by Tinnean
“Nicky called to let us know you were on your way. Come in, come in!”
“This is Mark Vincent. He’ll be staying with me. Mark, this is Olive Plum. Shadow Brook wouldn’t run as smoothly without her and her husband.”
She blushed and swatted my arm, then closed the door behind us before turning to Mark. “How do you do, Mr. Vincent? Welcome to Shadow Brook. “
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Plum.”
“Oh, please, everyone calls me Olive.”
“Everyone calls me Mark.”
She nodded. “Very well, Mark. If you insist.”
He smiled at her, and her blush deepened.
“I’ve heard a good deal about Shadow Brook, and I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
“I’m sure it will more than meet your expectations. Now, then, let me have your overcoats.” She took our coats and carried them to the cloakroom that was across from the curving staircase, and I chuckled.
Still smiling, Mark gave me a curious look.
“‘Everyone calls you Mark?’” I repeated in a soft undertone.
The smile faded. “Did you think I was going to tell her everyone calls me ‘that sociopathic son of a bitch’?”
I’d been teasing, but that brought me up short. “Who calls you that? No, I know. Drum.” I scowled. “I should have insisted you let Robert Lynx keep him.” Lynx ran the Division, an antiterrorist organization located in Paris.
“I wouldn’t wish Drum on anyone, not even Lynx.”
“I think the two deserve each other.” I had no liking for either man. Drum was always after me for favors, and it was because Lynx had taken over the Division that Richard, the man who’d created it, decided to recreate it, resulting in my kidnapping.
“Why, Quinn! I didn’t know you were so bloodthirsty.”
No, very few people knew me as anything other than the Ice Man. Before I could start wondering if that was what attracted Mark to me, he tipped his head back, stared up, and let out a low whistle.
“I’ll bet that’s an adventure to clean!”
The ceiling here ran to a height of thirty feet, and at the pinnacle hung a crystal chandelier my great-great-grandfather had commissioned F & C Osler of London to create. They were the leading makers of chandeliers, and of course nothing had been too good for Shadow Brook, which I’d had the feeling was his one true love.
“Great-grandfather had an electric hoist installed, and Grandfather had it replaced with a newer, better model. As a child, it always fascinated me, and if I’d been well behaved, he would allow me to turn the key that activated the hoist.”
“Sounds like he cared about you.”
That startled me. I’d never questioned his affection, although I knew from things my uncles had said that he had not been an easy man to get along with.
“Now….” Olive had come bustling back. “The family is in the living room.”
The strains of a piano/guitar duet came from the back of the house. “That’s ‘Blue Moon’, isn’t it? Nice music,” Mark said.
“That’s Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Ludovic. They usually play in the evening, and it’s a real pleasure to listen to them.” She became all business. “Leave your bags here. Henry will take them up to your room. I hope you won’t mind, Mr.—Mark. We’ve a full house tonight, and we don’t have a spare bedroom. Even Mr. Anthony and Mr. Bryan will be sharing a room. Mrs. Mann suggested you stay in Mr. Quinton’s room. We brought a futon down from one of the attics. I hope that will be all right?”
“That’ll be fine, Olive. I don’t mind sharing a room with Quinn. As long as he doesn’t snore—”
“I do not snore.” As he very well knew.
He grinned at me. Not that manic expression he used when he wanted to keep people off-center, but one of deviltry. It nearly took my breath away, and I was inundated by a wave of desire and—
Olive derailed my train of thought, fortunately unaware of the direction in which it was heading. “I’ll say good-night now and wish you both a happy New Year.”
“Thank you, Olive. Happy New Year to you and Henry.”
“Yeah, Happy New Year, Olive.”
She smiled at us and then made her way to the elevator that would take her down to the lower level of the house, where she and her husband had their own suite of rooms, including a full kitchen.
“The living room is this way, Mark. We’ll take the shortcut through the wet bar.” And while I was there, I’d put the champagne on ice.
Mark walked on ahead of me, and then halted in the doorway. I wondered if he saw the living room the way I always had.
