Things Happen That Way

by Tinnean

  Mark had the nerve to grin at me. “It wouldn’t have been the same.” A gray tabby with a thick, plush tail leaped onto the couch and strolled toward him. “Hello, Pita. You remember me?”

  She rubbed her cheek against his uninjured arm, her rasping purr making it obvious she did.

  “So this is the kitten you plan to give Mother?”

  “Yeah. What do you think of her?”

  “She’s very pretty, and she has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen on a cat.”

  “The first time I saw them, I thought they looked just like Portia’s. Do you think she’ll like her?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Another cat sauntered in, this one with a bobbed tail. “Well, hello. And who are you?”

  “This is Tiramisu. Theo calls her Miss Su. Matheson gave her to him for Christmas.”

  Miss Su was extraordinarily friendly, and we lost track of time, playing with both cats.

  “Ah, that’s so cute.” Theo stood in the doorway, watching us. “Wills is back—it’s a good thing you didn’t park in his spot. He’s an easygoing guy, but that drives him up the wall. Anyway, I’m gonna make the sandwiches. Vince, you know where the guest bathroom is—it’s closer than the powder room. Go wash your hands.”

  “Why does everyone feel the need to boss me around?” Mark complained.

  “Maybe there wouldn’t be that need if you didn’t get yourself shot.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  Theo laughed and called over his shoulder as he left the room, “I like you, Mr. Mann.”

  “Don’t let that go to your head, Quinn. Theo’s taken.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind, but if it comes to that, so am I. Now, suppose you show me the bathroom.”

  By the time we returned, Theo was setting the contents of a tray onto the coffee table—a platter of sandwiches, condiments, coleslaw, and potato salad.

  Behind him, Matheson, Mark’s agent, also held a tray, this one piled with plates, cups, and forks. A carafe of coffee, a sugar bowl, and two small pitchers were already on the coffee table. Matheson’s expression was hooded, but he nodded at me and set the tray down.

  “Coffee, Mr. Mann?”

  “Yes, please. Is that Peaberry Kona Viennese?”

  “Yes.”

  “Forty bucks a pound, babe.” Mark examined the sandwiches Theo offered him and selected one. He put it on a plate, then helped himself to coleslaw and potato salad.

  “It’s Theo’s favorite.” Matheson gave his lover one of the most fatuous smiles I’d ever seen.

  “You get what you pay for.” And if I recalled correctly, that was the type of coffee bean Mark had been stocking for the past six months.

  Matheson poured a cup. “I believe you take it with half-and-half. I’m sorry, we only have milk or cream.”

  “Cream will be fine.”

  He handed me one of the pitchers.

  “And sugar.”

  He gave me the sugar bowl.

  “Thank you.”

  “Mr. Vincent?”

  “Yeah. Matheson. How is it you know how Mann takes his coffee?”

  Matheson had been bending forward to hand Mark his cup. Now he straightened slowly. “He’s the Ice Man, sir, and you’re involved with him. It made sense that I learned what I could about him.”

  “Who have you shared this information with?”

  “No one, sir. It’s hardly a matter of WBIS security that Mr. Mann prefers half-and-half in his coffee.”

  “I see.” Mark was studying his agent with deadly intent. “And the fact that I’m involved with him?”

  “Mr. Vincent, you didn’t object when I moved in with Theo. You didn’t give us a hard time when we got engaged. Who you’re involved with is nobody’s business but your own.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like roast beef on rye or ham and Swiss on a baguette, Mr. Mann?”

  I took the roast beef, added horseradish sauce—

  “Theo makes that himself, along with the coleslaw and potato salad. The horseradish has a kick to it, though.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” I took a bite, chewed, and hissed out a breath.

  Matheson was right—my God, was he right!—and I reached for my coffee and took a swallow, hoping it would put out the fire.

  “That’s quite some kick.”

  “Wills likes it that way.” Theo grinned, unaware his horseradish sauce had nearly seared off the roof of my mouth. “Have some coleslaw and potato salad.”

