Things Happen That Way

by Tinnean

  “Yeah, babe.”

  And when Linda Eder belted out the line about kissing and seeing it was time, he tipped up my chin and kissed me.

  Chapter 4

  Before I had to leave Mark’s condo to meet Mother the next morning, I curled my hand around his neck, drew his head down, and kissed him one last time. At six foot three, he was five inches taller, but that never proved to be a problem. Our lips had no trouble meeting.

  Prior to having Mark in my life, I’d always felt that kissing was pleasurable but overrated. He was the one who said I should be kissed long and often, and by someone who knew how. And that certainly was Mark. His kisses could be unbelievably hot; they could be surprisingly tender—although this was something I’d hesitate to tell the former senior special agent of the Washington Bureau of Intelligence and Security; there were times when they were almost desperate; but they never failed to make me want more.

  However, we were going out to the parking lot where we could be seen, and although some strides had been made in the acceptance of gay men, they weren’t enough that I’d chance some homophobic bigot starting a scene because the public display of affection was between two men instead of a man and a woman. If they were that stupid, then obviously the gene pool needed to be cleansed, but Mark was supposed to fly under the radar. If the WBIS learned he’d been jailed for disturbing the peace because of a CIA officer, he could well lose his job. And he did love it.

  I’d been surprised when he’d admitted he would walk away from it if Trevor Wallace, the man who ran the WBIS, refused to back him up against those senior directors who were like a burr under his saddle.

  Still, I preferred that it be his choice and not something into which he was forced.

  He opened the coat closet in his entryway and took out his charcoal gray bomber jacket.

  “You don’t have to accompany me, you know,” I told him.

  “I know.” He slanted a grin in my direction.

  Just then, my cell phone rang, the sweet notes of the “Flower Duet,” indicating it was Mother on the line. I took the phone from my pocket and hit the send key. “Good morning, Mother.”

  “Good morning, Quinton. I hope I’ve caught you before you dressed for our ride?”

  “Mmm,” I murmured noncommittally.

  “I’m sorry to call at such short notice, but would you mind if we canceled our ride for today?”

  “I hope everything is all right?” It wasn’t usual that she’d cancel within an hour or so of our ride, and suddenly I was worried. After that “accident” last fall, she’d needed a pin in her hip and weeks of physical therapy, and while she’d resumed her everyday activities, I still worried that her hip might give her problems.

  “Everything is fine, sweetheart. I’d like you to join me at Charmaine for brunch.”

  “Oh, yes?” We’d had brunch there before—their food was amazingly good—on those Sundays when Gregor was out of town visiting his sister. “Certainl—Mother, are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you, Quinton, but I assure you I’m quite well.” There was almost a bubbly quality to her tone. “I’ll call Ian and let him know we won’t be taking the horses out today.”

  “All right, then, I’ll meet you there in about three quarters of an hour.”

  “That will be excellent. Thank you, sweetheart. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I hung up.

  “Everything okay, Quinn?” Mark asked. He was aware of how I tended to worry over my mother. I’d wondered, since he was who he was, if he’d sneer and mock me for apparently still being tied to her apron strings, but he was impressed by her—I had a feeling he was more familiar with her past than I was—and never ridiculed me for my feelings.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. Mother just wanted to let me know we won’t be riding today. I’ll need to change. She wants me to meet her at Charmaine. I’d have asked if you cared to join us, but I know you’ll be busy.”

  He closed his hand around the back of my neck and gave it a light shake. “Thanks for the thought.”

  We went back into the bedroom, and he helped remove my boots. As I stripped off my jacket, jodhpurs, and fitted shirt, he went into the closet and selected clothes that were more suitable for brunch.

  “Leave your stuff where it is. I’ll take care of it later.”

  “Thank you, Mark.” Within a matter of minutes, I was ready to go.

  While I slid my arms into my jacket, Mark concentrated on unlocking his front door and then locking it behind us.

  We walked down the stairs, through the lobby and out into the March morning.

