My cell phone rang while I was putting the laundry away, and I debated whether I wanted to answer or not. When the caller ID told me it was Claudia, I decided I should take it.

Turned out it wasn’t Claudia, it was her secretary. Claudia was stuck in important meetings all afternoon, but she wanted to meet with me. Her secretary asked me if seven o’clock at Bookbinder’s would fit into my schedule.

I was momentarily speechless. I wasn’t officially working for Claudia, so could this actually be considered a business meeting? It seemed not, and yet surely she wouldn’t have tasked her secretary to make her social arrangements. And surely she wouldn’t have assumed I could afford to eat at places like Bookbinder’s at the drop of a hat. I really wanted to ask the secretary who’d be paying for this meal, but I figured that would be kind of tacky.

In the end, I agreed to the meeting. If I ended up having to pay, at least I’d be getting a first-class meal out of it. And if I didn’t have to pay, it would be a free first-class meal. Yeah, yeah, typical me, thinking with my stomach.

I gathered from Claudia’s secretary that she would be coming straight to dinner from work. I figured I should try to dress a little businesslike to put her at her ease, but I didn’t own anything appropriate for a boardroom. I decided on a pair of white pinstriped pants that might have looked like business wear if they hadn’t ridden so low on my hips, paired with a metallic silver tank top that dipped low enough to show some pretty serious cleavage. I looked more like I was going clubbing than going out to eat at a fancy restaurant for business, but it was the best I could do. I hadn’t even come close to replacing the extensive wardrobe I’d lost in the fire.

The Old Original Bookbinder’s is located near the Delaware River and is either a first-class seafood restaurant, or a tourist trap, depending on whom you ask. When I was a kid, every time we had someone come visit from out of town, there’d be a requisite trip to Bookbinder’s for a lobster dinner. It used to be there was another restaurant called Bookbinder’s on Fifteenth Street. They both billed themselves as being the “original” Bookbinder’s, and my dad would regale visitors with stories—possibly more urban legend than history—about the bitter battles between the two for the right to use the name. The one on Fifteenth Street—which was “original” because it was owned and operated by the original Bookbinder’s family—is gone now, but the one by the riverfront—which is “original” because it’s the location of the original Bookbinder’s restaurant—is alive and well.

I arrived before Claudia and tried to keep myself from staring at the huge lobster tank. When I was a kid, I’d always been fascinated by the lobster tanks, where customers could handpick which lobster was going to die to feed them that night. At the time, I didn’t really make the connection that those bright red crustaceans that appeared on our plates were the same dark, drab creatures that crawled around in those tanks. Now that I knew better, I felt sorry for the poor, doomed things. Yeah, I’m a tough broad all right—with a bleeding heart.

Claudia arrived at quarter after seven, full of profuse apologies. She had indeed come straight from work, where one of her meetings had run late. I silently praised my own wisdom in choosing a job that would let me set my own hours. I didn’t make the kind of money Claudia Brewster did, but at least I had as much free time as I wanted. Or I used to, before I became the demon king’s human host.

“So, what’s the occasion?” I asked Claudia once we were seated and our drink orders were placed. I didn’t know her well enough to be sure, but she seemed a bit nervous. That didn’t do my own nerves much good.

She smiled at me a bit sadly. “I really appreciate you looking into Tommy’s case for me. I wish you’d let me pay you, but since you won’t, I thought I’d at least buy you a nice dinner. You can order anything you want.”

Well, that answered the question of who was paying. But I didn’t think it answered the question of why she’d called this meeting.

I could have pressed her for more information ASAP. That would be my usual MO. But despite her spiffy gray power suit and her confident corporate facade, I sensed she was brittle underneath. Tact and diplomacy aren’t usually my strong suits, but my instincts were telling me to back off, and I usually listen to my instincts.

Claudia ordered a lobster, probably as an additional signal that it was okay for me to do so as well. She declined the opportunity to go to the tanks and pick her victim. Even if the tanks hadn’t bothered me, I’d never dream of ordering lobster at Bookbinder’s. All around me, well-dressed businesspeople, dating couples, and families wore the embarrassing bibs they put on you when you ordered lobster. None of them seemed the least bit uncomfortable about how silly they looked, but I’d have been self-conscious the whole night. Of course, you didn’t have to wear the bib, but somehow it felt a little like cheating to refuse it.

I managed not to laugh when they put the bib on Claudia. I think the struggle showed on my face, because her eyes twinkled a bit and her lips lifted in a hint of a smile.

“I haven’t been here in years,” I said, feeling the need to make small talk even though I sucked at it. “I think we came here for every special occasion I could name when I was growing up, so I kind of burned out on the place.” I realized that could be taken as a complaint and felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment. I should really keep my mouth shut.

Luckily, Claudia didn’t take offense. She grinned, and it was almost an impish expression—or maybe it just looked impish because the stupid bib was hiding the power suit. “Were you a chocolate cake kid or a strawberry shortcake kid?” she asked me, and I laughed.

Bookbinder’s has the most ginormous desserts I’ve ever seen, and ordering that slice of chocolate cake the size of my head had always been the highlight of eating here when I was a kid. “Chocolate all the way,” I answered. “I was crushed when they stopped serving it.”

“Me, too. Tommy always liked the shortcake, though. And he always managed to eat the whole thing without even being sick afterward.” Her smile wilted a bit at the memory.

I’d never thought of myself as socially awkward. Abrasive, and maybe even bitchy, but not awkward. Claudia was making me reassess myself. It occurred to me that even before my life had gone to hell, I’d spent very little time with female friends. There’d been Valerie, who turned out not to be a friend at all, but most of the other women I’d known when I was younger now had husbands and young children. I’d never exactly fit in with the mainstream crowd, but I’d never felt quite so far on the outside as I did now.

I really had to settle this thing with Adam and Dom. Messing up my sleep schedule was having a negative impact on my mood. In an effort to snap myself out of it, I fished out an oyster cracker from the jar on the table, then scooped out a tiny bit of horseradish from the condiment tray and dabbed it on the cracker. I popped it into my mouth, and the stinging bite of the horseradish cleared my head better than smelling salts.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said when I could talk again, “why did you and your husband adopt Tommy? Given his past, he must have been quite a handful.”

Claudia took a dainty sip of the fancy French wine she’d ordered before answering. “I was in a very bad accident when I was twenty-two,” she said. “The damage was extensive enough that I’ll never be able to have children of my own.” She swirled the wine around her glass, looking kind of lost. I wished I hadn’t asked, but before I could think of a graceful way to change the topic, she continued.

“When my husband and I decided to adopt, we both agreed that we’d take in a child who’d be hard to place instead of going on a waiting list for the perfect baby. We fostered several children before Tommy came into our lives, but when he did. . we knew he was meant to be ours. It sounds corny, I know, but there you have it.” Again the sad smile.