by Tinnean
“Good evening, Mother.” He kissed my cheek and sat down. “Crab-tomato bisque soup and Gregor’s black bread. Definitely comfort food. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, sweetheart. You sounded in need of comforting.” I said nothing more, wanting to give him a few minutes to gather his thoughts.
He took a few spoons of the bisque, a few bites of the black bread, a swallow of Perrier. Then he began speaking. “I don’t know what to do, Mother.” Emotions chased across his face. “I’ve been seeing someone since February, and we’d just taken our…our involvement to a physical level. It wasn’t a one night stand,” he said tiredly. “But it may as well have been. It’s over. I came home from work tonight and found what was basically a ‘Dear Quinton’ letter on my pillow.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. But you were involved enough to give this…this person a key to your house? You’ve never done that, to my knowledge.” I also noticed that he didn’t use the feminine pronoun to denote his “someone.” I knew my son well enough to know he wasn’t coy. If he’d been seeing a woman, he would have stated it quite frankly. Therefore…
I folded my hands and listened.
“It certainly wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, and I can’t imagine what possessed me to give hi- to give out my key this time.”
“Could it be because this time more than your head is involved?”
“I’ve already had my one love. It wasn’t…There wasn’t a happy ending.”
“What makes you so certain that person was your one love?”
“I just knew, Mother.” The pain in his voice made me understand why Tony had always called it “the bane of the Sebrings.”
“Very well, I won’t argue it with you.” If Tartarin Bauchet hadn’t died years ago of a cirrhotic liver, I would cheerfully have flown to France and shot him for the misery he’d caused my son. “However, if your new lover was aware you couldn’t love with a whole heart…”
“That didn’t weigh into things. Anyone can tell you that Mar…that this person is not the best bet for a long-term relationship.”
“But you were willing to try.” That was the second time he’d almost slipped, an indication he was more tangled up in this than perhaps he realized. Apparently Mark Vincent was more than someone Quinton had given temporary lodging.
“I suppose.”
I looked down at the album in my lap, startled to realize it was the one I had taken out to show the man I’d thought was my son’s friend from his years at Phillips Exeter.
“This is the room where I spoke with ‘Skip Patterson,’ did I ever tell you that, Quinton? He was fascinated by this picture of you.”
“I fail to see anything that would interest…anyone.”
Oh, my son, you’re too modest. “Your intensity, Quinton. Your unwavering concentration. Even someone unfamiliar with the sport could see you throwing your heart over that fence for Jack Be Nimble to follow.” I remembered the girls who were also entered in the Hampton Classic sighing over him, as well as one of the boys, who didn’t realize I was close enough to overhear him murmur to himself how he’d like to be ridden by Quinton.
“Be that as it may, Mark Vincent is a man. What he felt…thought…about me would only matter on a professional level.”
“Sweetheart…” I’d kept silent on this head for a very long time, feeling my son would be embarrassed if he knew I was aware of his sexuality, but he was so distressed now that I had to speak. “I’ve known since the summer we spent in the French wine country when you were fifteen that you…enjoy masculine companionship from time to time.”
“Excuse me?” He looked stunned, and I couldn’t help be amused. Did he really think I was so clueless?
“I have no problem with that, sweetheart.”
The tension around his mouth eased. “Uncle Jefferson and Ludo.”
“And…others.” He looked intrigued, but I wasn’t about to reveal the short time when I was twenty-one and had been involved with Folana Fournaise, as well his father’s brief encounter. A little distraction was called for. “Of course, after the inception of the AIDS pandemic I worried, but I trusted your innate good sense not to take foolish risks.”
“There haven’t been that many—” He quickly changed what he’d been about to say. “I’m always careful, Mother.”
And yet something about a WBIS agent had drawn him enough that he’d become involved with the man, to the point where the incipient separation saw him turning to me.
