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His cell phone rang, the sound startling in the profound silence. He glanced at the ID and sighed. Charlotte. Sister #1. The family diplomat. He clicked to answer.
“Hi, Charlie.”
“Where are you?”
“Working.”
“I didn’t ask what you’re doing. You’re always working. Where are you working?” At fifty-four, Charlotte was old enough to be his mother and had spent the last thirty-three years not letting him forget it for a moment. Granted, Sophie was old enough to be his mother too, but that technicality was not something she wanted to advertise.
“I’m in New York. As a matter of fact, I’m on Camden Island in Cape Vincent.”
“Cape Vincent? Isn’t that right across from Canada?”
He said patiently, “Was there something you needed?”
“I saw that photo of you in the Valley Voice. I hope to God you’re not still planning to take part in any undercover operations.”
“No plans at the moment.” Those swift approaching clouds were looking more and more like rain. He began to mentally calculate how long it would take to walk to the Hovey estate. According to Bram, the island was ninety percent woodland, but in addition to tons of smaller trails and shortcuts, a walking path surrounded the entire island.
“Did you tell Sophie it was okay for her to go ahead and organize a big party for your birthday next week?”
Jason’s attention abruptly refocused on Charlotte, the bearer of bad news. “No, I sure did not.”
“Well, she seems to think you gave her the go-ahead, and she’s putting together a dinner party at Capo Restaurant.”
This was another thing you never saw on TV or the movies. The FBI agent throwing a fit about his birthday party plans.
“I told her I did not want a big thing made of my birthday.”
“Well, I do kind of see her point. Mom and Dad aren’t getting any younger—”
“Would you two stop saying that?”
“—and, after all, you did nearly get yourself killed last year, so even though it’s an off number, maybe it’s all right to make a little bit of a fuss.”
“I don’t want a fuss.”
“I know. I’ll try to rein her in, but since there is going to be a small—very small, hopefully—party, there’s someone I’d really love you to meet. His name’s Alexander, and he teaches art at UCLA. He and his partner split up a year ago, and he’s just getting back into the dating game. I did the redesign on his dining room. He’s a lovely, lovely guy, and I really think you two would hit it off.”
Jason had been listening to this with mounting exasperation. “Charlie, I’m not interested in meeting anyone right now. I’m working. I’m in the middle of a case.”
“Well, you won’t be working next Thursday. It’s not a date. In fact, he can come as my date.”
“Come as your…”
“My date-friend. He’s definitely gay. There’s no pressure. I simply think you’d really hit it off. Wouldn’t you like to meet someone?”
He expelled a quick, exasperated laugh. “No.”
“Well, you should. All work and no play. Etcetera. Etcetera. Seriously, though. Life is too short.”
“Here it comes. And I’m not getting any younger either.”
Charlie laughed. “You? You’re still a baby. There’s no rush.”
“Well, there kind of is.” Jason staunchly ignored the “baby” comment. “I really am in the middle of something right now, so we’ll have to talk about it when I get back later in the week.”
“Later in the week when? Do you need me to go by your place and water the house plants?”