To the left would be the grand piano that Mother told me had stood on that spot since before she was born. At the far end of the room were the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the veranda and beyond to the paths that led to various parts of the farm. Scattered around the room would be couches, loveseats, and comfortable armchairs. The Oriental rug that covered most of the hardwood floor would be rolled up, because after the ball dropped and we’d had the obligatory glass of champagne, we would waltz to “Old Lang Syne,” Jeff with Ludo, Bryan with his wife Johanna, on those occasions when she’d deign to join us, and the rest of us taking turns with Mother.
“Impressive tree,” Mark murmured. “And I thought yours was big!”
“I could have told you it was just a baby.” At ten feet, it was a good eight feet smaller than the Douglas-fir that stood in the far corner, covered with decorations, some of which dated back to the early nineteenth century. “Tomorrow, when we go riding, I’ll take you to see the pine plantation.” I smiled at his raised eyebrow. “Back in the early sixties, Grandmother decided to set aside ten or so acres to grow our own trees.”
“Your tree came from here?”
“Of course. Uncle Jeff always makes sure both Mother and I have one. And the same for Uncle Tony and Uncle Bryan when they lived on this coast. I would have gotten one for you, but you already had that midget that’s on your window seat.”
“Are you insulting my tree?”
I just bumped my shoulder against his. “Next year, all right?”
A warm, mellow baritone had joined the piano and the guitar, and I smiled at Mark. “And that’s Uncle Bryan.”
For a moment, it saddened me to hear that song. I was certain Aunt Johanna had never whispered for him to adore her; she was more involved with the children from her first marriage.
Uncle Bryan was in his seventies now. Would he ever find his one true love?
“Do we wait until they’re finished?”
Before I could respond, Bryan saw us and stopped singing. “Quinn’s here!”
“Quinton! We’ve been waiting for you! Happy New Year, sweetheart!”
“Happy New Year, Mother.” I went to her and kissed her cheek. “Happy New Year, everyone!”
There was a chorus of “Happy New Year.”
“Hello, Portia. It’s good to see you again, and to see you looking so well. How are you feeling?”
“Better and better each day, Mark. You’re so tan!” She turned toward me. “And you’re looking very rested, sweetheart! I imagine it’s safe to assume you enjoyed your vacation?”
“Yes, I did, very much so. The nights were amazing.”
There was muffled laughter, and I joined in good-naturedly. “I just meant it was quiet and peaceful on the island. The sky was so clear and the stars were so bright, I felt I could have reached up and touched them.”
“Of course that’s what you meant.” Mark looked smug, and I bumped his shoulder again.
“You know Jefferson and Ludovic, and of course, Gregor.”
“Yeah.” Mark shook hands with my uncle and his partner, and then offered his hand to Gregor. Their knuckles whitened, and both men released their grip at the same time, surreptitiously flexing their fingers. “You wearing the socks I gave you?”
“Did you doubt it?” Gregor bared his teeth in a faux grin and raised the leg of his trousers to reveal the white s
ocks with the red lettering up the side.
Mark burst into laughter. “Okay, Novotny. One up to you.”
“And this is my Uncle Tony and my Uncle Bryan.”
“We’ve heard a good deal about you.”
“All bad, I’m sure.”
“Mark—”
“Most of it, yes.” Tony interrupted me. “However, you’ve done a great service to this family. Two great services. And for that, we’re inclined to overlook… everything.”
“Not really a good idea. You know I have a reputation for being a sociopathic….” Mark glanced at Mother and changed his words. “… for being a sociopath.”
“Perhaps. However, I’ve always felt labels were for small minds. You’ll allow us to come to our own conclusions?”
Mark looked nonplussed, and I couldn’t help thinking how sad it was that the fact someone was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt should surprise him.
“I trust the drive to Shadow Brook was uneventful,” Ludo murmured.
“Just the usual holiday traffic,” I assured him, grateful for the change of subject.
“Ah. Brilliant.”
