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Susan and Bob wanted to host a dinner party at their new home in Portola Valley, completely renovated for them by the Mavericks. “Now that you’re all in business with the boys—” The Mavericks would probably always be boys to Susan. Her boys. “—Let’s have a party. Though we met at Gideon’s New Year’s Eve gala, we should all get to know each other better.”
Dane had readily agreed, and here they were—Troy, Clay, and Ava chatting with the main group in the living room, while Gabby oversaw everything Fernsby did, much to the butler’s consternation. Susan joined them, though she’d ceded control of her kitchen to Fernsby for the night.
Swiping an appetizer off an almost empty tray Fernsby had just replaced out in the great room, Dane squatted by Rex’s bed to offer the dog a tasty bite.
“He’s adorable.” Susan leaned down to pet Rex’s head.
Dane stood again, taller than Susan, who was a tallish, kind-eyed woman with a cap of silver hair and a lovely smile. “Thank you for allowing us to bring him.”
“He’s so well trained.” She lowered her voice to add, “We have three new puppies in the family, all of them a year old. We’re still in training mode.”
Fernsby interrupted with a loud gasp rumbling up from his throat. “Sir,” he belted out, “the dog is getting fat. He waddles. No treats. How many times must I convey that fact to you?”
Dane looked at the outraged man and chuckled. “But you’re making roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. It’s driving Rex crazy.”
Fernsby eyed him balefully. “Lord Rexford,” he intoned, “was sleeping before you disturbed him. He wasn’t even aware there was roast beef nearby.”
Susan gave Dane a sympathetic smile.
Fernsby bent to open the oven door, the scent of Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes wafting into the air. “The Yorkshires are done,” he declared, taking them out and setting them on the stovetop. The roast beef rested on the counter under a foil tent. “They’re perfect.” Fernsby allowed himself a swift nod of congratulations. He’d made the Yorkshires in a muffin pan, turning them into popovers, with a hole in the center for his rich, homemade beef gravy.
Dane’s mouth was already watering.
“They look absolutely amazing.” Susan gave Fernsby the praise he required.
Then the man looked to Gabby, his mouth stretched into something resembling an evil grin. “I know you want a Yorkshire. With gravy. Lots of it. And butter on your roast potatoes.”
Gabby screwed up her face, lips pinched, eyes squinty. “That is just so gross.” She turned to Susan. “If you let him in your kitchen, he’ll add butter to everything, even if it doesn’t need it. He’s a butter fiend.”
Face devoid of any expression now, nose imperiously in the air, Fernsby said, “Butter and eggs are the staff of life.”
But Dane knew Fernsby had prepared a special meal for Gabby—vegan meatloaf, a baked potato, vegan sour cream to top. He just liked to rub Gabby the wrong way. The feeling was mutual.
Susan tied on her apron. “I’ll help serve.”
His tone immutable, Fernsby said, “Dear lady, you go be with your guests. Let me handle this. It’s what I do.” He put a hand to his chest. “I’m Fernsby!”
Then he handed her a glass of champagne and shooed her away like the Grinch patting Cindy-Lou Who on the head after she’d just walked in on him trying to stuff the Christmas tree up the chimney.
Susan Spencer hooked her arm through Dane’s and led him out to the living room, where all the Mavericks were gathered. She whispered, “He’s really amazing.”
“And he’s bossy.”
They shared a smile.
The dining table had been set with crystal, porcelain, and silver, two leaves added to accommodate them all. The massive great room held the seven Mavericks, their ladies, and all the family that went with them, including Charlie Ballard’s mother, Francine, and Evan’s birth mother, Theresa, who hadn’t made it to the soccer game. Tony Collins, Kelsey’s twin, had come tonight too.
They all rather overwhelmed the small group of Harringtons. Dane wished once again that Cammie could have been here for the celebration. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine her next to him, her sweet scent seeping into him, her warm hand on his arm as she pointed out this or that.
He had to shake himself back to reality.
Ava had cornered Will Franconi’s wife, Harper. He was glad his family was making the rounds. He hoped they felt the same emotional impact he did.
Dane had spoken with Harper earlier and learned she was a recruiter, handling placements for high-powered business executives. What intrigued him most was her love for her brother, Jeremy. The young man had been hit by a car when he was a child. Now, at the age of twenty, he still had the mind of the boy he’d been. And he was delightful. Harper had become his guardian when their parents were killed in a plane crash, and he admired how she’d taken responsibility. Much the same as Cammie took responsibility for Lochlan. He hadn’t missed that Harper had been just about his age when his parents died, and he’d taken on the role of head of the family.
