After the meal, the men retire to the portico for cigars. The ladies meander back to the sitting room where a fire is crackling. Vivian pours after-dinner drinks—port wine in tiny stemmed glasses. I sink into the settee nearest the fire, full from dinner and happy to be away from Archer for a few blessed minutes. He’s been so intense since we arrived, I swear I’ve caught it. I have to mentally remind myself to pull my shoulders out from under my ears.
“Lainey, where’s your port?” Cris asks.
“Hot tea for me. It’s been a long day of dinner-party planning.” She offers me a warm smile. “I’m glad you joined us tonight, Talia.”
“So am I,” I say, and it’s the truth. Archer might be stressed out, but so far I haven’t seen evidence that his parents are unbearable. I wonder if William and Archer have simply chipped away at each other over the years. Kind of like the way crashing waves beat shoreline rocks into craggy, jagged edges.
“Do come see us again.” She touches my shoulder in an elegant but motherly way. Even though she’s nothing like my own mother, who was more boisterous and outspoken, Lainey obviously loves her children and makes it a point to show support with her presence.
“I love her,” Vivian says after Lainey leaves the room. “It’s nice to have a mom again.” To me, she adds, “My mother is no longer living.”
“Neither is mine.” I share a sad smile she returns.
“Lainey is the best,” Cris agrees, plopping down next to me with her own wee glass of port wine. “My mom is alive, she’s just…uninvolved in my and my three brothers’ lives.”
We sip from our glasses and watch the fire, the moment passing in silent ode to the loss of our mothers in some form or fashion.
“What’s up with William and Archer?” I ask, fishing for details after the beat of unplanned silence.
“You noticed that, huh?” Cris asks rhetorically. “Rumor has it Will wasn’t fond of any of Archer’s past girlfriends, though I haven’t seen him with a woman I’d consider a girlfriend in a long time.” She pauses to regard the ceiling. “Maybe not ever. He rarely brings a date anywhere, and to a dinner of this magnitude? Unheard of.”
“You’re making her nervous,” Vivian says from her seat on an armchair across from us. “Will and Archer butt heads about work. I’ve overheard them bickering. Will wishes Archer would have built churches or something.”
“Churches?” I ask with a giggle. “A far cry from nightclubs.”
“Not really. There is dancing, and usually God’s name is mentioned.” Viv gives me a wry smile. “Have you been to Club Nine?”
I shake my head. “One of Archer’s?”
“Vivian and Nate were engaged there,” Cris says. “Will and Lainey were there that night. Will’s not totally reluctant, I think he’s just worried.”
“Well, that runs in the family,” I say before I take another sip of my port. It’s sweet and smooth and delicious. I notice both women leaning in, as if waiting for me to continue. “Archer and I… I’m not sure what we are to each other. After I wrecked his car he refused to leave my side. I sprained my wrist, not even a break, and he checked on me every five minutes.”
“Which was fairly easy since you were next to him in bed.” Viv smirks at me. My cheeks grow warm. I blame the fire and the wine.
“That did make it more convenient,” I say.
“Well, I just love this!” Cris slaps her thigh with one hand. “Archer seems happy. You seem happy.” Her eyes glaze over with the sort of hope reserved for the lovesick around the globe.
“We are enjoying each other’s company while I’m here,” I say carefully. “One of the reasons I secured an LLC was because I want to continue working for myself, hopefully based closer to home where my sister and father live.”
Vivian nods, but her expression is careful. “So, it’s fairly new? He hasn’t been hiding your relationship from us since last spring?”
“It was strictly professional until recently.” I decide to avoid mentioning him punching out my ex-boyfriend or sexing me up, down, and sideways during the rest of that lovely Sunday. “There was a lot of email-flirting leading up to that, though.”
“Well, he’s into you. It’s obvious.” Cris shrugs like she’s said something impossible to argue with. I don’t, not wanting to turn our dessert-wine chat into an intense speech about how I’m not looking for permanence. The last time I tried for permanence, I was engaged. The consequences were too steep to mention.
“We’re good friends. His concern is touching.” Lame, lame, lame.
Neither Cris nor Vivian argue, but their disappointment is evident in their tight smiles.
“Who, uh, who helped with your LLC?” Cris asks, clumsily but blessedly changing the subject.
“Kathleen Stapleton.”
Cris nods with familiarity. “She’s great.”
“She was knowledgeable and friendly. Both of which I appreciated.” The turn of topic is tepid, but I settle in and focus on the company.