Irwin Lawrence started to make his way over to greet Lyman Etheridge, but one sharp look from Lyman stopped him in his tracks.
Left with no choice, Irwin forced a casual, awkward smile and pretended nothing had happened.
Old Mrs. Lawrence swept over, her face glowing with delight as she greeted Effie Bagnold and Lyman. Her eyes lingered on Lyman, taking his measure, and she nodded approvingly. “Well, aren’t you the picture of a gentleman.”
Lyman greeted her politely. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Lawrence. I’m Lyman. My wife and I are here today to celebrate your birthday and wish you health and happiness for many years to come.”
He handed her a box. “We brought you a small gift.”
The moment Mrs. Lawrence glimpsed the elegant bag in Effie’s hands, her smile grew even wider. “You’re very thoughtful. Zenith Aroma’s perfumes don’t come by easily.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Effie replied warmly.
Mrs. Lawrence beamed. “Alright now, don’t just stand around—please, everyone, take your seats.”
Lyman leaned toward Effie. “So, this was your surprise?”
Effie nodded, glancing up at him for a reaction, but Lyman’s eyes were unreadable—his expression gave nothing away.
She explained quietly, “I overheard you and Mr. Hoffman mention your project’s been held up, and that it had something to do with Mr. Lawrence. I thought I might be able to help.”
She’d expected him to be pleased, but… it didn’t really show.
Maybe sensing her disappointment, Lyman squeezed her hand beneath the table and said, “Thank you. I’m happy.”
Effie blinked. Happy? This was his happy face?
She’d never realized happiness could look so stoic.
But she didn’t have long to dwell on it; Mrs. Lawrence was already serving Effie some food, piling her plate with warm hospitality.
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