  It was cool and cloudy, and while most times we’d enjoy the stroll to where I’d parked my car, wanting to extend our time together for as long as we could, today we had no choice but to hurry.

  Mark had laughed when I’d chosen the Jaguar Racing Green XKR convertible. “Jesus, babe,” he’d said when we learned just how long it was going to take to be delivered. “Another foreign car?”

  “It wasn’t the Lexus’s fault.” And then I was sorry I’d brought it up, because his face darkened.

  “Son of a bitch,” he’d snarled. “I should have dealt with Holmes myself and not left it to your uncles!”

  The former DCI of Threat Analysis had coerced someone at the auto dealership to meddle with the maintenance schedule in an effort to drive me further into exhaustion. It was all part of the ambitious Senator Wexler’s plan to get me out of the picture so he could have Mother.

  None of it had worked, and the “accident” that followed resulted not only in my car being totaled, but in Mother being hospitalized, in a coma.

  Thanks to Mark, Wexler had eventually paid for it—was still paying for it, confined to a hospital bed, tethered to machines that had to breathe for him, feed him, remove the waste from his body. I’d never struck myself as being particularly vindictive, and perhaps I should have been shocked by what Mark had done to him, but Mother had suffered for what Wexler had planned for me. I couldn’t have been more pleased with the results.

  I shook those thoughts away when Mark griped, “Next time we’re doing things my way.”

  I always got a tight sensation in my chest when I realized he expected us to have a future.

  Damn any observers! I caressed my lover’s cheek a final time before leaving to drive to Charmaine.

  Charmaine was a nice little restaurant, and when the weather was warm enough, tables were set up outside to enjoy the spring sun. Unfortunately, today wasn’t one of those days.

  I went inside and approached the hostess. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, sir. Table for one?”

  “No, I’m meeting my mother, Portia Mann.”

  “Ah. If you’ll come this way?” She led me through the dining area to a secluded spot near the windows.

  Gregor was sitting beside Mother, fiddling with his menu and leaning toward her and speaking in a low tone. He gave a start when he saw me, but then stiffened his shoulders and rose to his feet.

  That was… odd.

  The hostess drew out a chair and smiled at me. “Chris will be your server. Enjoy your brunch.”

  I smiled and thanked her, and she returned to her station.

  “Quinton, thank you so much for agreeing to cancel our ride at such short notice.”

  “Not at all. I hope it’s not because you aren’t feeling well.” I bent and kissed her cheek, and she enveloped me in a hug.

  “I already told you. I’m fine, sweetheart.” She whispered in my ear, “I’m more than fine!”

  “Oh?” I squeezed her hand gently, removed my jacket, and hung it on the back of my chair.

  “I’m sorry Mark isn’t with you. I should have asked you to bring him.”

  “That’s quite all right. He had some business and would have been unable to join us anyway.”

  “I’ll bet,” Gregor muttered.

  “Mark said to say hello,” I told Mother, then turned to Gregor,
who was shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It’s good to see you, Gregor. Mark sends you his best also.”

  Gregor growled, and I swallowed a smile.

  “You’re well, I hope?” I shook his hand and sat down, a little surprised when he remained on his feet.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, not a—You don’t mind that I’m joining you, do you?”

  “Why would I?” I’d known him my entire life, and after Father had been killed in that Air India crash in ’78, Gregor had become one of my surrogate fathers, along with Mother’s brothers.

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  “Gregor, sit down, please,” Mother murmured, and he finally sat, just as a young man came bustling up to us.

  “Good morning! I’m Chris, and I’ll have the pleasure of serving you today.”

  “Good morning to you, Chris.” Mother smiled at him, and he smiled broadly back at her, which didn’t surprise me in the least.

  He placed a basket of sticky buns on the table and raised a carafe. “Will regular be all right, or did you want decaf or tea?”

  “Regular will be fine,” Gregor answered for all of us.

  “All righty, then.” Chris turned over our coffee cups and filled them. “There’s half-and-half and cream on the table. If you’d like skim, I’ll be happy to get it for you.” That last was directed at me.

