by Tinnean
“Sure. And I’ll take my time, in case there’s anything else you want to discuss.”
I cuffed his shoulder, and he rubbed it as if the mild blow had hurt him.
“Charlatan.”
“Moi?” He pressed a hand to his chest, trying for an innocent look. He didn’t succeed.
“Yes, toi.”
“Quinn?” He became very still, but I knew him well enough to read the surprised pleasure on his face. Or perhaps he just let me read it.
I gave him an innocent look of my own, certain I’d be more successful, and he left the room, laughing softly.
“What was that about, Quinn?”
“Just the conclusion to a discussion we were having in the car,” I told Bryan. “So tell me, are you going to miss Cara Mia and Sunday?”
“Actually, they’re going to be living in the guest house beyond the garden.”
“Are you going to be okay with that, Uncle Tony?”
“Yes. I always saw Cara Mia more as the daughter of a colleague than as a lover.”
“Well, that’s a good thing.”
“It’s nice to know how well thought of I am by my family.”
“Well, you are.” Bryan went to the buffet and stood before the cheese platter. “Shall I fix you something, big brother?”
“Yes, if you would? You know what I like.”
Bryan smiled and turned to pick up a plate, putting wedges and slices of various cheeses on it, as well as crackers.
“Mother?” I called over my shoulder as I joined my uncle at the buffet.
“No, that’s okay, Quinn. I’ll get it for her.” Gregor put a semicircle of miniature egg rolls on a plate. He knew Mother well enough to know she preferred the hot mustard over the duck sauce, and added that.
“I’ll get one for you too, shall I, Jefferson?”
“Thanks, Ludo.”
“Are you happy with him, Quinn?” Bryan asked.
“Yes. I am.”
“That’s what’s important.”
“He was happy with that French kid until he broke his heart,” Gregor sniped.
“Did you ever finish that koi pond, Bryan?” Ludo asked, deliberately changing the subject. I was grateful. I was beginning to realize more and more how foolish my assumption had been all those years ago. “Jefferson is planning on having one put in for me.”
“That was supposed to be a birthday surprise!”
We all laughed at Jeff’s affronted exclamation.
“As a matter of fact…,” Uncle Bryan began.
XII
IN A matter of minutes, it would be midnight and the start of 2003.
There was little left on the buffet. The television had been tuned to Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve.
I was sitting beside my mother on the large comfortable couch while Mark lounged at her other side.
“Your grandmother used to love celebrating New Year’s Eve,” she murmured. “Until 1959, she and Grandfather would travel up to New York. They’d stay at the Roosevelt Hotel. And while she shopped or went to the theater, he’d attend meetings, sometimes with the mayor, sometimes with the governor, sometimes with the secretary-general. But on New Year’s Eve, Grandfather always made a point of taking her to the Roosevelt Grill so she could see Guy Lombardo and the Royal Canadians and waltz to ‘Auld Lang Syne’ at midnight.”
“It was the least he could do.” Tony stood, took Bryan’s plate, and walked to the buffet.
“I wasn’t done,” Bryan said mildly.
“Yes, you were.”
Bryan smiled at him and didn’t argue.
“Why do you say that, Tony?” Jeff asked.
“His plate is—”
“Don’t be an ass. I’m talking about Father taking Mother dancing being the least he could do.”
Tony sighed. “She wasn’t his one.”
Jeff’s face became cold. “That explains a lot.”
Mother looked at him in some surprise. “You never knew?”
He hunched a shoulder. “I was never home much, and as a boy… well, what child looks closely into his parents’ marriage? Just a second! You mean to say that you did?”
“I spent a good deal of time with Mother after I left the NSA. She didn’t discuss her marriage, but it was more than what she didn’t say; it was how she’d look when I spoke of Nigel.”