  “I believe I will.” As I did so, I heard muffled laughter coming from my side. “Just remember, Vincent,” I muttered through gritted teeth, “you can be replaced by a kitten!”

  Theo laughed outright, but Matheson bit his lip and looked away.

  After we finished our sandwiches, Theo brought out more coffee and the baklava. All it required was a single bite, and I could understand why Mark had been willing to brave all those stairs for it.

  “This is amazing. Would you give me the recipe for it?”

  “I’d love to! I’ll just get a piece of paper from my office and write it down.” He hurried out of the room.

  “Thank you, Mr. Mann.” Matheson was a good deal more relaxed than earlier.

  “For what?”

  “Theo’s a fabulous cook, but he doesn’t usually get compliments. Oh, I tell him all the time how great his meals are, but he says I’m his fiancé—that’s my job.”

  “Would he be interested in doing some work for one of my mother’s charities?” After hearing about what had happened to Valentine Duchesne, Mother had done some serious thinking and decided DC needed a shelter for teens who had been discarded by their families because of their sexuality. We’d discussed it one day while Mark was dozing, and I knew she intended to bring it up with Aunt Allison and a few of the women who sat on various charities with her. They needed an event to raise money, and whatever the event, having food would be an excellent idea. I’d talk to her about this, and see if we could get a tasting menu from Theo. After the calamity that had been Chance Dashwood’s attempt at catering, she’d definitely want to sample what Theo could provide. However, even if he didn’t work out, it was a place to start.

  “He’s an accountant. You can ask him, but this is the tax season, and he’s swamped. As a matter of fact, he’ll be staying up late tonight to work on the returns he set aside—”

  “Shit, I didn’t think of that,” Mark said.

  “What didn’t you think of, Vince?” Theo strolled back into the living room, holding out a piece of paper.

  “We kept you from your work.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll catch up later. Here you go… uh… Mr. Mann. This is my mother’s recipe. Let me know how it turns out.”

  “I will, thank you.” I glanced at my watch. “Mark is right though, we’ve kept you too long.” I’d enjoyed the visit, not only with Pita but also with Miss Su.

  “I’ve got Pita’s things ready in the foyer,” Matheson said. “We can bring them down to your car, Mr. Mann, and Theo will bring Pita in her carrier. I’ll help you with Mr. Vincent if you need a hand.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” I had a feeling going down would be more difficult than going up.

  “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,” Mark grumbled. He’d asked for a glass of water and had downed a painkiller.

  “Stay put until I come back for you.”

  He growled, but it was half-hearted at best. I leaned down and kissed his cheek, then followed Matheson to the foyer.

  By the time Matheson and I succeeded in getting Mark down to the street and into the front seat without hurting his leg, I was sweating and out of breath.

  And yes, a Dodge very similar to the one Mark drove was parked right behind the Jag.

  Theo placed Pita’s carrier on the backseat. He looked over the Jaguar. “The condo isn’t going to fit.”

  “No, I didn’t think so either.” Fortunately, the kitten’s other belongings did fit in the trunk. From what Mark had told me, he�
��d gone somewhat overboard with purchases for her, as well as having her microchipped, dewormed, and groomed.

  “Do you want Wills to pick it up for you?”

  “Thank you, but that’s all right. A friend took it apart and drove it to my mother’s home.” I shook hands with him and Matheson, got into the Jag, and turned on the ignition.

  Mark opened the window. “Thanks, both of you, for keeping Pita longer than I anticipated. I... uh... I appreciate it.”

  Theo leaned down and kissed his cheek. “It’s the least we could do after what you did for Spike.”

  “I didn’t—” He shook his head. “Matheson, I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “No, he won’t,” I snapped and put the Jag in gear. “You’re recuperating.” Laughter floated in through the window as I pulled away from the curb.

  Mark pressed the switch that closed the window. “You’re a pain in the ass, Mann.”

  “No, that’s the kitten in the carrier. You heard Wallace. He wants you to take off at least six weeks.”

  “Well, hell.”

