“It does.” He picked up a lid. “Got a spoon?”
“Here,” Jean said from his other side as she handed him one.
“There you are!” Mrs. Frazier said from behind them. “Jean, dear, give me a glass of that wine. Better yet, Colin, pour me a shot of tequila.”
Gemma stayed by the stove and watched as Colin and Jean hurried to do her bidding. She couldn’t help thinking that they were a beautiful couple, her so tall and lovely, him so strong and masculine.
Mrs. Frazier dropped down onto the stool, threw back the shot Colin handed her, then chased it with half a glass of wine. “Now I feel better.”
“What has set you off into binge drinking?” Colin asked, an eyebrow raised.
“I hardly think that this small amount constitutes a binge. In fact—” Mrs. Frazier broke off as she drained the rest of the wine and held out her glass for more.
“Where is everyone?” Mr. Frazier asked as he came into the kitchen. “Alea, are you getting drunk? Without me? Colin! Alcohol quick!”
He grabbed another glass and poured his father a shot. After the second one, Mr. Frazier put the glass down and collapsed onto a stool next to his wife. “Alea, so help me, if you hire one of those two people I’ll divorce you.”
“If I were stupid enough to employ one of them, I’d let you,” she said.
Gemma, standing apart from the others, drew in her breath.
“Then Gemma gets the job?” Colin asked. He was standing beside Jean, the tequila bottle in his hand.
“Of course.” Mrs. Frazier looked around her son to Gemma. “I never had any doubt. When you saw those old documents I thought you were going to have an orgasm.”
“Mother!” Colin said, while Jean laughed.
Mrs. Frazier kept her eyes on Gemma. “You can’t imagine how much ridicule I’ve had to endure from my own family merely because I want to find out about our history. But right away I saw that you felt the same way I do. And Colin adores you!”
“Mother, I don’t think—” Colin began.
“Tristan,” Jean said loudly, and they all looked at her. “I was thinking that Gemma and Dr. Tris would make a wonderful couple.”
“Good,” Mr. Frazier said. “That boy needs a family.”
Gemma stepped forward to put her hands on the cool countertop; she needed something to hold on to or her knees were going to give way. She had the job. She really and truly had the job. For the next two years—or more—she’d be living in the pretty little guesthouse and finding out the secrets buried in those old documents. And she was being set up for a date with a local.
Right now, her future looked so good she thought she might investigate employment at William and Mary College. Maybe she could get a teaching position there and stay in Edilean forever.
They were all looking at her expectantly, but she didn’t want to tell them her thoughts. “What’s this Tristan’s doctorate in?” Gemma asked.
“Medicine,” Jean answered. “If you’d let me keep bleeding, he’d be here now.”
When the mention of Jean’s injury made people start asking questions, Gemma stepped to the back. The four of them were gathered around the island, listening intently to Jean’s story of how she’d cut herself, and how Gemma had come to her rescue. The screen door was nearby, so Gemma slipped outside.
She stopped near a tall bush that was covered with pink flowers and took a few deep breaths. This is it, she thought. This lovely place would be the site of her first full-time job.
“Overwhelmed?” Colin asked from behind her.
“No,” Gemma said. “Not at all.”
“My family isn’t scaring you off?”
“Just the opposite. But . . .”
“But what?”
“All of you, Jean included, seem very close to each other. I promise I’ll not intrude on you.”