Kemble.”
“Thank you,” Jane murmured.
Then everyone was up from the table and clustering around. Congratulations were offered, gruffly by the men, slapping Kemble on the back, and were accompanied by hugs for Jane from the women. All but Drew. She hung back, watching Jane with cool regard. But in all the eyes there was a sense of puzzlement, disappointment. They didn’t understand what had happened. They weren’t sure Kemble was doing the right thing.
Join the club.
“Girls, why don’t you come with me while I take care of Jane?” Brina’s question was really a command. The women in the room heard that loud and clearly. The female cluster moved off to the living room, an unavoidable wave that washed Jane along with them. Maggie took Jesse to bed and promised she’d be right back to hear all. Jane felt the sand shifting under her feet. What would she say to all the questions they were bound to ask? How would she bear their judgment?
*****
“Well, son, I think a celebratory drink is in order, don’t you?” Senior looked around. “What say we go out on the terrace?”
Kemble nodded. He noted that even Lanyon wasn’t in such a hurry to get to his music now. The grill was about to get hotter.
“I’ll grab some Scotch, unless anyone has another preference. Maybe some girly champagne?” Michael was six foot five of solid muscle. He’d been Delta Force before he met Drew. He could match the Tremaine brothers for height and then some. Michael was short for Michelangelo, the name a gift from his Italian mother. But he got his Merlin gene and the last name of Redmond from a father he hated. At first he hadn’t wanted the business his father left him. But with the conclusion of the contracts now in Senior’s office, it would come under the Tremaine Enterprises umbrella and be redirected to green energy projects and manufacture, the first product being the engine Tristram had built to run on used motor oil. Devin had some ideas for desalinization that looked promising too. Without obligations to his father’s company, Michael could do what he did best—Find things. Right now, he was Finding abducted children. Too bad he couldn’t Find Talismans. The ones Morgan had in her possession were Cloaked by one of the Clan, and Michael would have to know what the others looked like in order to locate them. But Kemble couldn’t provide that data.
As they made their way out the French doors, the men were silent. Only Lanyon and Kemble didn’t have magic. At least Lanyon had hope. He was only twenty-three.
The night air was still brisk at the ocean in May, but the cold felt bracing. The stars were out. The marine layer the locals called June Gloom wouldn’t set in for a few weeks. The grass was wet with dew. Kemble could smell the aroma of his mother’s roses drifting over the salt and seaweed smell of the Pacific. The kitchen windows cast warm channels of light out onto the terrace, but the rumble of waves at the base of the cliff sounded stark and threatening. Kemble wished he could stop here, on the brink of summer, with no judgments yet made by his family about his decision, no aspersions cast, no recriminations. But nothing would stop Senior.
“Well, son, you certainly surprised us.”
Michael appeared with the decanter from the bar in the living room and a stack of glasses. Everyone took a glass and Michael started sloshing Scotch into them.
“Don’t know why you’d be surprised,” Kemble said, taking a gulp. The burn felt good. “We agreed yesterday I needed to get on with life and settle down. Who better than Jane?”
“Jane’s great,” Tristram agreed. “It, uh, just seems kind of sudden.”
“I’ve known I wasn’t going to get magic for a while,” Kemble said. Damn. His tone was defensive. Maybe he should have talked about how long he’d known Jane, not about the magic.
“Nobody knows they have it, until they just . . . do,” Devin said, hesitating. “What if you, uh,
“Thank you,” Jane murmured.
Then everyone was up from the table and clustering around. Congratulations were offered, gruffly by the men, slapping Kemble on the back, and were accompanied by hugs for Jane from the women. All but Drew. She hung back, watching Jane with cool regard. But in all the eyes there was a sense of puzzlement, disappointment. They didn’t understand what had happened. They weren’t sure Kemble was doing the right thing.
Join the club.
“Girls, why don’t you come with me while I take care of Jane?” Brina’s question was really a command. The women in the room heard that loud and clearly. The female cluster moved off to the living room, an unavoidable wave that washed Jane along with them. Maggie took Jesse to bed and promised she’d be right back to hear all. Jane felt the sand shifting under her feet. What would she say to all the questions they were bound to ask? How would she bear their judgment?
*****
“Well, son, I think a celebratory drink is in order, don’t you?” Senior looked around. “What say we go out on the terrace?”
Kemble nodded. He noted that even Lanyon wasn’t in such a hurry to get to his music now. The grill was about to get hotter.
“I’ll grab some Scotch, unless anyone has another preference. Maybe some girly champagne?” Michael was six foot five of solid muscle. He’d been Delta Force before he met Drew. He could match the Tremaine brothers for height and then some. Michael was short for Michelangelo, the name a gift from his Italian mother. But he got his Merlin gene and the last name of Redmond from a father he hated. At first he hadn’t wanted the business his father left him. But with the conclusion of the contracts now in Senior’s office, it would come under the Tremaine Enterprises umbrella and be redirected to green energy projects and manufacture, the first product being the engine Tristram had built to run on used motor oil. Devin had some ideas for desalinization that looked promising too. Without obligations to his father’s company, Michael could do what he did best—Find things. Right now, he was Finding abducted children. Too bad he couldn’t Find Talismans. The ones Morgan had in her possession were Cloaked by one of the Clan, and Michael would have to know what the others looked like in order to locate them. But Kemble couldn’t provide that data.
As they made their way out the French doors, the men were silent. Only Lanyon and Kemble didn’t have magic. At least Lanyon had hope. He was only twenty-three.
The night air was still brisk at the ocean in May, but the cold felt bracing. The stars were out. The marine layer the locals called June Gloom wouldn’t set in for a few weeks. The grass was wet with dew. Kemble could smell the aroma of his mother’s roses drifting over the salt and seaweed smell of the Pacific. The kitchen windows cast warm channels of light out onto the terrace, but the rumble of waves at the base of the cliff sounded stark and threatening. Kemble wished he could stop here, on the brink of summer, with no judgments yet made by his family about his decision, no aspersions cast, no recriminations. But nothing would stop Senior.
“Well, son, you certainly surprised us.”
Michael appeared with the decanter from the bar in the living room and a stack of glasses. Everyone took a glass and Michael started sloshing Scotch into them.
“Don’t know why you’d be surprised,” Kemble said, taking a gulp. The burn felt good. “We agreed yesterday I needed to get on with life and settle down. Who better than Jane?”
“Jane’s great,” Tristram agreed. “It, uh, just seems kind of sudden.”
“I’ve known I wasn’t going to get magic for a while,” Kemble said. Damn. His tone was defensive. Maybe he should have talked about how long he’d known Jane, not about the magic.
“Nobody knows they have it, until they just . . . do,” Devin said, hesitating. “What if you, uh,
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