Lola

[Damon]

Lola isn't quite the sort of place Calden would pick. He seems comfortable enough -- relaxed, dressed down in his usual denims and flannels, not at all agog at the artistic little morsels on those shining white plates -- so it's not that this place is too classy for him or too modern or simply too expensive. Still, left to himself he would likely have chosen something a little ... meatier. Perhaps one of those steakhouses his ranch exclusively supplies: one of those swanky, edgy downtown establishments with those deliberately exposed brick walls, that brushed-steel lighting, the smell of charred meat and smoke in the air.

Lola is, however, exactly the sort of place Calden would have suspected Eva Illeshazy to frequent. Pricy. Sleek. As much about presentation as it is about food, with menus full of unexpected adjectives and a page or two of biographies at the back: their 'executive chefs', their 'organic sustainable sources'. He tells her as much as they meet over the table, his hand shaking hers while that bracelet slides down her wrist. This is exactly the sort of place I would've thought you'd like.

She suggests the ultimate bloody mary. He takes her advice, pairs it with a smoked salmon ciabatta. They exchange pleasantries; Calden bursts into laughter. Riding lessons. "I guess it should've been obvious she was up to something when she kept insisting she wanted real boots," he says. "When's her birthday? I'll get her a pair of spurs, but she has to promise not to use them 'til she can control a horse with her knees."

A little later, their food arrives, and the waitstaff withdraws, and the conversation turns toward the main topic. Calden doesn't say much, mostly listens, eats. Asks a question now and then to clarify. Doesn't touch the bloody mary until Eva's done with her story, until his sandwich is down to the last quarter, until they've both leaned back in their chairs.

Then he sips at it, eating meat off the skewer between drinks. "Sounds like things could get messy down here," he says. "I think I'll stay up north. But if you can pass word on that I'm ready and willing to help, I'd appreciate it. I've got family all over the state, and a couple of them might even be useful. I've got plenty of open land and spare rooms too if anyone needs to hole up for a few days."

A wry pause.

"And cattle. Plenty of that too, though I'll be damned if someone figures out a way to make 'em useful in a secret war."

*

The meal is finished. Eva pays with cash -- or she starts to, but Calden stops her. He's old-fashioned; still carries enough cash to cover a meal. If she argues, which wouldn't surprise him a bit, they end up splitting the bill. As they're walking out to their cars, she asks him about concealed-carry; he tells her he doesn't even own a handgun. Her assistant will fax him forms. She suggests a decent semiautomatic or three. He promises to check them out, and then --

"Eva," he says, as she's turning to pull open her car door, "thanks. And what I said earlier goes for you too. If your family needs to get out of town for a while, give me a call."