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“Ah, so you’re confident there’ll be another time.”
“Absolutely. I’ve got to come in to the gallery on Thursday to pick up Jess’s paintings, and the following Monday you’ve invited me to the opening of the unknown gentleman’s art collection. Or do we now know who he is?”
“No, only Mr. Agnew knows that. All I can tell you is that he’s not coming to the opening.”
“He clearly doesn’t want anyone to find out who he is.”
“Or where he is,” said Sam. “We can’t even contact him to let him know how the opening went, because he’ll be away for a few days, shooting in Scotland.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” said Sebastian, as their empty plates were whisked away.
“So what does your father do?”
“He’s a storyteller.”
“Aren’t most men?”
“Yes, but he gets paid for it.”
“Then he must be very successful.”
“Number one on the New York Times bestseller list,” said Sebastian proudly.
“Harry Clifton, of course!”
“You’ve read my father’s books?”
“No, I must confess I haven’t, but my mother devours them. In fact, I gave her William Warwick and the Double-edged Sword for Christmas,” she said as two steaks were placed in front of them. “Damn,” she added. “I forgot to order any wine.”
“Water is just fine,” said Sebastian.
Sam ignored him. “Half a bottle of Fleurie,” she said to the waiter.
“You’re so bossy.”
“Why is a woman always described as bossy, when if a man did the same thing he’d be thought of as decisive, commanding and displaying qualities of leadership?”
“You’re a feminist!”
“And why shouldn’t I be,” said Samantha, “after what you lot have been up to for the past thousand years?”
“Have you ever read The Taming of the Shrew?” asked Seb with a grin.
“Written by a man four hundred years ago, when a woman wasn’t even allowed to play the lead. And if Kate were alive today she’d probably be prime minister.”
Sebastian burst out laughing. “You should meet my mother, Samantha. She’s every bit as bossy, sorry, decisive, as you.”
“I told you, only my mother ever calls me Samantha, and my father when he’s cross with me.”
“I already like your mother.”
“And your mother?”
“I adore my mother.”
“No, silly, what does she do?”