  “Deal with it.”

  “Ah, shit!”

  “What now?”

  “She has to be spayed. I thought I had time….”

  “I’ll take care of it.” I had actually talked about it with Theo. He had a vet with whom he was very happy, but she was in DC. I’d have to find one in Great Falls, which would be more convenient for Mother.

  “Quinn?”

  “Yes?”

  “You know when you were eating Theo’s baklava?”

  I blinked and frowned as we pulled up to a red light. “What about it?”

  “I could tell how much you enjoyed it.”

  “You could?”

  “You kept making ‘yummy’ sounds.”

  “What?” I turned my head to glare at him. “I did not!”

  “You did.”

  “Is that pain medication making you loopy?”

  “Nope.” He reached across the console and squeezed my knee. “And you know something else, babe? I loved it.”

  “I… I’m glad to hear I haven’t made a total fool of myself.”

  “Never. Now, are we going to surprise Portia, or give her the kitten right off the bat?”

  “I don’t know. This is your gift to her.”

  “Geez, I have to do all the thinking? Let’s get Pita home and see where it goes from there.” Did he consider Mother’s house home, or was that just a figure of speech? He yawned. “This stuff is putting me to sleep. Wake me when we get home, okay?”

  “Okay.” The light turned green, and I drove on. Whichever it was, it made me very happy, and I began humming the Johnny Mathis tune, “I’m Coming Home.”

  I parked the Jag at the curb and messaged Gregor. We’re home. Is Mother there?

  She’s on the phone with your Aunt Allison. It’s safe to come in.

  “Mark, I’m going to bring Pita in. Please stay put, all right? I’ll be back to come get you.”

  “I’m not crippled, you know.”

  “And I want to see you stay that way. Please do as I ask.”

  “Okay, fine. But only because you said please.”

  I was tempted to lean over and kiss him, but I could hardly do that in full view of my mother’s neighbors. “And because you’re being so cooperative, I’ll blow you when I get home from dinner,” I murmured instead.

  He stared at my mouth, then licked his lips. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Feeling frustrated, I made sure the road was clear, then got out of the Jag and took the carrier from the backseat.

  Gregor was waiting at the front door. “Let me take her. Are we giving her to your mother now?”

  “I think yes? I’ll get Mark, since Pita is his gift to Mother.”

  “Do we have to keep that name?”

  “It’s up to Mother.” I jogged back to the car and opened the door. “Ready, babe?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re going to give Pita to Mother now.” I helped him out of the car, made sure he had the crutch firmly in position, and closed the door with a bump of my hip.

  Once in the house, we accompanied Gregor and the kitten to Mother’s office. Mark and I stood in the doorway, blocking her view of Gregor, who used our shoulder-to-shoulder position to conceal the cat carrier.

  “That sounds like an excellent idea, Allison. Let’s…” She noticed us standing there. “Quinton’s just returned home. Why don’t I give you a call in a few days? We can discuss this further over lunch. At the Café Montpelier? …. Splendid. Good-bye, Allison.” She ended the phone call, and looked from me to Mark, raising an eyebrow when she realized Gregor was behind us. “All right, suppose you tell me what’s going on?”

  Mark cleared his throat. “I have something for you. She was supposed to be for Mother’s Day, but the friend who was watching her will be going out of town, and I thought it might be a good idea to give her to you now.”

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “Novotny?”

  Gregor stepped around us and placed the carrier on Mother’s desk. He opened the door and took out the gray tabby.

  “Oh, my. What a lovely little girl.” Mother stroked Pita’s soft fur, and the kitten arched her back into Mother’s touch. The sound of Pita’s purr filled the room, indicating her pleasure.

  “Quinn didn’t think you were allergic, but if you are—”

  “You’re not turning her in to the humane society, Mark!” I hadn’t known the kitten for long, but I liked her, and I’d be willing to find a way to keep her.

  “You saw what a fiasco my having a pet would be. I had to leave for LA at the drop of a hat, and then I had to hightail it to Paris. If Theo hadn’t been available to watch her, what would I have done with her?”

