As the heading says, this scene discloses Quinn’s actual dinner with his mother and Gregor.
I pulled up to the curb in front of the Tudor in Great Falls and set my phone to etiquette mode before I gathered up the gifts and the wine, got out of the car, and jogged up the walk.
Mother answered the door. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart.” She learned up and kissed my cheek
“How have you been, Mother?”
“Fine, and you?”
“Never better.” Well, actually… but this was hardly the time to bring up the contretemps with my publisher.
“Come in.”
I entered the foyer and handed her the bottle of wine.
“Thank you, sweetheart. This will be perfect. I’m glad the wine is already slightly chilled, since dinner is almost ready. Will Mark be joining us later?” Of course she’d noticed I was alone.
“I’m afraid not. Work.”
“I’m sorry, but we all know how that is. What’s this?” she asked as I handed her the tiny shopping bag that contained the box that held the little dish.
“A souvenir from New York. And this is for Gregor.” I held up the other box.
“That’s so kind of you. We can join Gregor in the kitchen, and you can give him his present. He was afraid if he left dinner unguarded, Miss Priss might help herself. We’ve discovered she has a weakness for shrimp.” She gave me an amused look.
I couldn’t help chuckling. The cat was usually very well behaved.
“How is Miss Priss?” Mark had given Mother the kitten who was part Maine Coon for Mother’s Day a couple of years before.
“She’s doing very well. In fact, we were thinking of adopting a brother or sister for her.”
“Well, if we’d known that, Mark and I would have given you another kitten for Mother’s Day.” Although now that I thought of it… “Would you mind if we give one to Gregor for Father’s Day?”
“Oh, sweetheart, that would be a lovely thought.”
“I’ll let Mark know.” We had almost a month to find one, and we’d take the opportunity when Gregor was out of the house to see if it would be compatible with Miss Priss.
We entered the kitchen, and Gregor turned from the cooktop, smiling. “Hi, Quinn. Where’s your other half? He’s back in town, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but he won’t be able to come today.”
Gregor’s smile broadened, and he rubbed his palms together. “Excellent.”
I grinned myself and shook my head. I didn’t have to wonder why he and Mark couldn’t seem to get along. Gregor had never forgiven my husband for somehow managing to erase the security tapes when he’d presented himself to Mother and Gregor as Skip Patterson, an old school friend from my Phillips Exeter days.
I patted Gregor’s shoulder. “I brought you something to ease your disappointment.” I handed him the box of dominos which was covered in plain brown wrapping paper.
“What’s this?”
“I asked the same thing, dear one,” Mother told him. “It’s a souvenir from Quinton’s trip to New York.”
His face flushed. “Thank you, Quinn. Shall I wait until dessert to open it?”
“Sounds good.” “Okay.” He grabbed a pair of oven mitts, stooped to open the broiler, and withdrew a tray of sizzling shrimp.
“You said we were having shrimp scampi?”
“Yeah, although what’s the point now if Vincent won’t be here?”
Mother chuckled and pinched his chin, then turned to me. “The table has already been set, sweetheart. Would you mind opening the wine?”
“Not at all, Mother.”
**
It was a pleasant evening. The food was excellent, as it always was—Gregor was a skilled cook—almost as good as his cousin Nik, who was a professional. The wine was as perfect as I’d hoped it would be. For dessert, along with brandy and a rich, dark coffee, he’d produced a raspberry biscuit with a raspberry mousse and crème brûlée center, topped with a raspberry glaze.
I mentioned a little about how my publisher wanted me to rework the main character in A Woman Not to Be Crossed.
“Why?” Mother asked. “I should think readers would find it refreshing to have a strong female lead.”
“The editor thinks otherwise.”
“Ms. Conroy? She struck me as smarter than that.”
“No, they want to fob another editor off on me. He… er… vomited all over my shoes Saturday evening.”
“You didn’t mention this yesterday,” Gregor complained.
“It must have slipped my mind,” I said mildly.
“Do we want to hear about it?”
“There really isn’t much to tell.” I shrugged. “He drank too much and the result was he threw up.”
“Well, keep your main character strong.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Gregor took a final bite of his dessert, then couldn’t wait any longer, reached for his gift, and tore the paper off it. “Pretty box, Quinn.”
“Open it.”
He let out a low whistle. “These are… they’re beautiful.”
“Something for you and Mother to amuse yourselves with.”
He turned scarlet, and although I hadn’t meant to embarrass him, I bit my lip to prevent a laugh.
“Open yours, Mother.”
She removed it from the little shopping bag and unwrapped it with more restraint than Gregor had shown. “Oh! How pretty.”
“It’s the color of your birthstone and birth flower.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. This will be perfect to hold our rings and the pendant Ludovic gave me.”
I’d noticed she’s stopped wearing her wedding ring, but both she and Gregor wore Claddagh rings. I was so pleased they had found someone with whom to spend their… golden years.
