The Dinner; Part 6

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“Will it be ok?”  Maggie asked, more nervous than she wanted him to know, “Coming in through the back?  Shouldn’t we go around front?”  It was a little past six thirty and they were headed toward the back deck of the Delaney mansion, headed for the sliding glass door to the kitchen.

She shivered and pulled Grey’s suit jacket tighter around herself.  She’d insisted on leaving the guest house without a coat because they weren’t going far and she didn’t own a coat she though decent enough for the occasion.  About ten steps from the cottage he’d wrapped his sport coat around her shoulders, muttering something about how ridiculous women could be.  She’d started to refuse, but the residual warmth of his body heat on the fabric, and the scent of him embedded within it made it impossible for her to protest convincingly.

“That’s ridiculous.”  He said shortly.  “We’re coming from the back of the house, what sense does it make to go all the way around, especially in the middle of fucking winter?”

She winced.  When they’d dated he’d been very careful with what expletives he'd used around her.  Since that awful day that he’d thought he was taking her to a clinic and she’d believed they were headed to City Hall, since then, however, he had been decidedly un-guarded in what language he used around her.  And she wasn’t yet used to the liberal peppering of “fuck”s and “cunt”s that Grey was so clearly fond of using with abandon in his everyday speech.

And he took the Lord’s name in vain enough to earn him a thousand Hail Mary’s, but she reminded herself that he wasn’t Catholic and tried not to think about it too much.   

The motion sensor light blazed to life as they approached and her steps faltered for a fraction of a moment.  It was difficult to escape the feeling of having been caught whenever those kinds of lights slammed on.  She half expected a klaxon alarm and police with dogs to jump out of the bushes. 

Her conscience was needling her, making her jumpy.

“Careful—“  He said as they approached the icy deck stairs.  He grabbed her around the back of her waist and looked distinctly perturbed about it.

“Thank you.”  She said shakily when they’d reached the top of the steps.  She wished she didn’t always feel flush whenever he touched her. 

He merely grumbled in response and pulled on the handle of the slider.  It didn’t budge.  “Fuck.”  He said matter- of-factly.

Her lips curled at the corners.  Evidently she’d been right.  They hadn’t been expecting their guests of honor to be sneaking in through the back door.  The two of them stared into the brightly lit kitchen for a moment and Maggie was dumbfounded by the size of it.  And the luxury of it.  She’d been impressed by the state-of-the art kitchen in the cottage, but this was like a temple to the kitchen gods.  It was impeccable.  It was easily as large, if not larger, than the industrial kitchen at the restaurant, for goodness’ sake.  But it was so handsomely appointed, too.  With soaring high ceilings and granite and fine wood and of course every high-end Calder appliance they made, most likely, and a breakfast nook and two sinks and a butler’s pantry?  Maggie shook her head wonderingly.

“Should we knock?”  She asked after a particularly powerful shiver left her teeth chattering.

Again Grey grunted.  He made a peculiar hand movement and then looked at her.  “My phone’s in the coat.”  He said.

She blinked.  “Ok.”  She nodded her permission for him to put his hands on her.

Setting his lips in a tight line he slid both his hands down her sides until one hit upon the side pocket with the phone.  Looking relieved that he hadn’t put it in one of the inside breast pockets he tugged the phone free of the jacket and swiftly began a text message.

“Will you tell me one more time?”  She asked after a long moment of silence had passed with no signs of stirring within the brightly illuminated kitchen and no answering buzz on his phone.

“Avalon; She’s the only one with dark hair like my mom, and her fiancée is Ben.”  He began patiently, keeping his eyes on the kitchen.  “The twins are Geneva and Vienna, Genny almost always pulls her hair back from her face and if she’s wearing glasses they’ll be frameless.”  He clapped his hands together and rubbed vigorously.  “Vee will probably have her hair down and her glasses are probably geek chic, unless she’s picked some other trend to hop onto.”  He took a look at his cell, but found no reply waiting.  “They’re close to your age: seniors.”  He said.  “And Vi’s the youngest.”  He finished.  “She’s tiny, like you.”

Maggie thought about the dress she’d borrowed on their wedding day.  She needed to get that back to the girl.  “I’m tiny?”  She asked, not sure if it was a compliment or what.

“Short.”  He replied curtly.  And raised the soft part of his fist to bang on the thick glass of the sliding door.  “Fucking freezing.”

