, 100% watching movies and nothing more.
She wasn’t surprised that a maid answered the door. What did surprise her was the face Jane instantly pegged as Malay.
“Selamat patong,” Jane greeted, instantly throwing the maid off guard. The faster they built a rapport, the better.I’m grateful for my Malay nannies growing up.Jane wasn’t fluent, but she knew enough to make the maid feel at ease and understandwhere someone like Jane Wong might be coming from. “I’m here looking for my niece, Cecelia. Do you speak Mandarin?”
The maid made a gesture indicating she spoke alittleMandarin, but English was better.
“Is she here?” Jane asked.
The maid looked behind her before answering. “There is a girl named Cecelia here, yes.”
“Is she visiting a girl from school? Watching movies?”
“She is in the upstairs room watching a movie, yes.” The maid looked down, lips curling in indecisive worry. “With Mr. Manfield.”