“So, you feel like that makes her important to you?” Jeremy's tone seemed far too neutral.
“Jeremy, what did you say to me the day you met Frankie?”
“I said that young lady is very good for you, have a care with how you treat her.”
I grinned. "Verbatim. Ms. Bradshaw is very good for you. I plan to have a care with how I treat her as well.”
“You don’t have to, Mr. Archie. I do enjoy Ms. Bradshaw’s—Ann’s company very much. We have lunch a couple of times a week, we go for walks as often as we are both free and I have, upon occasion, taken her out for dinner. But I won’t allow the relationship to interfere with my responsibilities here.” With that, he returned to the kitchen.
“Jeremy…” I followed him as he checked the oven warmer where I’d set the bread and then the pots where the linguine and the sauce were waiting.
“You did not cook this.”
At the short declaration, I laughed. “No, I promise, I didn’t even touch anything unless Frankie told me to. She fixed this before she left to take the train to Connecticut.”
“Oh.” Surprise flickered over Jeremy’s face.
“Hey, after the last stove—which was not my fault—I gave you my word, I wouldn’t do anything again without supervision, and I’ve behaved. All explosions are now purely limited to the shop in Brooklyn.”
At the tightening of his brows, I lifted my hands.
“I have not detonated anything in over a year…” Geez, blow up one stove. Okay, three. But who was counting? “The point is, I wanted—you know, we wanted to do a nice lunch. Frankie even went to the trouble of fixing it.”
Manipulative? Maybe a little.
“So you would feel safe in eating it, and probably to make sure I didn’t blow up the kitchen.”
Jeremy chuckled softly and shook his head. The amusement left me flat-footed. It was hardly the first time I’d earned a genuine laugh from him, but still… “My boy,” Jeremy said as he closed the distance between us. He gripped my arms firmly and then patted my shoulder. “This is more than enough. I appreciate the efforts. I do. If this is your way of telling me that I am free to leave you and pursue whatever it is that you believe I might want to pursue…”
What the fuck? No, I didn’t want him to go. I wanted to make sure she was good enough and get to know her so if she moved in—
It took me a minute to realize Jeremy had gone quiet, a faint but very real smirk on his lips.
“Jere, that’s really not nice,” I pointed out, then raked a hand through my hair.
“I will have you know, Mr. Archie, it is every bit as nice as you deciding to have a tête-á-tête with Ann without warning me ahead of time. If I’d understood your concerns, I would have absolutely made these arrangements.”
I sagged and leaned against the wall. “You’re not planning on leaving?”
“Unless you and Miss Frankie, along with Mr. Bubba, Mr. Coop, and Mr. Jake, have decided you no longer require or desire my services—”
“No, none of us want you to go. Even Frankie says you’re family.” Yes, please, pay attention to my use of Frankie and do not abandon us. “Jere, you’ve been the glue helping us get through the last four years. You look after us, the brownstone—you’ve been handling the coordination of the renovations for the house in Hamptons. You’re the man who has the trains running on time—I get if you want more of a life than this, and I respect that.” My gut sank. “But I truly did just want to get to know her cause, you know—she might be spending more time here, with us.”
“Entirely possible,” Jeremy told me. He checked his watch. “When is Ann arriving for this meeting?”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “We have thirty-five minutes. She’s pretty prompt.”
“Yes, she is.” Pride shining in his eyes. “Give me one moment.” He stepped back to the food and made some adjustments, and I just shut up. He obviously didn’t want the food to go bad, and I respected that.
A soft furred head butted against my hand, and I glanced down at Miss Abigail. She gave me a soulful look so I scratched her gently between the ears.
“Very good, thank you for waiting. Let us step over to my rooms and have a drink, shall we?”
His room.
To have a drink.
On automatic pilot, I followed him, with Miss Abigail keeping us company. He had a very nice set of rooms, a sitting room with a library and office off of it, a television with a pair of chairs and a sofa—that apparently now belonged to Miss Abigail because she hopped right up on it and curled up on a blanket that lay over it.
Jeremy went to the bar and poured out two glasses of scotch. It had been a while since I’d had the good stuff, and I gave Jeremy two bottles every Christmas. I had since the first year I found out he liked it—when I was seven.
His scandalized reaction had cemented my desire to always find a way to get it for him. Grandpa Ted had always come through for me. A pang hit at that memory; a pang and a smile. At least I could take care of it myself these days.
“Have a seat,” Jeremy said as he passed me a glass, and I perched on the edge of one of the armchairs. To be perfectly honest, this was weird. We should have rescheduled it to when Frankie could be here.
“This feels an awful lot like I’m in trouble,” I admitted. “Except I’m in my twenties, and this is alcohol.”
I glanced at him, and his dry look communicated more than most people’s three-minute oratories.
“Okay, fair point. Alcohol has never been on the banned list.”
“Largely because you were always a clever boy. If it was permitted, then I could monitor it and hopefully avoid anything catastrophic. You were also a very determined young man when you put your mind to it.”
“I hope I still am,” I admitted.
“Mr. Archie…” He paused, then took a sip of his drink before saying, “Archie, if you’re worried that I want to leave—I don’t. I actually rather enjoy looking after all of you. Did I expect that at some point you wouldn’t have any further need for me? Well—yes.”
When I would have opened my mouth to say something, he stopped me with just a look.
“For the moment, I am being informal because I believe your concerns are rooted in the abandonment you still associate with your parents. You and Mr. Edward have come a long way in the last few years. Your affection for Frankie has softened you and made you stronger, while he has begun to put himself back together after that horrid woman.”
My jaw didn’t drop, but I didn’t think I’d ever heard Jeremy refer to Maddy in those terms before.
“I always had an opinion,” he reminded me. “The point is, it is natural for a young man to grow up and to not need the adult figures in their life as much. You don’t. Whether you recognize it or not, you have grown up—remarkably well for someone so determined to destroy just about everything in the name of figuring out how it works.”
I laughed. “It’s just deconstruction.”
“Well, it does have its limits where charm is concerned. However, the point is, Miss Frankie is good for you. Those young men you bonded with as friends are good for you. I’ve watched all of you grow the last few years, remarkable, capable young people filled with compassion, more than your fair share of mischief, and the commitment to each other that is extraordinary. Personally, I think you could have proposed to that young woman sooner, but I also recognize that none of you needed it to know where you were going to be. You proposed when you were all ready to take that step.”