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As he gathered their coats together over his arm, a much deeper voice called out. “Bastian? Do I hear Bastian?” Stuart Raymond came forward, hand extended. “Face to face, again.”
“Good to see you again, Stuart. How’s the translation going?”
Stuart clasped his daughter in a bear hug, then stood back to take close stock of her. “Still drinking your coffee and taking your Vitamin D,” he said, nodding approvingly. He turned back to Bastian. “I keep telling you, Toxiphilus doesn’t need a translation. It’s already in Modern English.”
“But it’s hard to understand,” said a slim man approaching behind him. He wore wire-framed glasses and a light blue sweater, and he bore a remarkable resemblance to Paula. Bastian surmised this was the brother he hadn’t yet met.
“You’re converting it to colloquial English so modern people can understand it. Therefore it’s a translation for all practical purposes.” He held out his hand to Bastian. “Hey, Daniel Owen Raymond, Owen to everyone who knows me. You must be Paula’s current interest.”
Current interest.Bastian didn’t miss the significance of Paula’s brother’s abrupt handshake either. He got the message loud and clear.You’re here on probation.
He said smoothly, “Bastian Spencer. Good to meet you, Owen. And you must be Timmie.”
The woman following behind Owen grinned at them and gave a wave. “Hiya, you two. We finally meet in person.”
She and Paula started chatting. Bastian was all set to ask Stuart another question when a door slammed across the room.
“Hey, Paula, hey, Paula’s man, I’m Cassie, the cousin with the kids, oh, you can put those coats in the closet there, show him, Paula,” babbled a frazzled-looking woman who’d burst out of a doorway and was heading straight up a wide wooden staircase. “Tamara!” she hollered, “I saidnow.”
Bastian blinked as she disappeared. That’s when he registered the vague, background voices of children in the upper story of the house.
“The closet’s over there,” Stuart pointed, nodding at the coats still draped over Bastian’s arm.
Bastian headed across the wide-planked floor, stopping when he noticed Lori Raymond was following him, limping slightly.
Paula's mother was an active, caring woman he could easily imagine as an obstetrics nurse. The fact that some asshole had left her disabled had originally disturbed him. But since meeting her last year and seeing how lovingly she fussed over her entire family, the thought of what had happened made him downright angry.
“Baby,” she said to him, “nothing has milk except for the pineapple cheesecake. Stay away! You need me to put it on a different table so nothing touches it?”
“No, it’s fine, Lori, and thanks, I appreciate it.”
He hung up the coats and then turned and followed a rare impulse. He gave her an awkward, one-armed hug. She instantly embraced him, pulling him close. It was a distinctly maternal gesture. He found the sensation strange but not unpleasant.
“It’s no problem,” Lori said. “Let me get you something to drink.”
“Lori, sit down, for the love of god,” Stuart said. “I’ll bring in drinks.”
Bastian made his way back to Paula’s side, offering his hand. Her fingers instantly wound through his. They exchanged glances, passing a silent message between themselves.
Now?
Paula gave a tiny nod and took a deep breath. “Everyone, hold on for a minute, let me have your attention. I have something I want to say.”
Her declaration achieved exactly nothing. “Baby, will you go find Calvin?” Lori said to her, tracking her husband into the kitchen. “He’s out back making noise with the car. I don’t think he heard you come in.”
“Sure, Mom. But please sit down.” To Bastian she whispered, “I need to get him. He should be here for this. You’ll be fine.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
“Go ahead. There’s no hurry.”
“Just remember, the garden’s through that door, but don’t say anything about the flower beds.”
“I know,” he murmured. As soon as she disappeared, he let his amusement out in a soft laugh. He met Owen’s eyes.
“So….” Timmie ventured awkwardly as the three of them stood there in the living room in heavy silence. It stretched on while he and Owen stared at each other in a silent standoff.
“Paula tells me you’re in the business school,” Owen said at last.
“And you’re at Emory. Is that where you….”
