Chapter 16

Richard

Despite everything, everything that’s happened, everything that might happen…

… Despite the feeling of waiting…

…. What’s Klempner doing?

?

Who knows?

Hickman?

I suppose he’d tell us if he thought there was a problem…

… life feels almost normal. I could work at the office, but with Elizabeth due any time now, I prefer to
work here.

“Ross, could you deliver these back to Francis, please. I’ve emailed the scanned documents, but she
needs my original signatures on some of them.”

“Yes, sir.” He takes the files. “Is there anything for Mr Alexanders?”

“James? I’m not sure. Let’s go ask him.”

“I think you’ll find him in the kitchen, sir.” Ross shifts from one foot to the other. “I didn’t like to disturb
him.”

Really?



James is indeed in the kitchen. There’s not too much doubt of it. A trail of banging and cuss-words
leads us right to him. And as Ross and I come down the hall from one direction, Michael is approaching
from the other. He jerks his head at the kitchen door. “What’s going on?”

“No idea.”

Inside, James’ back is turned to us. Jacket hanging over the back of a chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, and
be-aproned, he slams down some doughy mass on the counter-top, sending a small cloud of flour
billowing. To one side, Scruffy sits, nose aimed upwards. To the other side: Bear, also sitting but at eye-
level with the work surface.

James spins the dough, turns it, presses in with the heel of both hands, then lifts and slaps it down
again with what looks to me like unnecessary violence.

Michael raises brows at me and I shrug.

Taking my life in my hands, “James, I was looking for you.”

“Yes?” He speaks through clenched teeth. “What can I do for you, Richard?”

“Ross here wants to know if there’s anything you need delivering to Francis?”

He pauses, stares into space… “No,” he says after a moment. “I’ve emailed everything that’s needed to
the parties concerned.” Lifting the dough once more, he spins it, slams it down, then leans in, kneading
hard with the heel of his hands.

Ross’ face is very straight. “That should make excellent bread, Mr Alexanders. Always a good choice
when you want to work off some… energy.”

James scowls at him, then cracks a smile. “You’re right. My apologies. Ross. I was sounding off my
temper.”



Ross flashes brows. “Better bread than pastry. Or people.” File in hand he turns for the door. “I’ll be off
then.”

“I’ll see you out.” Michael follows him, returning a minute later. “What’s griping you, James?”

Shaping the dough into a round, he raises eyes ceilingward. “Charlotte is.”

“Why? What’s she doing?”

“Bad-tempered. Snappy. Rude to me. Rude to her mother too, which is what really annoys me…”

“What triggered it?”

“Cara decided to do her Exorcist impression over her. Fountained about a gallon of her lunch back over
Charlotte’s brand-new outfit… It was unfortunate, but her reaction was off the scale. I’m not letting her
get away with it…”

Michael’s chin jerks up. “You’re going to punish her?”

“Oh, yes…” James lays the round of dough in a bowl, fishes a clean tea towel out from a drawer and
covers the bowl. “… Her behaviour was completely unacceptable.” His gaze travels beyond us. Michael
and I turn to follow it.

Charlotte stands in the doorway…

She must have heard him…

… Her head droops. Her shoulders are hunched.

Yup… that’s a guilty look…



James rinses floury hands under the tap. “Charlotte are you going to behave yourself? Did you plan to
stop with me and your mother? Or do you intend to be rude to everyone in the house before the day’s
out?”

She folds her arms into a tight knot. “Sorry, Master. You’re right. I’ll…” Her words trickle up and she
shuffles her feet.

Michael strides across, wraps his arms around her, rocking her. His blue eyes intense, he looks
between James and Charlotte. “I think it’s blindingly obvious what you need. Both of you.”

The pair exchange glances, then turn to him, brows furrowing

Michael’s eyes crease at the corners then roll to eye-point downward to the basement. “I thought so the
last time we made love. It was wonderful. It always is. But you two…” His forefinger waves between
them like a metronome… “… both need more than that.”

James lets out air then, face softening, cups Charlotte’s cheek. “Aaahhh… We can always rely on your
other husband to speak sense, can’t we.” She dimples.

His tone turns brisk. “Michael, why don’t you go put the heating on downstairs. Charlotte, I think we
should arrange a… date… for this evening.” He flashes brows at me. “Richard, I assume that you and
Beth would like to join us?”

*****


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