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“Honey,” Wyn said urgently, and just as urgently making her way to him. “Let’s step outside.”
He glanced at his wife and said, “No.” Then he looked back to his mother.
“I will not have you talk to me this way in my own home,” Colette declared.
“It’s my home too, Mom, as well as Dad’s, and I won’t have you pulverizing his bones in it,” he shot back.
Colette stood, slowly, regally, and shook her head in a feminine way to get the hair away from her face before she stated, “I believe you need to call the airlines and see if you can be on an earlier flight.”
“I believe that’s not your call,” Remy retorted.
Colette looked to his father.
“Guillaume.”
It was a demand.
Handle this.
“Je vais bien,” Guillaume replied.
(I’m fine.)
She knew what those words meant, and she glared at her husband.
“Soit dit en passant,” Guillaume kept going.
(By the way.)
“And I have not seen my family for three years, my love, and we have only one day left with them. Therefore, I am not going to send them home now,” he continued. “So if you cannot be civil to Remy, perhaps Melly can bring you a tray in the mural room where you can eat.”
“Civil…to Remy?” she asked. “Your son just raised his voice to me.”
Guillaume didn’t reply.
Not verbally.
He moved to his chair, pulled it out, looking at Melly, and he said, “I’m sorry for the delay, ma chérie. But we’re ready for brunch now.”
Sabre reached out and righted the saltshaker.
Manon used her napkin to wipe up the butter.
Melly disappeared into the kitchen.
“Do you need more ice for your jaw, Pépé?” Yves asked.
“I’m fine, Yves, but thank you,” Guillaume answered, snapping his napkin in front of him and placing it on his lap.
Colette stood through all of this, glaring at her husband.
Wyn took Remy’s hand and led him to his place at the table, the only person in a middle seat. Yves and Sabre flanked Colette, Manon and Wyn flanked his father.
“Pour me a cup of coffee, will you, Sah?” Remy asked.
Sabre reached for the pot as Remy slid his cup and saucer toward his son.
“I cannot—” Colette began, cut herself off when Melly appeared, and then demanded, “I’ll have a tray in my bedroom, Melisande. At your earliest convenience.”
She then stormed out of the room.
Guillaume seemed tense and couldn’t hide his concern, but he didn’t watch her go.
“So, Pépé, the tailgate is out and probably the ghost tour too, so we decided we’re doing a Star Wars movie marathon, and you gotta tell us where we’re starting. Did you see the originals?” Sabre asked.
“No, Sabre, I—” Guillaume began.
Manon leaned into her grandfather, exclaiming, “That’s impossible, Pépé! You haven’t met Luke, Han, Leia and Chewie?” She then turned her attention to her brothers and declared, “Ohmigod, now we have, like twenty hours of movies to watch.”
“Maybe we should do some select Star Trek,” Yves suggested.
“Maybe we should just boil it down to Galaxy Quest and then get dudded up and go to one of Emeril’s restaurants for dinner,” Sabre suggested.
“I vote that one,” Wyn put in.
“Did you bring another dudded-up outfit to wear?” Yves asked his brother.
“Am I my mother’s son?” Sabre asked in return.
“You are but that doesn’t mean you listen to me,” Wyn stated.
“I do when you talk about looking hot,” Sabre shot back.
Wyn laughed.
So did Manon.
Yves grinned broadly.
But Remy looked to his father.
He was smiling at Sabre, his face maybe not relaxed but the humor was genuine.
He also felt his son’s eyes, so his focus shifted to Remy.
“What do you say, Dad? A sci-fi spoof and see if we can get in at the Delmonico?” Remy asked.
“The Delmonico, Remy? There’s no way we can get a reservation at this late date,” Wyn said.
“Ne t’en fais pas, I will find us a booking somewhere we will all enjoy,” Guillaume assured as Melly returned, arms laden with food.
“Damn, Melly, why didn’t you say you were bringing in a trough?” Sabre clipped, jumping from his chair and moving to help her.
“It is my job, Sah,” she replied as he took the massive bowl of sausage gravy from her.
“This weighs a ton and I’m about to shove my whole face in it,” Sabre said, staring down at the bowl.
“If you do that, Sabre Gastineau, I’m never cooking for you again,” Melly warned.
Sah jolted, muttering, “Right,” and he put the bowl on the table.
That was when Remy heard a chuckle from his dad.
He again looked that way.
And again, saw his father’s face not exactly relaxed.
But the humor was absolutely genuine.
Remy would take it for now.
Because it was good.
And because he had no choice.
CHAPTER 27
Not Going Anywhere
Remy
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Wyn murmured, staring at the doorway leading to the hall that led to the stairs, which Remy would be climbing in a few minutes in order to have a conversation with his mother.
