They rose and Ian offered Sara his arm. "Ian, you will sit next to me,"
Marie said with a smile as they walked toward the dining room. It was a
small room, cozy and almost completely taken up by the large rectangular
table. Ian looked at Sara desperately, wondering how to avoid the
questions that he knew would follow.
"I want to sit with Ian," Anna said as they started to settle in to their usual places. She had obviously taken to him, although Ian could not for the life of him understand why. He cautiously patted the little girl on the head, looking to Sara for help.
"I don't know," Robin began, not wanting her daughter to make a nuisance of herself to Sara's new friend. Sara wracked her brain for a solution, some way to protect him from Marie's good intentions. Anna was still begging her mother to let her sit with them, but Robin was not giving way.
"Robin," Sara said, giving Ian a "trust me" look. "Why don't we split the difference, let her sit between Marie and Ian? She won't be much trouble."
Ian looked at her, a feeling somewhere between curiosity and panic showing just barely on a face used to staying neutral. What ever she was up to, he had to trust that she would be able to handle it. "I have no objections, provided her parents have none," he said with a hint of a smile.
"Well, now that we have that settled," Joe said.
"Yes, everyone sit, sit," Marie said, waving them to chairs. "I will get the antipasto. Joe, open that wine." Once again she was in charge, tending the details of dinner as she encouraged them into their places, Sara and Robin flanking Joe, moving Anna's special little fork and cup over next to her grandmother.
Sara patted Ian's arm, gently as he held the chair for her. It would work out, she was sure. Anna could run interference and keep Marie from focusing too much on Ian. They sat and watched as Joe opened the wine Ian had brought. With their attention on Joe, Ian removed his gloves and slipped them into his pocket. He did not want his father's idiosyncrasies to reflect badly upon Sara, or himself. "Can I see that, Dad?" Joey asked, looking at the bottle with interest. Joe shrugged and handed it across the table. "This is really good stuff, pretty expensive too," he said curiously.
"Since when did you become a wine connoisseur?" Sara asked, trying to keep her tone light.
"Since never, but in Narcotics we occasionally see something other than the inside of crack houses and meth labs," he said, giving as good as he got. Sara and Joe looked at each other, wondering how to derail him.
"My father was fond of it, although I do not drink much myself," Ian said mildly.
"Trying to make a good impression on your Mother, you should understand that, Joey." Looking at Robin significantly, Joe smiled at his son.
"Yeah, the interrogation can be pretty intense, sorry Ian. I guess I'm coming across a little to older brother, huh?"
"It is understandable. Sara is important to you, I would expect nothing less."
"Yeah, I think I've been married so long I forgot," he said, looking at Robin with a bit of a grin. As if to break the tension, at that moment, Anna tugged on Ian's sweater a little. He looked down at her and gave her his full attention, trying desperately to remember what it was like to be that age.
"Ian, are you going to marry my aunt Sara?"
The room went completely silent, as everyone tried to think of what to say. Robin opened her mouth to chastise her daughter but it was hard not to laugh. Sara looked immediately at Ian worried about how he would take it. He had ducked his head a little and seemed to be almost blushing. She started to say something make a joke when she heard his quiet laughter. She started to ask but he just shook his head a little.
Ian was confused, started, shocked and elated. Was it such a short time ago that he considered Sara beyond his reach? Considered himself unworthy to even take her hands without his gloves? Now he was sitting beside her at a family dinner while her family questioned his intentions and this small child wanted to know if they were going to marry. What was it that allowed children to say exactly what they thought without offense? He tried to remember himself at that age, was he so curious? Certainly his father had encouraged him to ask about his lessons, but not personal questions. He met Sara's eyes, wishing he could explain his amusement, the changes in his life that were so overwhelming that all he could do was laugh with joy. He pulled himself together just as Robin began to find her voice. "Anna." she began but Ian held up a hand to stop her.
Ian leaned over to her, bending low to whisper in her ear. "Perhaps someday, my dear, but it is polite to wait until I have asked the lady herself. Will you keep my secret for me?" Anna looked at him with a wide eyed smile and nodded solemnly.
"What did you." Sara started to ask as Marie came through the door carrying the antipasto.
"Why is everyone so quiet?" she asked. "Joe, why is the wine still not poured? What have you all been doing?"
Dinner settled into a pattern. The swirl of activity, of commotion was a surprise to Ian. He sat back as Marie served out the antipasto, encouraging him to eat. "Manga, manga, there's plenty," she said, as she passed the plate to him for a second time. It took very little to convince him to eat. Next came the Manicotti, the crepes indicative of a true Italian household, and stories. Joey told him about the things that Sara had gotten into, the games they had played.
"She and Maria," he started, ready to begin another story of her misspent youth. Sara took it all cheerfully, correcting, arguing some of the finer points. It was amazing, here she was, a woman usually so sensitive about her reputation, so tough and distant in many ways, joking around about things that any where else she would be too embarrassed to mention. The talk swirled around willy-nilly, subjects changing and rearranging, Joey's latest case, a practical joke from Joe's academy days with James Pezzini, Robin's tales of elementary school mischief. For the most part Ian laughed or contributed only enough to be polite. The chaos was a little surprising for someone who only knew about formal dinner parties, or quiet dinners with his father, the two of them discussing a myriad of topics but nothing like this cacophony of sound, laughter and emotion. Emboldened and encouraged, Ian told a tale of his own, from his days in the military. The tale of Talon Green replacing the standard reveille with Carl Orff's Carmina Burana made the room ring with laughter. Ian smiled, pleased at the effect. He had never been one for storytelling, not really having been in a situation that required it.