“Now, if I may offer a word of advice?” I waited until he gave a faint nod. “If it were I who was being unceremoniously dumped, I would go after Mark Vincent—I’m correct in assuming it is Mark Vincent about whom we’re speaking?—and demand he tell me what possessed him to react in such an asinine manner. You’re a Mann, Quinton, but you’re also a Sebring. If anyone is going to do the breaking up, it will be you!”
He stared at me, open-mouthed. Why was it the young never realized their elders had been young once also? And then he burst into laughter. “You know something, Mother? You never fail to amaze me!”
“Thank you. Finish your dinner before it grows cold.”
“I think I will.” And as he ate, for the first time he spoke to me about Armand. “Although it didn’t end well, I’ve always known he was the one.” His expression was wistful.
I didn’t remind him that at fifteen, he was unlikely to be thinking with anything other than his hormones.
“I was so crazy in love with him! You can’t imagine!” He flushed. “I’m sorry. Of course you can imagine. Father…”
“Yes.” I smiled at my son, who was so like his father. “I was so ‘crazy in love with him.’” Startled, I felt tears come to my eyes. It had been a long time since I’d permitted myself to weep over Nigel.
“Mother.” Quinton was beside me and held me close. “Does it ever get easy?”
“No. That’s why Sebrings dally where we may, but are cautious in giving our hearts away. Do you have a handkerchief?”
He took one from his pocket and carefully dried my eyes. “Do you ever regret it?”
“No,” I repeated. “Loving your father was the most wonderful experience, and even if I’d known we were only to have those twenty years together, I wouldn’t have given them up to spare myself the last twenty-four without him. I just…I wish I’d told him how much I loved him. I hope you won’t make that mistake, sweetheart.”
“No chance of that. My opportunity at the brass ring has passed me by.”
Whether erroneous or not, my son had carried that belief, that secret sorrow, all these years. I began to swear, flatly and coldly, in Farsi. Quinton stared at me in surprise.
“Everyone thinks of you as the ice queen.”
“And I’ve worked very hard to maintain that impression. Think how disappointed they would all be if they learned that I was as human as the rest of mankind.”
“I consider myself very fortunate that you’re my mother.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m proud that you’re my son.”
“Even when I do something as stupid as…as care for the most notorious WBIS agent on the planet?”
I patted his cheek. “Just see to it that he…cares as much for you.”
* * * *
Quinton flew up to Cape Cod the next day to confront “the most notorious WBIS agent on the planet”—I had my own way of learning things, and Folana was only a part of it—and I left a message on his answering machine, telling him I wouldn’t expect him for our ride on Sunday unless I heard otherwise.
I heard otherwise on Friday.
“I’m back in town, Mother, and I’ll meet you at our usual time. And I’ll…uh…fill you in on what’s happened.”
When he arrived at the country club’s stable on Sunday, again limping although he tried manfully to conceal it, I was pleased to see how much like his younger self he looked.
Mark Vincent might be the intelligence community’s worst nightmare, but if h
e put that relaxed, satisfied look on my son’s face, there was much for which I was willing to forgive him.
* * * *
Chapter 30
Gregor was unavailable to answer the door when the bell chimed, so I did, after checking to make sure whoever was standing there was neither a solicitor nor someone peddling religion.
The man who stood there was dressed in tan coveralls. At the curb was a small van with Horatio Primm, Purveyor of Antiquities stenciled neatly on the side.
I knew Horatio Primm and liked the little man, but I hadn’t ordered anything, and I was too much the daughter of my family to take an unknown quantity at face value.
I opened the door. “May I help you?”
“Mrs. Mann? Mr. Primm was asked by your son to deliver this to you.” A large crate sat on a dolly.
“Are you sure?” Quinton hadn’t mentioned anything about this to me.
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Primm said it’s supposed to be a gift for a lady friend of Mr. Mann’s.”
Lady friend? Was Quinton seeing a woman now? “If you’ll wait one moment?” I closed the door and turned to pick up the phone to dial Quinton’s number.