“That was the only time I ever saw him dance with Mother,” Tony mused pensively. “I sneaked down one New Year’s Eve when I was about ten—that was before he started taking her to New York—and watched them. I don’t know. Maybe I hoped to see them kiss? But they were so proper and contained. Of course they caught me. I attempted to persuade Mother I’d simply wanted a taste of champagne and tried to wheedle her into giving me a glass.”
“And?” Bryan nudged him to continue.
“Father got that look on his face—you know the one I’m talking about?”
Bryan nodded, and Jeff said, “Oh, yes, I remember. Whenever he looked like that, I’d be tempted to head for the hills!”
“But of course you never did.”
“Of course not!” He deepened his tone. “Sebrings do not behave in that manner!”
“Just keep in mind I got to hear that a good deal longer than either of you did.”
“I don’t remember Grandfather speaking like that,” I said. Both Mark’s plate and mine were empty. “Can I get you something else?”
He shook his head, and I took the plates to the buffet. His grandparents on both sides had died before he was born, and he was listening with interest.
Tony watched us, one eyebrow raised, but he didn’t make any observations about our interaction. “He was older when you knew him, Quinn. He was starting to mellow. At any rate, he let Mother give me a glass. Well, insisted was more like it. Of course I told him it was delicious and finished the whole thing, but the truth of the matter was I didn’t care for it at all. And the next morning I had such a headache and was so sick to my stomach, I swore I’d never touch another drop of champagne in my life.”
Bryan smiled. “And how long did that last, big brother?”
“Until V-J Day. That day it was almost obligatory; every time I turned around, someone was shoving a glass of champagne into my hand. Now I’ll drink it, but it’s not my favorite wine.”
“You might enjoy the champagne we’ve brought,” I told him.
Jefferson and Ludovic retrieved the bottle of Dom Perignon and eight champagne flutes. The cork was popped, flutes filled, and we each took one, then rose to stand around the television to watch as the ball descended.
“… five, four…”
“Here, here, quick!” Gregor handed out noisemakers to each of us.
“Jesus!” Mark growled.
I responded, sotto voce, “Well, at least he isn’t making us wear pointed hats!”
“… two, one, Happy New Year!”
While Dick Clark enthused about the thirty-five hundred pounds of confetti that was falling from the sky on the revelers, and the fireworks that lit up Times Square, we blew on the noisemakers, toasted the New Year, and with the initial glasses of champagne finished, went one by one to kiss Mother’s cheek.
Gregor raised Mother’s hand to his lips and smiled into her eyes.
Jeff hugged his partner and kissed him warmly.
Mark didn’t kiss me, just shook my hand. The look in his eyes, though—it promised more for afterward, much more.
Mother reached for her cane. Gregor made sure she was steady on her feet, then stood to the side as she crossed the floor to join Tony and Bryan.
She rested her palm against Tony’s cheek. “I hope by next New Year’s Eve, you’ll have found your one.”
He shrugged. “I think that possibility has passed me by. And forgive me for saying this, but seeing how miserable Johanna made you, Bryan, and seeing how alone you’ve been since Nigel died, Portia, I believe I prefer it that way.”
“It wasn’t all misery, big brother.” There was
a slight smile on Bryan’s face.
“No, only most of it.” Tony gripped Bryan’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Johanna was a witch to you.”
“Hey! My arthritis!” But he didn’t contradict his brother’s words about his ex-wife. I’d visited Bryan at the house he shared with Johanna and her children, and I’d never been in a more emotionally chilly place.
“Your joints are younger than mine.” Tony chuckled, but his expression was rueful.
“And I’ve hardly been alone, Tony,” Mother reminded him. “I’ve had Quinton. And my brothers.” Her smile included Ludo. “And of course, Gregor. And now Mark.”
Mark started choking, and I pounded his back.
“Enough, enough!” he said, irritated, and I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him.
“And as for me,” Mother said, “frankly, I would live these twenty—” Her voice cracked. “These twenty-five years without Nigel a hundred times over rather than to never have had the time I did spend with him.”
“Dammit, Portia, I didn’t mean….” Tony suddenly looked all of his eighty years.