Tony nodded toward the sideboard where the buffet was set up. “Care for something?”
Cheese platters were flanked by a cornucopia of apples, grapes, and pears. A variety of dipping sauces were beside the platters bearing crudités, while condiment dishes of soy sauce, duck sauce, and hot mustard surrounded trays of miniature egg rolls. At either end were fondue pots, one of cheese and the other of chocolate.
“This all looks—”
“Delicious, Quinn?” Mark grinned at me, recalling that was the word I kept repeating at dinner.
My uncles looked first startled and then interested, and I pretended I didn’t see.
“Hmm. Perhaps you’d like to wash your hands, Mark?” Tony suggested. “There’s a powder room adjacent to the kitchen.”
There was also one through the wet bar, which Mark would have seen. “If you want to get me out of the room, have a little courtesy for my grasp of the situation and just tell me to make myself scarce.”
“Of course. I beg your pardon. However, this will hardly concern you!”
“No? Does it concern Quinn?”
Tony nodded reluctantly.
“Then it concerns me. However….” Mark turned to me. “You want me out of the room, Quinn?”
“What is this about, Uncle Tony?”
“My marriage.”
I regarded him thoughtfully. We knew the marriage was over. What more could there be to say about it?
Mark walked over to him. Facing away from us, he leaned close and whispered in Tony’s ear.
Tony’s face suffused with color, which quickly leached out. “You…. Does everyone know?”
Mark shrugged and murmured something else.
“Back off, Vincent.” Bryan came to Tony’s side, facing Mark down. My youngest uncle was one of the mildest-tempered men I knew, but now his body language fairly bristled with warning: one step further and you will regret it!
As for Mark, he was grinning, that manic expression I disliked seeing on his face.
“Mark. Please.” The last thing I wanted was my uncle coming to blows with my lover, especially when I was certain my uncle wouldn’t come out well.
Mark shrugged again. “I’ll find my own way to the john. Take your time. I’ll make it a point to take mine.” He crossed to the door that led to the keeping room.
“Just a second, Mark. I’ll show you the way.” Now that there was some distance between Mark and my uncle, I could breathe a little easier, but I needed to make sure he knew I had no objection to him being present when family matters were being discussed.
His eyes had taken on that flat look, and he didn’t respond.
“Mark?” I gripped his arm, giving it a shake until he met my gaze. “It’s going to take a while for them to trust you.”
“I get it, Quinn. Believe me, I get it. I’m not using this as an excuse to let you break up with me.”
Relief overwhelmed me. I hadn’t realized how the fear of that had lurked at the back of my mind. It hadn’t taken much for him to try to break up with me last spring.
Well, no, that was wrong. I’d fucked him, and at the time, that had been a big deal to him.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Gregor snapped. “Vincent’s a big boy, and I’m sure your uncle wanting to keep this in the family is nothing for him to get his hair in a curl over.”
“Either Mark’s part of the family or he’s not. He has a right to know. I have a right to know.”
“Jesus, Vincent, can you be any more of a troublemaker?”
“Gregor, enough.” Mother touched his arm. “Mark has done a good deal for us.”
“Yes, he has. Quinton, Mark, please stay.” Tony gazed around at the family. “I’m being overly cautious, which at my age is not only foolish, it’s ridiculous. Consider it a legacy from years in the NSA.” He went to the couch, taking Bryan with him, and sat down. “None of this fiasco of a marriage was Cara Mia’s fault; I want you to understand that. She’s a wonderful young woman, with a wonderful daughter.”
“She called to leave a very gracious thank-you message on my answering machine,” I said.
Tony nodded. “I wouldn’t expect any less from her. In spite of what you all must think, she wasn’t a way for me to recapture my youth, or for me to have a family. I already have one.” Again he gazed at each one of us, waiting until we each gave a sign of agreement before moving on to finally settle on Bryan, where it softened.
“Why did you marry her then, Anthony?” Mother regarded him thoughtfully.
“Yeah, you were never the Galahad type.” That remark earned Jeff a glower from Tony.
