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The girls, older than the lone male child, would schlep art supplies from their rooms to the enormous coffee table and spread out, and if I was there, I was bidden to come lie down on the couch and read to them whatever book they were interested in at the moment. They took turns, and they kept track.

Tonight, Friday night, it was Lauren’s turn, and she had brought me a tome on sharks. She loved sharks, all sharks, and when she showed me where to start from, I began with the Greenland shark, which lived, on average, four hundred years. After I’d read that, I yawned widely.

“Maybe you should go to bed,” Lauren declared imperiously, sounding exactly like her mother, the comment obviously prompted by what Gigi always said if anyone yawned around her. Of course, Gigi’s response was gentler, kinder—a suggestion, not an order.

“Maybe you should go to bed,” I replied belligerently, looking over at her. She was sitting across the table from Ellie, who was closer with her back to me. They were both adorable in their pajamas, slippers, and robes.

“Really mature.” Gigi shook her head at me.

I pointed at her daughter, and Lauren scoffed, tipping her head back and forth, her auburn hair catching the light.

“Oh dear God,” Stone said, chuckling. “She’s a carbon copy of you.”

Gigi glared at him.

“I did not even hint at that being a bad thing,” he murmured.

“No,” she whispered, clearly appeased. “You did not.”

“Uncle D, you’re not reading,” Ellie reminded me. “I want to hear about the sharks too.”

Technically, I wasn’t her uncle, but we wouldn’t stand on titles. I went back to reading about how Greenland sharks were able to live so long. I wasn’t the least bit surprised to learn that it was their slow digestive systems and the frigid temperature of the water.

“Mr. Davenport,” Tomlinson, the butler, said as he reached Graeme’s side, “there is a Mr. Norwood in the foyer who would like to briefly speak to you. I let him know that it was well past the time when you receive unscheduled visitors, but he said it would take but a moment of your time, and he does seem a trifle distressed. I wouldn’t even have entertained such a notion, but I know Mr. Norwood is a member of the jarl, and he did offer his apologies.”

I straightened up from my reclined position and looked over at Graeme, who glanced at me first, then at Avery, before returning his attention to his butler.

“Please have him seated in the library. I will be there presently.”

“Graeme, c’mon, have him come in here,” Avery suggested. “I’m sure Gigi would love to see him.”

“Meaning what, that I don’t want to see him?” I tried not to sound annoyed.

“I don’t know,” Graeme said curtly. “It’s not as though you’ve gone to see him since you were discharged.”

“I don’t know where he lives or works or⁠—”

“As if it would be hard for you, who’s made a habit of getting in the way of the FBI, to find out all manner of illicit information.”

“What’s the FBI?” Lauren asked.

Graeme indicated his niece with his open hand. “You see? This is what I’m talking about. I don’t want⁠—”

“Sir, what would you prefer I⁠—”

“I doubt that whatever it is he wants to discuss with Graeme concerns our children,” Gigi said pointedly, turning on Stone. “And now please explain to your child what the FBI is.”

Stone turned to Lauren, who was waiting.

“I want to know too,” Ellie chimed in.

“I’ll go with you,” I suggested. “I do need to thank him, after all.”

“Perhaps afterward, as I doubt he expects to see you.”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I want to talk to him too,” Gigi rushed out.