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‘Because if you had a sibling you’d know that gloating is bad form—and the quickest way to escalate a fight.’
‘Then why do I get the feeling you’re a champion gloater?’ she shot back, and Peter laughed.
‘He doesn’t call it gloating. He calls it savouring victory.’
‘Traitor!’ said Ethan, with the twist of a smile, his eyes thoughtful as he looked from his uncle’s animated expression and lively colour to Emily’s spirited smile. ‘But, I’m right, aren’t I? You are an only child…’
Emily had to admire his dogged persistence. She shrugged. ‘Yes, and even if I didn’t know it beforehand I would have picked you as being a first-born.’
He threw up his hands. ‘I don’t think I’m going to ask.’
‘I am,’ said Peter.
‘More socially dominating,’ Emily plucked out of her memory, ‘less agreeable and less open to new ideas than later-born children…’
‘Ah, but you’re a first-born as well,’ Ethan said, finding the loophole in her theory.
‘And I find you wonderfully agreeable,’ Peter told her firmly, showing that he was well aware of his nephew’s misgivings, if not the full extent of his animosity.
It struck Emily as ironic that she and Ethan were behaving as co-conspirators to keep that knowledge from upsetting him. In his presence their relationship had become one of armed neutrality.
‘I’m sure you do,’ said Ethan pleasantly, which was subtly different from concurring with his opinion, ‘or you wouldn’t be giving her such a wonderful opportunity.’
She noticed he didn’t say opportunity to do what?
‘Emily tells me that she’s going to feel she’s living the life of a pampered princess in the Rose bedroom,’ he continued, to her sudden dismay, ‘even though she’ll no doubt be nose-to-the-grindstone in her brand new studio.’
Peter’s lined forehead began to furrow, and Emily’s fingers tightened on her water glass, the ice cubes tinkling as she hastily moistened her dry mouth, trying to think of a witty riposte that would obscure his meaning.
But it was too late.
‘Emily?’ Peter’s puzzled frown turned to dawning pleasure. ‘Does this mean what I think it does? That you’ve changed your mind?’
‘I—um—’ she hated the thought of having to back down in front of Ethan. She hadn’t been thinking straight when she had flung her reckless words at his head. It had been anger talking. Now if she didn’t carry out her threat she would be making herself out a liar, and he would take it as further proof of her untrustworthiness.
Trust him to put her in an embarrassing position!
‘She said she was moving in today,’ he was saying to Peter.
‘Did I get it mixed-up, then?’ Peter brushed his question aside to say happily. ‘I thought you were adamant that you were quite settled in with your friend Julie…’
‘Well, yes, I was—I am—that is, I mean—’ She floundered, acutely aware of Ethan’s nailing look as he realised he’d been had, and his ferocious enjoyment of her discomfort.
‘You’ve thought about it some more and come to the decision that I was right!’ Peter leapt in helpfully. ‘I knew you’d come around to seeing the practical advantages! No sense in making a struggle out of things when help is there for the asking—that’s what Ethan was talking about a few minutes ago, so I know he agrees with me.’
And with that whopper he reached across the table and patted her hand.
‘After all you’ve been through lately, you deserve some pampering, my dear, and it will be my privilege to see that you get it. I realise that as soon as that damned insurance company gets its act together you’ll be wanting to make other plans, but meantime feel free to treat this as your home.’
To Emily’s consternation there was more than a hint of dampness about his eyes. She turned her hand over and laced her fingers through his, giving them a gentle squeeze, her heart full. She knew he had been deeply disappointed by her earlier rejection but until now she hadn’t realised how much her acceptance of his generosity had meant to him. She had almost forgotten how it felt to be wanted, as opposed to merely needed. Conrad had needed her but only pretended to want her. She knew her grandfather had loved her and needed her, but his praise had been reserved for her work, and towards the end he had so not wanted to need her intimate caring that she sometimes wondered if he had willed himself into that last, fatal stroke.
‘I-I don’t know quite what to say—’ She heard a muffled snort, and it provided the final impetus. Her spine straightened and she allowed her natural, warm smile to glow. ‘Other than thank you, Peter. Yet again. I’m truly grateful—’
Peter’s crabbed hand tightened, his grip surprisingly powerful, his reddened eyes softening. ‘I’m the one who’s grateful. It’ll be nice to have a young woman about the place!’
‘Then you should spend some of your gratitude on Ethan, too—he was the one who persuaded me that I should take up the offer,’ she said truthfully.
Peter gave his stone-faced nephew a looked of startled pleasure. ‘Did he really? Well, well…I owe you one, my boy.’ He sat back and chuckled.