“Hello, Mother. To what do I owe this call? Not that I’m complaining, I assure you.” I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“I have a man with a very large crate at my door, Quinton, and he tells me you asked to have it delivered here.”
“Oh…er…Yes. Sorry. I meant to tell you about it.”
“Then you did want it sent here.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Am I safe in assuming you intended to tell me about your new relationship at some point?”
“Yes, Mother. Just a second! What new relationship?”
“The deliveryman said it was for your lady friend.”
“Oh, God,” he groaned. “Mr. Primm jumped to conclusions, and I didn’t bother to correct him.”
Ah. As highly as my old acquaintance thought of my son, he was still very old school, and considered homosexuality an unwise lifestyle choice. “So it’s for…someone else.” He was at work, and I wouldn’t name names.
“Yes. I will tell you about it. Would tonight be soon enough?”
“That will be fine, Quinton. I’ll see that Gregor makes something special for dinner.”
“I’ll look forward to it. And Mother? I am sorry. It really did slip my mind.”
“It’s all right, sweetheart. We’ll see you later.”
We said good-bye and hung up.
Gregor came out of the first floor powder room. “What is it, Portia?”
“Apparently Quinton wanted something delivered here.” I went back to the door and opened it. “I apologize for keeping you waiting. If you’ll bring it in? You can leave it here in the entryway.”
“You sure, ma’am? It’s heavy.”
“I’m sure. Gregor?”
He took out his wallet, removed a bill, and handed it to the delivery man.
“Thanks.” He grinned at Gregor, nodded to me, and then wheeled the dolly back to the van.
Gregor walked around the crate and tried to give it a shake. “Whoa, heavy! What’s in it?”
“I have no idea.”
“What did Quinn say?”
“Nothing. I’m assuming he didn’t want to talk about it at work.”
“I see it’s from Horatio Primm’s. I remember you taking Quinn there to shop for antiques and stuff when he was little. Strange. Your birthday isn’t until November.” He shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t do something as stupid as ask you to accept delivery of your own birthday present. Would he?”
“Being all spy-like? No, he’d send it out to Shadow Brook.” Especially since Tony and Bryan had moved to the West Coast. “He’ll tell us at dinner. I promised him something special.”
“Did you have something in mind?”
“I thought I’d leave it to you.”
“And I know just the thing.” He rubbed his hands together briskly. “Want to go grocery shopping with me?”
“I’d love to. Just let me get my purse.”
“And a jacket, Portia. It’s a little cool outside.”
* * * *
“It’s just a statue of a dog, Gregor.” Quinton said as he took the platter with the standing rib roast from me and passed it to him. “Mother, after dinner I’ll move it to the storage under the stairs, if I may?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. I’m not sure how long I’ll have to ask you to keep it here.”
“A dog, Quinn?”
He smiled at Gregor. “It’s for a housewarming gift.”
And he wouldn’t say anything more.
* * * *
The cherry blossoms had bloomed and faded, and April was making its way toward May. Mark Vincent was still Quinton’s guest, but it was something I preferred not to discuss with Gregor.
And then I got a phone call that gave me something else to worry about.
“Portia…” It was my oldest brother.
“Tony! How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I…er…have something to tell you.”
“I’m waiting with bated breath.”
“Don’t be flippant.”
“Sorry. What’s going on? Is L.A. about to slide into the ocean?”
“What? What are you—” I could almost see him shake his head. “I…wanted you to know I’m getting married.”
I blinked and stared at the phone. This was the last thing I expected. “Excuse me?”
“I said I’m getting married.”
“Anthony, I wasn’t aware you were seeing anyone.”
“It’s…uh…fairly sudden.” That was certainly an understatement. “Her name is Cara Mia Ford. She’s a lovely young woman.”
“How young?”
“She’s twenty-six.”
“Who is she? That name sounds familiar.”