  “Given her to me.”

  “And if you had to go out of town?”

  “Give her to Mother. We would have managed.”

  “Ahem.” Mother waited until she had our attention. “No, I don’t have cat allergies, Mark.” She took the kitten from Gregor and rubbed her cheek against Pita’s head. “Gregor, do you?”

  “Hmm? Oh, I’m good.”

  “Excellent. Then there’s no reason to worry about whether or not Mark would make a good pet parent. Which I’m sure you would, Mark.”

  “See?” I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “And the only reason I’m not poking you is because you’re recovering.” I straightened. “Now, I’m going to bring in the rest of her things. Mark, sit down, please. And Gregor, will you come give me a hand? Pita is quite the material girl.”

  “Pita?” Mother asked.

  “Uh…” Mark’s color rose. “The guy who was supposed to take care of her called her a pain in the … uh… butt.”

  Mother burst into laughter.

  “Let’s get the kitten’s stuff, Quinn.” Gregor raised his voice. “You don’t want to be late for your dinner date with DB, do you?”

  I sighed and followed him out of the house to the Jag. “Mark is aware DB and I are having dinner. And it’s not a date.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “He’s also aware I consider DB a brother.” I opened the trunk and stood aside as he took a couple of shopping bags overflowing with Pita’s toys, grooming necessities, and food and water bowls.

  “Y’know something, Quinn? If you ever decided to have kids, you’d have to trade this baby in for something better equipped for families.”

  “Not a minivan, I hope.” Recently, I’d begun thinking the same thing myself.

  “Nah. More along the lines of a Hummer.”

  “We’ll see what the future brings, but don’t expect a woman other than Mother to be in my life.”

  “Yeah, but nothing lasts forever. What if you and Vincent split up?”

  “Then I would be heartbroken for the rest of my life.” I bit my lip. I hadn’t meant to confess that.

  “Goddammit! He can’t be your one! Jesus, Quinn!” He groaned when I didn’t respond to
that. “You’re giving him a lot of power over you.”

  “And you don’t think I have as much power over him?” I gathered up the rest of Pita’s belongings—litter pan, litter, and a brown paper bag filled with cans of cat food—and closed the trunk.

  “What? Vincent? Not likely!” He flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Quinn, the man’s a stone cold killer. He’d turn on you in a New York City minute if it suited him!”

  “He wouldn’t, Gregor.” I tilted my head and steadfastly met his gaze.

  Gregor opened his mouth to offer more arguments to support his conviction that I was heading for a world of grief, then closed it and shrugged. “You’re a big boy, Quinn. Just remember I’m here for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He fiddled with the handles of his bags. “Look. When that French kid hurt you, I couldn’t do anything about it. But if Vincent hurts you... he’s local, and I know where he lives.”

  “Thank you,” I said again.

  “Okay, let’s get this stuff in the house. You have to get ready for your dinner with DB, and I want to put together that cat condo.”

  Chapter 17

  I climbed the stairs to the second floor. It was quiet and dim up here, and I paused in front of the bedroom where Mark would be staying. It was just down the hall from my room, and while I would have preferred he sleep with me, the double bed I’d had since I was a teen just wouldn’t accommodate his six foot three inch height. In addition, his wounds would have made the small bed uncomfortable for him.

  I sighed and walked on to my suite of rooms, and once there, I laid out the clothes I planned to wear. Then I stripped and went into my bathroom.

  It had been some years since I’d last used this shower, and the body sponge was new, as was the bottle of body wash.

  As for the towels, they were still warm from the dryer and smelled of lavender fabric softener.

  Trust Gregor to make sure everything was as it should be.

  It only took a minute or so before I had the water at the right temperature, and I got under the spray. I soaped the sponge and stroked it over my body.

  Because I needed to get on the road soon, the shower couldn’t be as leisurely as I would have liked, so after a quick five-minute wash, I rinsed off, stepped out of the shower, and rubbed a towel over my hair and body.