“I had my reasons,” he said stiffly.
“Are you going to share them with us?”
“No, I don’t believe I will, Jefferson. Now if I may continue? She wouldn’t tell me how she got involved with Adam ’Nme, but that never hindered a Sebring from learning what he needs to learn.”
“Or she,” Mother interjected, raising an elegant eyebrow.
He smiled at her and conceded gracefully, “Or she. I was able to discover through my sources that Cara Mia met him shortly after college. ’Nme—not his real name, by the way—was a number of years older, charming and sophisticated, and he persuaded her to marry him. Things went well for the first year or so. He showered her with jewels and clothes, a mansion and a yacht. He had told her he was in importing, and only gradually did she realize what he was importing was drugs. He became more and more controlling, and it didn’t take long before he became physically abusive. At first, he’d apologize and bring her flowers, and swear it would never happen again. But then he began blaming her for his violent outbursts of temper. She couldn’t go to her family. He’d threatened them once, and she believed him. She had no one she could go to.”
He paused, and Bryan gripped his hand and picked up the story.
“It got better when she became pregnant, but once she’d given birth, it grew worse. He’d wanted a son, expected a son. How anyone could fail to love Sunday…? He ignored her, for the most part.”
“Until the day Cara Mia decided she’d had enough,” Mark said. He met their stunned gazes. “Then he saw the little girl as a way of keeping a hold on the mother.”
“How did you know…?”
Mark raised an eyebrow, and I couldn’t help chuckling. “He’s the WBIS’s top agent. Did you expect anything less?”
“I suppose you know what happened to him,” Gregor demanded sourly.
“Sure. He’s out of the picture. Permanently.”
“Mark, you didn’t—”
“You told me you didn’t want me to, remember?” He gave me an annoyed look. “Besides, when would I have time to go out to L.A. to take care of him?”
“Four hours there, two or less to find and take care of ’Nme, four hours back. If you say you had no hand in it, I’ll believe you
, but you could have done it.”
“Okay, as long as you know it wasn’t me.”
“No.” Tony smiled as he watched our interaction, but then grew serious. “It was John Cisco.”
“It was my idea to have him look after Cara Mia and Sunday,” Bryan explained. “I’d known him since he worked in the ATF.” But the way he glanced at Tony made it clear to me he’d been concerned for his brother as much as his brother’s wife and stepdaughter. Tony was eighty now, and he just wouldn’t have been able to deal with a man like Adam ’Nme.
“John’s a good man,” Mark said as he plucked something off the sleeve of his tux.
“I know that; I’m not going to ask how you know that, Mark.” Tony scrubbed his face. “He was keeping an eye on Cara Mia and Sunday while we were here in October. Apparently he’d been in love with her for some time, and that was when she realized she loved him too. As soon as the annulment is finalized, they’re going to be married.”
“Oh, Anthony!” Mother was clearly upset.
“No, Portia, don’t blame them. And don’t blame yourself for that accident. I had already come to the conclusion that deciding to marry Cara Mia wasn’t one of my more well thought-out ideas. And so I filed for an annulment.”
“Why an annulment, Tony?” Jefferson asked.
Ludovic, sitting beside him, elbowed his side and looked uncomfortable.
“Jesus,” Mark whispered, “isn’t anything sacred?”
“I’d think you would want to know,” I whispered back.
“I do know. So do you. You told me, remember?”
I frowned at him, remembering how he’d gotten me to tell him about the annulment. “Well, pretend you don’t know. It would embarrass him.”
“You think it was annulled because he couldn’t get it up?” He started to laugh.
“You want to share the joke with us, Vincent?” Gregor glared at him.
“Nope.” Mark curled his lip in return.
I sighed. Would they ever tolerate each other?
“Y’know something, Quinn? That buffet does look delicious.”
“You can eat after that dinner we had?”
“Hey, that was hours ago.” He grinned at me. “I’m gonna wash my hands.”
“Use the powder room through the wet bar.”
