Page 154 of Playing By Ear

Like falcons. Jamie felt a pang of longing in his chest for Perry, and for Barb and Boh and their four floofy weans. All of them seemed a million miles away.

Jamie tried to eavesdrop, but the words of Martin and Middle Tony were lost beneath the blare of “Shattered” by the Rolling Stones. Tony sat with elbows propped on the chair arms, his head lowered respectfully. He gave an occasional nod as he listened to Martin speak.

Stuart kept his gaze on the two men as he spoke to Jamie. “Bel telt me Tony approached you about divvying up the firm and selling it for parts.” His mouth twisted. “It’s an insult to the MacKray name.”

Jamie couldn’t agree, but he had to say something. “You think he’s making the same offer to Dad right now?”

“If he was, Martin would throttle him where he sat.” Stuart’s fingers curled as he stroked his short dark beard, as though they longed to strangle the man himself.

“Dad wouldn’t commit one way or the other today. If he’s interested, he’d play it cool to get a bigger payout. If he’s not interested, he cannae dismiss it out of hand without offending the Coyles.”

Stuart gave him an appraising look. “After being away ten years, you think you know your da’s mind?”

Jamie shrugged. Unlike Stuart, he was simply not projecting his own wishes onto Martin.

Stuart glanced down. “You all right on your feet all day, with the ankle?”

“I’ll live.” Ooft, that sounded brusque, and with his brother-in-law maybe sort of trying to be nice. “I cannae believe it, but I actually miss going to the gym. Not that I’ve had the time or energy this week.”

“It’s normal life upended, int’it?” Stuart angled his body toward Jamie while keeping his eyes on Martin. “If you need a break and want an upper-body workout, there’s weights at our house. I could look after your da for an hour or two.”

“Oh. Thanks. I might do that.” He spied Belinda at the back door. “Better get back to my station before the boss noises me up.”

He set Anna’s biscuit tin on the kitchen table among the mass of food gifts, then returned to the front hall. There he made idle chatter with the Talbots from down the street, all while keeping an eye on his dad and Middle Tony. The two men’s conversation had taken what looked like an intense turn.

Finally Tony stood and shook Martin’s hand again. Then, instead of continuing into the kitchen like everyone else, he headed for the hall—and straight for Jamie.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder as he passed. “Gonnae no worry,” he said. “You’ll get your due.” Then he exited through the front door, earning glares from visitors who had to step aside for his upstream swim.

His “due”? Did that mean Martin was considering the liquidation? Jamie could read no clues on his father’s face, and a glance at Stuart showed his brother-in-law looking just as confused and ten times as suspicious. Did Stuart think Jamie was somehow conspiring with Martin and Middle Tony? The idea would have made Jamie laugh if he still had the energy.

The final guest left at half past eight that evening. Jamie expected Martin to immediately drop from exhaustion, but he seemed revved up by the experience.

Belinda came into the living room, paging through the guest book. “Over two hundred people came today.”

Martin tilted his head, evaluating the figure. “Not bad. Gonnae make sure more people than that come to the funeral.”

“We’ll do our best.” Jamie’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to read the new text message. “The hospital bed’s coming tomorrow.”

“Actually, they call them profiling beds,” Belinda said in a loud whisper.

“Why?” Aunt Rosie asked at full volume. “Is it to be less depressing? How could this situation be any less depressing?”

“I think you mean ‘any more depressing,’” said Aunt Norma.

“I was thinking,” Jamie said to his father before the aunties could start a row, “you might want to sleep in your current bed tonight.” One last time.

Martin nodded without hesitation. “Just lemme…” He cast his gaze about the living room. “Just need a wee minute.”

His sisters went upstairs to tidy the master bedroom and put on a fresh set of bedclothes, while Belinda nipped back to her house to pick up Layla.

Jamie and Stuart retreated to the kitchen to sort the food gifts into Keep, Donate, and Bin piles.

As they divided yet another dish of shepherd’s pie into plastic storage containers, Stuart said, “Your da was a star today. Dunno where he got all that energy.”

“Dexamethasone.”

“Sorry?”