  “Thank you, the half-and-half will be fine.”

  “Did you want the buffet?”

  “Quinton?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, we’ll order off the menu,” Mother informed Chris.

  “Okie dokie.” He rattled off the specials, stealing glances at me all the while. “Now, can I start you off with a Bloody Mary or a mimosa?”

  “I’ll have grapefruit juice on the rocks,” Mother said.

  “Me too. If that’s okay?” Gregor glanced at me and flushed. He was acting peculiar today.

  “Just the coffee will be fine for me.” I smiled at Chris. Color rose from his Adam’s apple to his hairline, and I blinked.

  “Are you sure? Our Bloody Marys are scrumptious. We serve them with shrimp, cucumber, and a green olive stuffed with bleu cheese.”

  “As delicious as that sounds, I’ll have to say no.”

  “How about the mimosa? You can have your choice of juices! You name it, we’ve got it.” He began ticking them off on his fingers. “We have mango, peach, lemonade, strawberry, grapefruit...” He smiled at Mother. “... pineapple, pomegranate, cranberry.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Why was he pressing me to order a drink? “No, thank you, Chris.”

  “Are you sure?” He looked as if I’d taken away his favorite toy. “Well, then, look over the menus while I get the drinks, and then I’ll take your order.” Chris gave me a final glance before hurrying off.

  “I blame Vincent for this!” Gregor groused. “No one ever tried to pick you up before him.”

  “That you’re aware of.”

  His jaw dropped. “Seriously? You’ve let guys pick you up?”

  “Years ago, and it wasn’t a matter of letting them. It was I who picked them up.” How did we get onto this topic? “Really, Gregor, he’s much too young for me.”

  “He looks like he’s in his midtwenties.”

  “Yes?”

  “Quinn, there can’t be more than twelve years between you!” Gregor abruptly raised the menu as if to shield his face. “Sorry, Portia,” he whispered. What had gotten into him? He’d been an FBI agent for years and had dealt with all manner of situations; I’d never seen him behave like this before.

  I opened my mouth to remind him that Mark was three years older, and I was quite happy with that difference in our ages, when Mother tapped my ankle under the table, shook her head, and folded her hands on the edge of the table.

  “We have something to tell you.”

  “Portia!” Gregor hissed. He sagged in relief when Chris returned with their grapefruit juice and set the glasses before them.

  He placed a Bloody Mary in front of me, and leaned down. “This is on me.”

  I sighed. “Thank you, Chris.”

  “Now then, what would you like to have?”

  “The cannoli-filled French toast you mentioned sounds good, and I’ll have that with bacon, soft, and baked tomatoes,” Mother told him, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the sheep’s eyes he was making at me.

  He scribbled down her order.

  “I’ll… uh… have the double bacon three cheese quiche,” Gregor muttered.

  “Very good, sir.” Chris turned to me and gave me a sultry look. “And you?” And I’d swear to God he mouthed “gorgeous!”

  I almost choked. “I’d like the fresh fruit with honey vanilla mascarpone.”

  “Excellent choice! I’ll go put your order in and check on you in a little while.” He took the menus and sauntered off, glancing back over his shoulder and giving me a seductive wink.

  I could see Gregor was getting ready to snarl again, but Mother rested her palm on his wrist, and he gave her the most fatuous smile I had ever seen on him

  Before I could wonder about that, Mother turned to me. “That’s a very light meal, sweetheart. Did Mark feed you?”

  “Mark always feeds me.” I could hardly tell her we’d spent a portion of the morning in bed, working off the calories of the breakfast he’d prepared. “He’s become quite a good cook.”

  “Unlike me.”

  “We love you anyway, Mother.”

  “Yes, we do!” Gregor said, and then he blushed scarlet. What was going on?

