The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,95
think so.”
The man got out and secured the car’s little fabric cover with a couple of tugs and then a clip on each side of the windshield. Then he put the windows up and came around to her, dropping a kiss on her cheek.
“By the way,” he intoned, “you look very well, Madam President—or shall I say CEO. Congratulations on the promotion.”
“Thank you. I’m getting up to speed.” She linked her arm through his as he offered her his elbow. “And you? How’s business?”
“Thriving. There are always people getting into trouble in this town, which is the good news and the bad news.”
Approaching the mansion’s open door, she wondered if Edward would be inside. Surely he wouldn’t miss his own father’s visitation?
Not that she was here to see him.
“Reverend Nyce,” she said as she entered. “How are you—Max! Is that you?”
The two men were standing close together, and Max broke away from what seemed to be a tense conversation with obvious relief. “Sutton, it’s good to see you.”
Boy, had he changed. That beard was a thing. And were those tattoos showing underneath his battered jacket?
Then again, he’d always been the wild one.
Samuel T. stepped up and did his greeting, hands being shaken, pleasantries exchanged … and then the reverend looked back at Max.
“I think you and I are clear on this, aren’t we?” The Reverend Nyce paused for effect. And then he smiled at her. “And you and I have a meeting later next week.”
“That’s right. I’m looking forward to it.”
After the reverend took his leave, there was more conversation between her and Samuel T. and Maxwell—during which she tried not to be obvious as she searched the empty rooms. Where was everyone? The visitation ran until seven. The house should be filled to overflowing.
Looking around the archway into the parlor, she nearly gasped. “Is that Mrs. Bradford? Sitting by Lane?”
“Or what’s left of her,” Max said tightly.
Sutton excused herself and entered the beautifully appointed room—and as soon as Edward’s mother saw her, the woman smiled and reached out. “Sutton. Darling one.”
So frail, yet still so regal and elegant, Sutton thought as she bent down and kissed a powdered cheek.
“Come, sit and chat with me,” Edward’s mother insisted.
Sutton smiled at Lane as she lowered herself onto the silk cushions. “You’re looking well, Mrs. Bradford.”
“Thank you, darling. Tell me, are you married yet?”
From out of nowhere, a strange sort of heat went through her—and Sutton glanced across the way. Edward had come into the periphery of the parlor from the study, his eyes locking on her as he leaned against the doorway for support.
Sutton cleared her throat and tried to remember what she had been asked. “No, ma’am. I’m not married.”
“Oh, how can that be? A nice young lady such as yourself. You should be having children soon before it’s too late.”
Actually, I’m a little busy running a multi-billion-dollar corporation at the moment. But thank you kindly for the advice.
“And how are you, Mrs. Bradford?”
“Oh, I am very well, thank you. Edward is taking good care of me, aren’t you?”
As Mrs. Bradford indicated Lane with her heavily diamond’ed hand, the man nodded and smiled as if he had been going with the misnomer for a while. Covering her surprise, Sutton glanced across the room to that archway again.
The real Edward wasn’t looking very Edward at all, at least not by the standard that Mrs. Bradford clearly recalled of her oldest son.
For some reason, the discrepancy made Sutton tear up.
“I’m sure he’s doing a fine job of seeing to you,” she said hoarsely. “Edward always knows how to handle everything.”
Ladies were supposed to wear panty hose beneath their skirts.
As Gin sat on the edge of the pool in the back garden, she moved her bare feet in lazy circles through the warm water—and was glad she never wore hose. Or slips. Or gloves.
Although the latter two were passé now. Well, arguably the L’eggs stuff was, too, what with Spanx having come along—although women like her mother certainly wouldn’t ever go out without nylons.
She wasn’t her mother, however. Names notwithstanding.
And yes, it was hot here on the tiled edge, no wind reaching this part of the garden thanks to the high brick wall that encircled the geometric layout of flower beds and pathways. Birds chirped from the blooming fruit trees, and up above, on the currents of what appeared to be a gathering storm, a hawk sailed around, no doubt looking for a spot of dinner.