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Mr. Drake pursed his lips, thinking, then said, “Jefferson, whatever happened to your friend Reginald? He was a good man. How come we haven’t seen much of him lately?”
Jefferson answered as if the abrupt conversation shift was perfectly natural. Which of course, in the Drake household, it was; if the Lord and Master didn’t like a subject, he simply changed it.
I went over to the liquor cabinet and cracked a craft beer from the mini fridge. Autumn slipped away from the group to join me.
“Had a nice chat, did you?” I asked.
“Who doesn’t enjoy a good dose of condescension?” She nodded her head at the brandy. “Pour me one of those, will you?”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “Two pear ciders seem to be your limit.”
“I need alcohol or I’ll never make it through the night.”
I popped a craft bottle for her and we clinked glasses.
“I like Mrs. Drake,” she said. “Can’t get a read on Mr. Drake yet.”
I nodded at Jefferson and Cassandra sitting primly at Mr. Drake’s feet. “What do you think of the Commander and Serena Joy?”
Autumn sputtered over the rim of her bottle as she was taking a sip. “Oh my God, Weston. You’re terrible.” After a moment, she leaned into me to whisper, “Their Handmaid must be waiting in the car.”
I grinned behind my beer. “Poor Ofjefferson. I hope they cracked a window.”
She let out a loud laugh, then pressed her lips together. “We’re going to hell.”
“I know,” I said. “But they’re so creepily perfect for each other. I wonder if they met on Tinder? ‘Hi, I’m Cassandra, and my hobbies include sitting on the porch at sunset with a glass of Chablis and making jewelry from the bones of small animals.’”
Autumn nudged my arm, her face straining to hold back her laughter. “Weston, shh.”
“He enjoys fishing, boating, and keeping a journal of the size and frequency of his dumps.”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“Just think of the beautiful children their nanny is going to raise.”
Autumn buried her forehead against my shoulder, her shoulders shaking. I fought the impulse to put my arm around her.
“Time out,” she said when she caught her breath. She handed me her beer bottle and wiped her eyes on a cocktail napkin. “Thank you, I needed that.”
“Any time.”
Autumn’s hazel eyes were still shining and liquid from laugh-crying when Connor extricated himself from his family and joined us. Autumn slipped her arms around his waist.
“How are you holding up?” she asked softly. “You look tired.”
“I’m great,” Connor said, holding her close. “You were great. Wasn’t she great? I love how you stood up for yourself like that. I think my dad was impressed. Jefferson and Cassandra can be a little stiff.”
“A little,” I muttered.
“Your dad didn’t seem impressed,” Autumn said, her voice low. “He hardly looked my way.”
“How can they not love you?” Connor said, the volume rising in his voice. The scotch had loosened him up.
Victoria Drake joined us. “I’ve had Autumn’s things taken up to your room, Connor. Wes, the guestroom is made up for you.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Drake.”
She frowned at me. “You were more than welcome to bring a guest, Wes. I didn’t even think to ask if you were seeing someone…?”
