Worst Case by James Patterson Read Free Book Online Page B

hugest dining room tables she’d ever seen, and set with china, no less. How did they manage that? Looking at the faces of the kids finding their seats, she thought of herself and Olivia eating Lean Cuisines at the kitchen island in her silent town house. Could this be more different?
    They all folded their hands together and closed their eyes as the priest led them in saying grace.
    “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty through Christ our Lord, amen,” the sweet old man said. “Now pass the gravy!”
    She didn’t just see that, did she? The setting looked like a lost cover of The Saturday Evening Post , only it was real. The only time she ever had a home-cooked meal like this was on Thanksgiving at her dad’s house.
    The last thing Emily had expected when she was called on special assignment this afternoon was that she’d be eating dinner with some crazy, enormous, happy family. She couldn’t wait to call her daughter and tell her all about them.
    She shook her head as she caught Mike’s eye at the head of the table.
    “And a cat, too?” she said.
    “Ah, he’s just another loafer,” Mike said. “Like the priest.”

Chapter 18
    AFTER WE ATE, all the kids lined up to say good night to Emily.
    “It was indeed a pleasure to meet you,” Trent said, still hamming it up. “And good night, Father. Do sleep well.”
    “Oh,” I said, tickling him hard enough to make him squeal. “Do sleep well yourself, Sir Hamlet.”
    When we were finally alone, I poured Emily the last of the wine and gave her the short version of my life story. I told her about Maeve, my wife. How we’d adopted our kids, one by one, until we turned around one day and saw that we had ten. I even told her how my wife had passed away. How Mary Catherine and Seamus and I struggled to keep the wheels from falling off.
    “But enough about me,” I said, getting that off my chest. “Fair’s fair. It’s time for you to give me the vitals on Emily Parker.”
    “There’s not much. I have one daughter. Olivia,” she said, taking a picture out of her bag.
    “A cutie,” I said, leaning in close to Emily to see the picture. Like her mother, I almost said. It was amazing how comfortable this was starting to feel.
    “How old is she?” I said instead.
    “Four.”
    “The only age we don’t have in this house,” I said. “What are the odds?”
    Mary Catherine came in with two plates and caught us laughing.
    “Mary, that isn’t what I think it is, is it? Apple pie?” Emily said.
    Mary Catherine dropped the plates loudly on the table.
    “I left the stove on,” she said, quickly turning around. “ Will that be all tonight, Mr. Bennett?”
    “Sure . . . that’s fine, Mary,” I said, a little confused.
    When the kitchen door closed, I lifted the picture of Olivia off the table.
    “So, where’s Olivia’s dad?” I said. I put the picture down. Wow, did I just say that out loud? Real subtle there, Mike . “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”
    “No, it’s okay. Olivia’s dad is in, um, California. We’ve been divorced two years now. We met in the air force. John was a little rough around the edges, but he was loving and funny and a brilliant natural mechanic. I always thought of him as the impulsive yin to my everything-in-its-place yang.
    “In the beginning, everything was fine. John ran the service department of the Bethesda Mercedes dealership as I got promoted up through the ranks of the Bureau. It was hectic, of course, juggling two jobs and then Olivia, but we were a team, a real family. Then, two days after Olivia’s second birthday, John announced he needed to redefine himself.
    “First came the tats and the piercings, and then finally, without my knowledge, the purchase of a body shop in California with most of our joint savings.”
    “Ouch,” I said.
    “Yeah, ouch is the word. JonJon’s Rods does custom hot rods for all the stars now, GTOs, Shelby Cobras.