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“It’s far too early for this kind of conversation,” I muttered. “Did you really come here just to berate me for not introducing myself to someone I’m probably only going to see in passing?”
“Yes. She’s very cute, you know.”
“No. We are not havingthisconversation, either.”
“Max—”
“No.” I looked at her firmly. “You know my feelings on marriage and children, and you agreed that you’d drop the topic. I will introduce myself to the woman if that means you will leave it well alone.”
Grandma sighed, picking up her teacup. “Very well. You are correct; I am aware of your feelings on the matter and my previous agreement to drop the matter.”
“Thank you.” I peered down into my glass. “I know it’s difficult for you to accept my decision not to start a family, and I hope you know that I do understand how much you’d love for me to change my mind.” I reached over and touched her hand.
She looked up at me with a smile, although it was a little sadder than usual. “I know, Max. I will drop the discussion, but I’m still going to point out pretty girls. Just in case.”
“And I will sigh, make a noncommittal noise, and change the subject.” I patted the back of her hand and straightened up again.
“It’s nice to have some consistency,” Grandma replied. “And yes, you’re right about Ellie. She is here for a writing retreat. I suppose I should tell her that she doesn’t have to come to the book club after all.”
“Did she agree to go? And would you like some more tea?”
“I would love some, thank you.” She pushed her cup towards me. “She did, although I do recall not particularly giving her a choice.”
“Surely not. You are the most gracious person alive, Grandma. You’d never dream of strongarming someone into something you wanted them to do.”
She gave me a withering look. “Your sarcasm is exhausting me today, Max. Could we have a conversation without it?”
“Ah, but if I don’t get it in, you will.”
“That’s my prerogative as your elder.”
“All right, Grandma. You take the sarcasm reigns.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “Perhaps I should take Ellie some bread or a cake to apologise for being heavy-handed. She did look quite panicked when I suggested it. What do you think?”
I poured her tea and slid the cup back to her, then poured one for myself. “Maybe. I know nothing about the woman except that she writes books and apparently has quite an ornery cat who is fond of hunting birds, so I can’t really comment.”
She huffed, and I knew that wasn’t an acceptable answer.
“That said, I’m sure either baked good would be greatly appreciated by her, and a more formal invitation to the book club for acasualdiscussion about her books might be extended.”
Grandma paused for a second. “You’re right. I’ll bake her a nice chocolate cake and take it over there this afternoon. Do you think Samantha or Edward might do an invitation for me?”
“You don’t need a paper one. A verbal one would suffice.”
“Do you think Samantha or Edward might do an invitation for me?”
I dipped my chin, smiling. I was not giving her the answers she wanted today. “Samantha would probably be better to ask,” I replied, referring to the female half of the husband-and-wife team who lived on the estate and acted as our butler and general housekeeper. We kept a skeleton staff compared to most other aristocratic houses, but since Grandma chose to live in a cottage and I lived in a rather small wing of the main house, there was no need to keep a full-time household staff.
Samantha and Edward were more than enough for us, subsidised by a larger cleaning group who came in once a month to deep-clean.
“I shall finish my tea and go back to the cottage to bake.”
“You can do it here if you’d like,” I offered, finishing my juice. “I’m going for a run anyway.”
Grandma waved her hand dismissively. “No, don’t worry about it. I don’t like your oven. It’s a hinky bastard.”
How could an oven be a hinky bastard?
