Princess (American Princess #1)(23)
Author: Courtney Cole

Sydney felt her knees go weak and she slid into the nearest booth, breathing deeply.  The exchange with her mother felt good in a strange sort of way- a sort of relief.  But she also felt insanely sad… that she didn’t have normal parents or a normal life. This wasn’t the way family was supposed to be.

Marge gripped her shoulder, appearing out of nowhere.

“Sydney, are you alright?”

Her rough voice was hesitant and as soft as Sydney had ever heard it.  She looked up to find Marge’s wrinkled face peering over her shoulder in concern.  She felt a rush of warmth for this crusty old woman because she hardly ever showed her gentle side.  In fact, Sydney hadn’t even known that she had one.  When she had first started, Marge had instantly disliked her.  She had been afraid that Sydney would take all of the tips.

“I’m okay.  Thanks,” Sydney murmured and then smiled at her.  Marge hugged her shoulders lightly and awkwardly.  Sydney could easily tell that this type of situation made Marge uncomfortable and she was all the more grateful to her because of that.

“Family is hard, I know.” Marge shrugged as though she was thinking of her own.  “If you need anything, let me know.”

She squeezed Sydney’s hand and then tottered off, leaving a scented trail of aerosol hair spray and cigarettes behind her.  Sydney gazed after her absently, replaying the scene with her mother in her head.

What had her mother really expected her to do?  Move home and then what?  It wouldn’t make any difference.  It wouldn’t change anything.  Unless… they thought that she might leak the information.  The realization dawned on her abruptly.

They thought she was going to tell.  Truthfully, the thought had never crossed her mind.  She was pissed off at them, but she didn’t want to completely trash her parents’ lives.

“Is this seat taken, Miss?”

She looked up to find Stephen standing over her.  She had been so distracted that she didn’t even notice the tinkling of the bells over the door when he walked in.

“Not any more.  My mother just vacated it.”  She grinned wryly at him, trying to downplay the anxiety that still coursed through her veins.

“Seriously?”  His chocolaty brown eyes searched her face for confirmation. “Are you alright?”  He was instantly concerned and she felt warmth flood through her. The chatter of the diners around them faded out of her mind until all she could see what his handsome face in front of her.

“Seriously,” she confirmed.  “And my mother knew.  About my dad, I mean.  She’s probably known all along.  She’s a piece of work.  She told me that I had to come home and I told her no and she left.  I think they think I’m going to tell someone.”

“Are you?”

“No.  I have no reason to do that.  Maybe the American public deserves to know the truth about him, but they won’t hear it from me.”  She absently played with the clean flatware lying on the table in front of her. 

“You’re a good person, Sydney Ross.”  He reached across the table and grasped her small hand.  “Want to go out for dinner tonight?  Somewhere other than here?”

He glanced around as he spoke, taking in the cracked vinyl booth seats and the crooked owl clock on the wall. The owl’s googly eyes were facing in two separate directions, its yellow beak faded. 

“Where did you have in mind?  I have about $20 bucks so far in tips.”

“That won’t be a problem.  I sold my novel today and I’m getting an advance!”

His grin lit up his face and she sucked in her breath.  He was incredibly handsome and she had not gotten used to it.  She doubted that she ever could.  She jumped up and flew into his arms, hugging him tightly against her.

“Congratulations!  I knew you would do it!”

She inhaled him as he cradled her within his arms- too tightly for a public place, but for once, she didn’t care.  It was hard to let go of old habits, even when there was no need to constantly be aware of public opinion anymore.

It was a wonderful feeling. She briefly considered streaking down the street just because she could, but decided against it.  That might be going overboard.

“So, my lady,” Stephen said, stepping backward and bowing dramatically low.  “Where would you like to go?  Your chariot awaits.”  She glanced out in the parking lot and saw his T-bird parked right out front.

“Hmm.  You’re the novelist.  Aren’t you supposed to have a good imagination?  You choose!”  She kissed him on the cheek, then turned.  “I’ve got to clock out. I’ll be right back.” 

He watched her walk through the swinging doors into the kitchen and it wasn’t a second later before Marge rushed over to him, speaking hurriedly and glancing over her shoulder, presumably to watch for Sydney.

“Stephen, I don’t know what is going on, but it isn’t good.  Someone keeps calling here, asking for Sydney and then when we go to get her, they hang up.  Like they don’t really want to talk to her, they just want to know if she’s here.  I haven’t told her because that little girl’s got enough to worry about.  But someone should know.  It doesn’t feel right.”

“You haven’t told her?”  He watched her wrinkled face as she shook her head.

“It hasn’t really started bothering me until the past couple of days.  The first few times it happened, I didn’t think too much about it.”

“How many times has it happened?”

“At least a dozen over the past couple of weeks.”

“When was the last time?”

“Today.  Maybe an hour ago.”

“Do you know the voice?”

“No.  It’s a man- sounds like he is middle-aged.  Definitely not a boy.”

Stephen watched Sydney push through the kitchen doors again and smiled back at her gently when she grinned at him from across the room. He could tell from her face that she was tired.  As much as she would like to deny it, she was still recovering from the accident.

“Thank you for telling me, Marge.  Let’s not tell her, okay?  You’re right. She has enough to worry about.”  He smiled at her and she smiled back, patting him on the shoulder.