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“We’ll do a refresh later.” Liz searches the room. Then she gives Frank a little wave. “A handsome gentleman has a glass of champagne waiting for me. See you at dinner.” She glides off in her ridiculously high heels. I can’t fathom how she keeps her balance. My arm resting on the small of Cress’ back, I can’t take my eyes off Liz until she reaches the safety of my brother’s side.
As he reaches out to hand her a glass, the startling sound of a trumpet voluntary pierces the air. Then the kilted trumpeter bellows, shaking all the glassware.
“Please welcome Wing Commander Brian Grant and his beautiful consort, Viktoria.”
Dad, dapper in his Grant kit with badges for the RAF displayed on the sash with Mum on his arm in a long silk dress with a Grant tartan sash, are the brightest stars in the firmament. They walk down the red carpet, then wait at the far end while a line stretches back to the doorway with guest eager to greet them.
When I move my arm to pull Cress into my side, she relaxes into my touch as I tell her in an undertone, “Dad’s cousins, Colin and Desmond Innes, are here I know you want to talk to them about their dad.”
Cress puts her hands over her mouth to muffle the soft squeal that comes out of her.
“Oh my God.” She sways slightly and I slip my arm around her waist, gazing into her worried eyes. “What if they don’t think this would be a good idea?”
“Why are you so concerned? The woman I know is confident about her work.”
“My characters are fictional, or dead.“
“Munro’s dead,” I point out.
“Well, his sons aren’t. And it’s your family,” she ripostes.
With a little pinch of her waist, I try to remind her not to overthink. “I’ll warn you that those two never agree on anything, but I’m guessing Colin will love it and Des won’t. Don’t let Des deter you.”
“Where are they?” She quivers with a mixture of excitement and anxiety as she tries to swivel. Caught against my side, she has no room to maneuver.
“Relax.” I release her and pick up a couple of champagne flutes. “They’re chatting with my aunt Grace. We’ll go through the receiving line and congratulate the parents, then find them.”
We push toward the bar, and I pick up two flutes, handing her one. “It’s pretty full, so take a couple of sips before we move on.” Cress is famous for her ability to spill liquids everywhere. She obediently sips from her glass, then I take it and carry the two glasses as we move toward the receiving line, where I neatly intercept Colin as he moves on from kissing Mum’s hand.
“Hello, Colin. It’s been such a long time.”
Colin holds out a hand, and we shake. “It has been a long time. Too long. Perhaps at my dad’s funeral?” His keen gaze sums up both Cress and me.
“May I have a word?” I ask.
He nods. “Me, or me and the grouchy bastard over there?” He inclines his head toward his twin, who is now shaking hands with Dad.
“Both of you,” I tell him. “Just give us a minute to greet the birthday boy.”
We join the end of the queue as Colin moves back and pulls at Des’ sleeve. A quick exchange takes place. Colin gestures in our direction, while Des replies with a frown and a shrug.
We finally reach my parents. Cress gets a big hug while Dad squeezes my shoulder. “Thanks for the books,” he says. “Can’t wait to get stuck in.”
Once through the line, we walk toward the space where the lobby meets the Churchill Bar and I check out my cousins, who have changed since I saw them last. Roughly my dad’s age, they have shrunk a bit, now a hair under six feet. Sandy hair has turned white and sparse. But both are lean as ever, verging on gaunt, noses sharper and cheekbones more prominent. The waxiness of Des’ skin hints at underlying ill health.
Resuming the conversation, I say, “Fifteen years. Far too long.” I hand Cress the glasses and turn to Des and hold out my hand. “Des. Glad you could come.“
He shakes my hand and looks me up and down. “The Grant tartan looks good on you. Obviously not the worse for wear after your adventures. That scrape in Istanbul.” He grimaces. “Something right out of Dad’s own boy tales.”
What a perfect opening. I gesture to Cress. “This is my, uh—”
Holding out her hand, Cress says, “Cress Taylor. Pleased to meet you, Drs. Innes.”
Colin isn’t drinking, so he takes her hand between both of his and holds it for a minute, staring like he wants to sketch her. “Nice to meet you too, Dr. Taylor.”
Des briefly touches her hand. “Hello,” His clipped tone is less than friendly.
Cress’ mouth drops open as Colin goes on. “Viktoria was telling me all about you, in enthusiastic detail.”