“Do you remember Allen Ford, by any chance? She’s his daughter.”
“Ford? Oh, yes, didn’t you mention that he used to work for you at the NSA?”
“Yes. He died about ten years ago, and she didn’t take it well. They were very close. She went through a rough patch, and then in college, she met this man, Adam ‘Nme. He’s bad news, Portia.”
“In what way?”
“He deals drugs, among other things.”
Where was this was going?
“Cara Mia got away from him. She has a child, a little girl whose name is Sunday.”
So in one fell swoop, Tony had a family of his own. Was he having a midlife crisis, albeit later in life?
“Portia, I never objected when you wanted to marry Nigel—”
I nearly choked on hearing those words. “Have you lost your mind? You looked for any opportunity you could find to get me to change my mind.”
“Well, deep down, I never objected. Stand by me now, little sister, and accept Cara Mia.”
“What does Bryan have to say about this?”
“Why would he say anything?”
“Well, I’m assuming that Cara Mia isn’t going to want a stray male living in her home. He’ll have to move out.”
“It’s our home, Bryan’s and mine, and he goes nowhere.”
I was taken aback by his vehemence. “All right. Tony, does she make you happy?”
“Yes.” But it was a moment before he said that. “Look, I’m not a fool. I’ve seen a lawyer and had a pre-nup drawn up.”
“She had no objection?”
“No.”
“I want to meet her.” I wouldn’t feel comfortable until I did. “I’ll book the first flight out I can get. As soon as I have it, I’ll call you and let you know my itinerary.”
I waited, wondering if he’d tell me it really wasn’t necessary, but all he said was, “I’ll make sure Bryan takes the day off and picks you up at LAX.”
“Excellent. I’ll—”
“Bring Gregor along with you, yes?”
“I’ll have to make sure he’
s free, but yes. I’ll talk to you in a little while, big brother.” I hung up and went looking for Gregor.
* * * *
We flew out of National the next morning, and as Tony said, Bryan was at LAX to pick us up.
“What the hell is he thinking, Bry?” Gregor demanded once we were in the car, unwittingly echoing Tony’s words regarding Bryan’s marriage.
Bryan shrugged. “It’s his choice.”
“What do you have to say about it?”
“Nothing. It’s his—”
“I know, his choice. Is he going senile?”
“No, he’s not. And if you say something like that to him, I swear to God, I’ll knock you down!” He drew in a deep breath. “Look, Cara Mia is a nice woman, and her daughter is a sweetheart. You’ll see.”
Gregor subsided, but I could hear his muttered, “I still think this is all kinds of wrong.”
I sighed. I should never have told Gregor Cara Mia’s age. He’d stared at me in shock for a moment, and then snarled, “Never mind his daughter—she’s young enough to be his granddaughter!”
To which I’d had no choice but to respond, “Let’s hold off judgment, all right? If she’s his love, there won’t be anything we can do about it.”
* * * *
We did see, and if Tony wasn’t besotted, then he did an excellent acting job. “Cara Mia rides, and we’re going to take Sunday out on the trail today. Come with us.”
Which was how the five of us wound up at the Topanga Canyon stable. Gregor stayed behind. Not only did he prefer his horses under the hood of a car, but someone needed to prepare dinner.
Tony swung Sunday up onto the saddle before him, and she shrieked with laughter. He shared a small, wistful smile with Bryan, and then they trotted on ahead of us.
“Your brother is a good man,” Cara Mia murmured. She slowed her horse, and I reined in mine to keep pace with her. “I’m very fortunate he wants to marry me. I knew him when my father worked for him. He was so kind to us after Dad was killed.”
“It’s difficult when an officer dies in the line of duty.”
“It wasn’t even that. It was a stupid mugging.”
“What does your family think of this marriage?”
“I’m not close to them anymore. After I married Adam…” She shook her head. “Would you mind if we changed the subject?”
