Envy(112)

“Then don’t bother her.” Daniel settled into one of the easy chairs and propped his cane beside it. “I worked up quite a thirst during my nap.”

Noah laughed easily as he crossed to the table that served as a bar. “Thirsty work, naps. Double scotch?”

“On the rocks, please.”

“I called the deli in town. They’ll soon be delivering double-thick Reuben sandwiches, potato salad made with real mayo, chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream for dessert.”

“God, I love the bachelor life,” Daniel said as he accepted the drink from his son-in-law. “What a good idea this was.”


* * *


Maris was glad she had changed for dinner because for the first time since her arrival, it was being served in the formal dining room, the hanging ghost notwithstanding.

She was wearing a gray silk dress she had bought early in the season at Bergdorf’s, thinking it would be perfect for dinner out in the country. She reasoned that the lightweight fabric, slip-style bodice, and flared skirt were also perfect for dinner at home in an antebellum plantation house. She had accessorized it with a choker of pale coral beads.

Mike had laid a beautiful table. Fragrant magnolia blossoms had been arranged in a crystal bowl in the center of the table, flanked by silver candlesticks with white tapers. He’d used china, silver, and crystal stemware that represented good taste and a sizable investment.

“This is lovely, Mike,” she remarked as he held the lyre-back chair for her.

“Don’t be too impressed,” Parker said from his place at the head of the table. “It’s all rented for the evening.”

“Yes, from Terry’s Bar and Grill,” Mike said drolly. “Besides smoking baby back ribs, he does a huge formal party rental business.”

She laughed. “Wherever it came from, I like it.”

“It all belonged to Parker’s mother,” Mike informed her as he poured the wine, forgetting that he’d delegated that job to her.

She looked toward Parker for confirmation. “The tableware was handed down through generations of Mom’s family. It was bequeathed to either the first daughter or daughter-in-law. My mother had neither, so it came to me by default. It’s been in storage since she died. This is the first time it’s been used.” He slid a glance toward Mike. “Can’t imagine what the special occasion is.”

Maris raised her wineglass. “To the completion of Envy.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Mike raised his glass.

“It’s not finished yet,” Parker reminded them, but he raised his glass all the same.

The crystal stems sounded like chimes when they clinked them together. The Pinot Grigio was cold and crisp, a perfect complement to the meal Mike had prepared.

Parker might have disavowed that this was a special occasion, but she noticed that he had changed for dinner, too. She wondered if Mike had mandated the extra grooming or if it had been voluntary. Although his only nod toward styling his hair was to rake his fingers through it, the tousled look suited him. He had recently shaved; she could smell the sandalwood soap. He was wearing his customary casual pants, but his shirt was tucked in. The sleeves were rolled back to just below his elbows, revealing his strong forearms.

The candlelight blurred the lines that years of pain had etched into his face. It softened the hardness that resentment had stamped on his features and allayed the bitterness that compromised his smiles.

He also seemed to be relaxed and enjoying himself. While they ate, he regaled them with wild stories about Terry, of Bar and Grill fame, who was reputed to be everything from a modern-day pirate to a drug runner to a white slave trader.

“I don’t know or care which rumor is true or if any of them are. He grills one hell of a burger.”

Maris shuddered at the memory of the tavern. “I can’t recommend the place. Totally unsavory clientele.”

“Hey!” Parker said, looking affronted.

She gracefully turned the conversation back to the book. “The tension mounts.”

“I presume you mean between Roark and Todd.”

“It’s becoming palpable,” she said. “What I read today leads me to believe that it’s soon to come to a head.”

“I’m giving nothing away.”

“A hint? Please?”

He looked at Mike. “Think I should divulge a few plot twists?”

The older man considered it for several seconds. “She is your editor.”

“That’s right, I is,” Maris declared. They laughed, then she leaned toward Parker to make her appeal. “What if you’re about to make a fatal mistake, editorially speaking? If you talk me through the next few scenes, I could steer you clear of any potential pitfalls and save you a lot of rewrites.”

Parker’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You know what that sounds like? A veiled threat.”

“Not at all.” She flashed him a saccharine smile. “It’s outright extortion.”

He placed his palm over the mouth of his wineglass, and his strong fingers absently traced the pattern cut into the crystal. His eyes remained on her. She looked back at him with challenge.

Mike pushed back his chair and stood up. “Who’s ready for strawberry sorbet? I made it myself from fresh berries.”