Oh God, I’d completely forgotten this was the anniversary of Father’s passing. I went to her and embraced her. “I’m so sorry, Mother.”
“Don’t be, sweetheart.” She leaned against me and gazed up into my eyes. Her lashes were spiked with unshed tears.
I fumbled in my pockets, but it was Mark who handed her a handkerchief, and she dabbed at her eyes.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She smiled at him.
“Uh….” Mark looked shell-shocked.
I left Mother’s side to retrieve my half-filled champagne flute. “Here, Mark.” I handed it to him.
“Uh… thanks.” He knocked it back, and I didn’t remind him this was a vintage to be treated with more respect.
“What’s troubling you, Gregor?” Ludo asked suddenly. He was the quintessential host, looking to the comfort of all his guests.
“What should be bothering me?” But it was easy to see something was.
“Gregor?” Mother’s tone was gentle.
“Quinn kissed Vincent.”
“Yeah, so?” Mark gave him a bored stare.
“I’m sorry, Mark,” I murmured. We’d always been discreet, and now, because I hadn’t been able to resist him, I’d caused a scene on what should have been a pleasant holiday.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said in an undertone. “They had to have had some idea of what we do when we’re alone.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“We’re supposed to believe you never told anyone you’ve been—” The fact I was laughing seemed to irritate Gregor even more. I was sorry about that, but I wasn’t going to deny that Mark made me happy.
“Don’t say it, Novotny,” Mark growled.
Gregor glanced at Mother and bit back whatever had been on the tip of his tongue.
“And besides, why would I?”
“A promotion, maybe?” He sneered at Mark. “This would be choice gossip around the water cooler at WBIS.”
“I don’t gossip.” Mark’s face took on that flat expression, and the temperature suddenly felt as if it had dropped twenty degrees. “And I’ve got a newsflash for you: unlike other agencies, the WBIS doesn’t care two shits about what its agents do in their private lives. Excuse me, Portia.”
“You’re excused, Mark.” Mother turned her head away, but not before I saw the smile that lightened her features.
“Thanks. And in spite of what you might think of me, Novotny, I don’t betray my friends in exchange for a corner office.”
“And Quinn’s a friend?”
“He’s more than a friend, and you know it. And if you don’t, you’re a—”
“Mark?” I touched his arm. I’d never seen him lose his temper before, and I couldn’t help but be fascinated.
“What?”
“Will there be a problem because we’re involved?”
“Didn’t I already tell you ‘no’?”
“In spite of the fact that I am who I am?”
“Jesus, what does that matter? Sorry, Portia.”
“If you’re going to apologize every time you swear in my presence, Mark, it’s going to get very wearing.”
“But Portia, he’s right to apologize!” Gregor said, and he looked so galled at having to admit that Mark might be right about something that I had to bite back a chuckle.
“Let me make this perfectly clear. I’m an adult woman, and I’ve heard worse in my lifetime. And as little as you all may want to believe this, I’ve said worse a time or two myself!”
That announcement resulted in a moment of startled silence.
“Oh, Mother, say it isn’t so!” In spite of my words, I was laughing.
“Scamp!” She pinched my chin.
“I’m sorry, Portia,” Gregor said. He shifted uncomfortably. “Vincent….”
“You’re worried about Quinn. I get it.” Mark approached him, leaned down, and whispered in his ear.
Gregor stared into his eyes for a long minute, and then nodded. He turned to Mother. “Would you like another glass of champagne, or a cup of coffee, Portia?”
“Champagne, please.”
“Well,” Jeff said as he picked up the bottle of Dom Perignon and poured a measure into the flute Gregor was holding. “If all the excitement is over for this New Year’s Eve, would anyone else care for a refill?”
XIII
“DID you enjoy yourself, Mark?” We were in the bedroom that had been mine since my childhood. I stood in front of the mirror above the double dresser, tugging gently at my bow tie and watching his reflection.
“Yeah.”
“You sound surprised.”