“And your mother and father, and that’s all?  That’s everyone?”  It didn’t seem possible that it could be that easy.  She knew when she took Grey to meet her family that he’d be easily overwhelmed by all the cousins and uncles and aunts and great aunts and second cousins and ay. 

“It’s cunting cold.”  He groused and she found herself amused with his degree of put-out.  “You’ll meet Nolan’s family sometime next week probably, and my Uncle Caleb, and my grandmother.”  He explained, a growing impatience in his voice, not with her but with the wait to get inside.  “My mother wanted to keep this immediate.  Didn’t want to ‘overwhelm’ you.” 

She was thoughtful for a moment as she studied his stern profile, tension drawing his features into something rather intimidating.

“Maybe you should tell her I kinda like being ‘overwhelmed’?” she sighed casually, and watched his reflection in the glass before them.

His jaw fell open and she blushed.  An incredulous sort of grin broke through the sour scowl he’d been sporting.  “Like you wouldn’t die of shame if I ever even hinted—“

A squeal of delight sounded from the kitchen, muffled behind the thick glass door, effectively putting an abrupt end to their brief moment of play.  He gave a little wave to his mother as she hurried to unlock the back slider and then looked Maggie up and down as if trying to puzzle her out.  She bit her lower lip and smiled. 

He shook his head, evidently coming to no clear decision on her, and then smiled winningly for his mother as the door slid open at last.

“Oh!”  Velvet exclaimed at the sight of them.

“We’re popsicles out here Mum.”  He said, when Velvet made no move to allow them into the warmth of the kitchen.  She’d just stood there, gazing mistily at them, her head tilted and her hands clasped over her heart.  Maggie noticed that he hadn’t said ‘fucking popsicles’ nor ‘cunting popsicles’ to his mother.

“Oh!”  She replied with a start and giggled as she moved and gestured them inside.  “Maggie, don’t you have a coat?”  She teased lightly, sliding the door closed behind them with a delicate little ‘brrr!’

Maggie’s skin prickled with embarrassment.  And she couldn’t answer with anything but a smile.

“We didn’t expect to have to wait out in the cold.”  Grey covered smoothly as he bent to kiss his mother’s cheek.

Velvet’s face formed an apology.  “I should have assumed you’d come through the back, it makes sense of course.”  The little glowing ball of energy accepted the kiss adoringly and then moved toward Maggie, wrapping her in a vigorous hug.  “You look like you’re glowing!”  She declared upon examination.

Maggie imagined that it was Velvet’s own glow reflected; the woman was radiant.  “Thank you.”  She said meekly.  “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done—“

Velvet waved her perfect hand dismissively.  “No, no, no.  We’re family!”  She cried.  “That’s what family does!”

Maggie breathed in and sighed.  “Well, I’m so very grateful.”

She felt the sport coat being lifted from her shoulders and she looked up at Grey.

“Yeah, we can’t thank you enough.”  He chimed in, rather absently.

“Oh you look lovely!”  Velvet gushed, able to take in Maggie’s dress now that the jacket had been removed.

Maggie felt bloated and shabby and uncomfortable, but she smiled with false confidence and once again thanked her hostess.

“Are you ready?”  Grey asked, interrupting some other stream of incessant compliments from Velvet about Maggie’s stunning hair or her lovely complexion or her exotic coloring or her darling figure or the captivating hue of her eyes or something or other.

Maggie turned a pair of very grateful eyes to Grey and nodded vigorously.  There were only so many ways to say ‘thank you’ to a person before it started to strain.  He seemed to take a moment to debate something internally and then held out his hand to her.  The gesture caught her off guard and she found herself immobilized and staring.

“Mrs. Delaney?”  He asked, a sly quirk on his lips and a steely glint in his pale green eyes.

She flushed from head to toe even as Velvet gushed and cooed and got quite emotional about how romantic it all was.

A fresh wave of guilt washed over her, cooling the blush and setting butterflies to flutter in her belly.  Feeling like a fraud and a criminal she crossed to him and placed her hand in his.  She hoped he could read in her eyes how sorry she was that they had to lie to his family.  Her free hand went absently to her belly for a moment, but his quizzical eyebrow and pointed stare quickly sent the hand flying off her abdomen and to the medallion at her throat. 

She hoped his mother hadn’t seen that tell-tale give-away. She closed her eyes, took a breath, said a silent Glory Be (for the sake of brevity), and then opened her eyes and nodded at Grey.

He nodded back and pushed the swinging door open to reveal the most glorious dining room Maggie had ever seen in real life, filled with a the beautiful members of the Delaney family. 

Ay cielos!