  “Thank you,” she said drolly. “You should have said something. We could have—”

  “It’s not important. What was it you wanted to tell me?” A sudden thought occurred to me. “You’re not moving out to L.A. to live with Tony and Bryan, are you?” As much as my uncles loved her, and as large as their house was, I had the feeling they’d prefer Mother to visit occasionally rather than move in permanently. Especially since their guesthouse was occupied by Tony’s ex-wife, her daughter from a previous marriage, and her newest husband. It had been quite an interesting winter.

  And frankly, I preferred to have Mother living less than three thousand miles away.

  “Certainly not, sweetheart. The house in Great Falls will always be home.” She and my father had purchased the house a few years before I was born. “As a matter of fact, it will come to you after—”

  “I really don’t want to talk about the possibility of you passing away, Mother.”

  “Neither do I,” Gregor sounded upset, and I turned to stare at him, nonplussed.

  “More a certainty, since it’s something we’ll all face.” Mother chuckled and once again rested her hand on Gregor’s. “If it comes to that, neither do I. There’s too much I still want to do.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.”

  “So am I.” And this time Gregor’s voice was soft.

  “All right, Mother. You’re healthy, and you’re not moving away—”

  “No. I’m very happy where I am.”

  “So what is it?”

  “Sweetheart, I’m... happy with whom I’m with.”

  “Whom you’re with? Pardon me for asking, but whom might that be?”

  “Gregor.” She smiled at him, and I hadn’t seen such a radiant expression on her face in a very long time.

  I was thrown for a loop. In the twenty-five years since we’d lost Father, there had been no one. Gregor had always been around, even more so after he’d been injured in the line of duty in the early ’90s, and I’d always loved him, not only as a friend, but as a father figure as well. But to imagine him as a romantic partner to my mother caught me totally off guard.

  I blinked and gazed first at Mother and then at Gregor. Mother looked happy and relaxed. Gregor, on the other hand, not only looked tense but scared at well.

  “I… I hope you don’t mind, Quinn. I’ve loved your mother since I was eighteen.”

  “Mind? Mind?” I r
ose and went around the table to him. “Get up.”

  He sat there staring up at me, fidgeting nervously, before glancing at Mother. “Portia?”

  “You’d better do as he says.” Her eyes were filled with tender amusement.

  “Gregor, get up!”

  He swallowed, pushed his chair back, and got to his feet, visibly bracing himself.

  “God, you’re an idiot!” I pulled him into a hug so tight it caused him to grunt. “You were there for me when Father couldn’t be, and I know he’d be pleased to know you’re there for Mother now.”

  “You don’t mind?” he asked, sounding a little dazed. “You really don’t mind?”

  Manns never believed in public displays, but I’d caressed my lover only an hour or so earlier, and I would do nothing less for this man who stood before me. I kissed his right cheek and then his left. “I’m…” I stepped back, took a handkerchief from my pocket, and blew my nose. “God bless you both!”

  Gregor took out his own handkerchief. “Thank you, Quinn.” He dried his eyes, blew his nose, and returned his handkerchief to his pocket. “I have to tell you I was afraid you’d think I chose Charmaine so you wouldn’t cause a scene in a public place when you learned about your mother and me.”

  “I’d hardly think that, Gregor. Didn’t I go ahead and cause a scene anyway?” My actions had drawn several curious gazes. The hell with it. I hugged him again, and he laughed and pounded my back

  “Why don’t you two sit down? We can start on these sticky buns.” Mother offered us the basket, and Gregor and I both took our seats.

  “So who else knows?” I asked as I chose a bun and put it on my bread plate, licking the sweet frosting from my fingers.

  “Just you. Gregor and I plan to fly up to New York tomorrow to tell Alyona in person,” Mother added. “I canceled my savate class. How’s your drink, sweetheart?”

  “Interesting.” I used my fork to fish a shrimp out of my Bloody Mary, and I offered it to her. She smiled and shook her head, and I extended it to Gregor.

  “Thanks.” The shrimp disappeared in a single bite. “I’ve got a friend who runs a charter out of Manassas Regional. He can fly us into MacArthur Airport on Long Island tomorrow around noon, and then fly us home in the evening. Good shrimp, but the Bloody Mary is on the spicy side.”