“No, why would I…. Yeah. I guess I am.” He removed his tuxedo jacket and looked around.
“Hangers are in the closet.”
“Which is where?”
I nodded toward the wall. “That bunch of grapes is the doorknob.”
“Yeah? Unbelievable.”
“It’s just….”
“No, don’t say ‘it’s just’. You’ve lived with this all your life. You don’t have any idea how amazing it is. Your bedroom has a bathroom that’s attached, there’s a playroom through that door, and those French doors open onto a balcony at the back of the house. Which you could have pointed out to me on our way here, by the way.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not. You were so busy kissing me I didn’t even think of it.”
“That’s right, I was.” He sounded insufferably smug about it, and I couldn’t help chuckling. “Y’know, you and Jeff and Ludo make a great trio.”
“It’s been a long time since we’ve done that.” After we’d finished the champagne, Jeff and I had sat beside each other on the piano bench, and Ludo had picked up his guitar. We’d played a variety of songs, ending, appropriately enough, with “Auld Lang Syne.”
“Bryan has a good voice.”
“So do Mother and Tony.”
“Well, if you ever fall on hard times, you can put together an act and take it on the road: the Von Sebring Family Singers. And I’ll be your manager!”
“Yes? And you and I can have sex in your office while I’m trying to convince you to cut us a better deal?”
His hands lingered on his bow tie. “Think you can persuade me with your sweet mouth?” He loosened it with a tug and tossed it aside.
“Whatever it takes, Mark.” I stepped closer to him, offering him my mouth, and slid my hands behind his back to unfasten his cummerbund.
Before he could lean down to take my lips, I started laughing and withdrew my hands. From one dangled his cummerbund, and in the other was a small pistol.
“Well, you can never tell, Quinn.” He shrugged and tried to act indifferent, but color was high on his cheeks. “Road rage, New Year’s Eve. Not a good combination.”
“And you wanted to be ready to….”
“Protect you? Damn
straight.”
I hadn’t been about to say that, but even though I was well able to take care of myself, I found I liked the idea. “Thank you, Mark.”
“Don’t mention it.” He tipped my chin up and rubbed his lips against mine. In seconds, the kiss had deepened, and before long, we were both breathless. “Sweet,” he whispered, his lips still touching mine, and I could feel heat rising from my groin to the roots of my hair. “I want you naked.”
“Yes!” My cock pressed harder against my fly, and the sweet sting of desire pooled languidly in my groin. “You’ll have to let me go.”
“Okay. But only under protest.” He cupped my cheek and stole another kiss, then released me and stepped back.
I set aside his pistol and his cummerbund, and as I removed mine, I informed him, “We’re still going riding.”
“I thought Portia hadn’t been given clearance to ride yet.”
“She hasn’t, but she’ll stay home and supervise as Gregor helps Olive make dinner.” I unfastened my trousers and stepped out of them. “So tell me what surprised you about tonight.”
“Your uncles.”
“You’d met Jeff and Ludo.” I realized it was only the week before, and I was startled at how much had happened in the intervening days.
“Don’t be dense, Mann. You know I’m talking about Tony and Bryan.”
“They seem to have accepted you.”
“Yeah, but that’s not….” He began undoing the shirt studs, piling them neatly on the dresser. “It’s how protective they are of each other.”
“That’s always been a family trait.”
“Along with answering a question with a question?”
“As you say.” I grinned at him and then grew pensive. “It’s only in the past couple of years that they’ve become close again. Bryan decided to retire, and I don’t know who was more surprised when Tony announced he was retiring as well and would be moving out to the West Coast to make sure he didn’t get into mischief. Mother told me once that when they were boys, Bryan had idolized Tony, had followed him everywhere, and that Tony—I guess doted on him is the only phrase that fits. After Tony came home from the war, they seemed to drift apart.”
“It happens sometimes.” He’d stripped down to his shorts and undershirt, and I could trace the shape of his cock through the fine material of his boxers.
