I’m In No Mood For Love by Rachel Gibson Page B

his ducks in the Western Idaho Fair and won. What kind of duck was it, Leo?”
    “A shoveler drake.”
    “It was beautiful.” Clare’s face lit up as if she’d carved it herself.
    “What did you win?” Sebastian asked his father.
    “Nothing.” Color rose up Leo’s neck above the collar of his beige shirt. “Just a blue ribbon, is all.”
    “A huge blue ribbon. You’re too modest. The competition was stiff. Veni vidi vici.”
    Sebastian watched the flush creep into his father’s cheeks. “I came, I saw, I kicked some bird-carving ass?”
    “Well,” Leo said as he looked down at the carpet, “it wasn’t anything like the important awards you win, but it was nice.”
    Sebastian had been unaware that his father knew about his journalistic awards. He didn’t recall mentioning them the few times they’d spokenthroughout the years, but he must have said something.
    Joyce entered the dinning room wearing all black, like the angel of doom, and put an end to the discussion of ducks and awards. “Hmm,” she said, and pointed to the sideboard. “Now that I see it, I’m not sure I like it there.” She pushed a side of her short gray bob behind her ear with one hand and twisted the pearl necklace around her throat with the other. “Well, I’ll have to think about it.” She turned to the three people in front of her and placed her palms on her bony hips. “I’m glad we’re all in the same room because I’ve an idea.” She looked at her daughter. “In case you’ve forgotten, Leo turns sixty-five on Saturday, and next month marks his thirtieth year of employment with us. As you know, he is invaluable and practically a member of the family. In certain respects, much more than Mr. Wingate ever was.”
    “Mother,” Clare warned.
    Joyce held up one slim hand. “I had thought to put together something next month to mark both occasions, but I really think that since Sebastian is in town, we should put together a small gathering of Leo’s friends this weekend.”
    “We?”
    “This weekend?” Sebastian hadn’t planned to stay through the weekend.
    Joyce turned to Clare. “I know you’ll want to help with the arrangements.”
    “Of course I’ll help as much as I can. I work most days until four, but after that I’m free.”
    “Surely you can take a few days off.”
    Clare looked as if she might argue, but at the last moment she pasted one of her fake smiles on her face. “Not a problem. I’ll be happy to do whatever I can.”
    “I don’t know.” Leo shook his head. “It sounds like a lot of trouble, and Sebastian doesn’t know when he might be leavin’.”
    “I’m sure he can stay a few more days.” Then the woman who’d once banished him from her land like a queen asked, “Can’t you please stay?”
    He opened his mouth to tell her no, but something else came out instead. “Why not?” he heard himself say.
    Why not? There were several good reasons why not. First, he wasn’t sure more time wouldn’t make his relationship with his father less awkward. Second, his Newsweek article obviously wasn’t going to get written at his father’s kitchen table. Third, he had to deal with his mother’s estate, although calling it an estate was a stretch. The fourth and fifth good reasons stood in front of him: one was clearly relieved by his decision, the other annoyed and still pretending he was invisible.
    “Wonderful.” Joyce brought her hands together and placed her fingers beneath her chin. “Since you’re here, Clare, we can get started right now.”
    “Actually, Mother, I need to leave.” She turned to Sebastian and asked, “Would you walk me out?”
    Suddenly he wasn’t invisible after all. He was sure Clare had something to say about the other night, some blank spots that she wanted him to fill in for her, and he debated whether to leave her hanging. In the end he was curious about what she might ask. “Sure.” He pushed away from the sideboard and pulled his hands from his