"The worst of it," he continued. "As I was watching the rest of my unit trying to regain some semblance of discipline was the looks on their faces as some of them rose, they were not happy with me. McGill had completely forgotten that he occupied a top billet. He had a sudden encounter with the floor which left him in a less than pleasant frame of mind."
"Why would they blame you?" Sara asked as she tried to stifle the giggles that the picture of a hyper-trained military unit brought to its knees gave her.
"Simple, it was my tape." The statement coupled with the twinkle in his eye set off a fresh round of amusement around the table. "My father would send me classical music from home, a reminder of what I was missing, perhaps," he said as the memory brought others with it, memories that he did not want at such a festive occasion. Sara caught the change and gave his arm a little squeeze. "The only thing that saved me from their wrath was that no one could picture me pulling a practical joke, whereas Green was notorious for them."
As Joe carved the roasted lamb, Marie finally settled down long enough to begin the questions which were burning on the back of her tongue. He seemed to be relaxing well and his appetite was good, he ate as if he was expecting his next meal to be delayed. But now she wanted to find out something about him. All she knew at the moment was that he worked at Vorschlag, his father was recently deceased and he was completely and madly in love with Sara.
"So, Ian, tell us a little about yourself," she asked, trying to sound casual.
The questioning had begun. Ian tried to act casual. "There is very little to tell, I'm afraid," Ian said dismissively. "I was raised by my father, went to school, was in the military for a few years and then went to work for Vorschlag. I have been there ever since."
"Vorschlag? Irons' company?" Joey asked, suddenly interested.
"Yes," Ian confirmed quietly. He was waiting for the rest of it, for the whole thing to come out making him at once the outsider, viewed with suspicion by the rest of Sara's family. He tensed in preparation for the questions that would come, but he would not lie to them, or at least not any more than absolutely necessary.
"Isn't he." Robin began.
"Who wants some more lamb?" Joe interrupted, proceeding to fill the quiet with activity. It was a reminder to all that Ian was a guest and should be allowed a certain amount of peace, at least for the moment.
"It is all right Joe. I'm afraid that I cannot tell you anything at the moment. There are considerations.I am sure you understand." There were nods around the table and Sara sighed quietly, another obstacle safely navigated. Anyone would understand confidentiality; it was something that had to be respected in a house full of cops.
"Yes, I'm sorry," Joey said.
"It is not a problem. It's not been easy at the moment, with all the rumors," Ian told them, gaining sympathetic nods all around. Anna tugged on his sweater a little to gain his attention and he looked down at her.
"Yes, little one?" he asked, trying to be kind to the little girl.
"Maybe your daddy can help? My Daddy helps people, so do Grandpa and Aunt Sara," she said proudly. Ian smiled sadly at the little girl, fighting the sudden pain in his heart.
"My father is no longer alive, my dear," he said softly.
"I'm sorry," Anna said, giving him a sad look. Robin started to say something, but Ian already had it taken care of, reassuring the little girl. Somehow he seemed to have a natural way with her, without treating her like a baby.
"It's all right, you did not know."
"Yes," Marie said. "Was Mr. Nottingham an old man?" she asked carefully.
The response was sudden and surprising. Ian was trying to take a drink when her words hit him. The choking started immediately and Sara hid her reaction as she pounded him none too gently on the back, her mind racing for a way out of this. Joe's eyes got large and he immediately looked down at his plate. Joey and Robin looked at one another in confusion; it was an odd reaction to a simple question.
"It.I." Ian started, trying to cough and get his thoughts in order at the same time. Sara was trying to figure out a way to help him out but her mind was blank. He took her hand and squeezed it while he worked out his answer. There was nothing to do but get it over with. At some point he would have to tell them the truth, he just was not looking forward to it, afraid of how they would look at him, how they would treat him when they knew.
"Hey Marie, why don't we get the table cleared?" she asked, looking significantly toward the kitchen.
"All right," she said, confused. The two women started to clear the table with Robin's help while Sara gave Ian some time to formulate his answer. Joe looked at them both but he knew there was nothing that could be done. It had always been a forgone conclusion that Marie would want to know more, and there was no way to help him out of it.
They returned with fruit and cheese and small cups of Grappa all around. Joe distracted them for a few moments as he peeled the orange, shaping the peel into a pair of eyeglasses for Anna to play with. But even that was only delaying the inevitable. Ian took a deep breath and looked over at Marie. She was a nice woman, and only trying to do well by Sara.
"I am sorry about that, Marie; it was just a bit of a shock. My father was not Mr. Nottingham; I don't really know where the name came from." The table went silent as confusion descended. Ian was trying to find the right words, looking into his drink, at Sara, anywhere for inspiration.
"I'm sorry," Marie told him. "I didn't mean to step on a painful subject."
"No, it would have to be said sometime. I have not been accustomed in my life to talking about my family life at all. My father was a very cautious man, and a very wealthy one. Unfortunately it is about to become public knowledge and I am unused to handling such scrutiny. Sara was trying to protect me, I am afraid," he said with a shy smile at his love.
"Ian, you don't have to." Marie said, feeling sorry for him. It was a horrible thing to spend your life denying who you are. What kind of father would do that to his son?
"Ah, but I do. I would not want you to think ill of me when you see it in the news. When you asked me about my position, and I said I had been head of security until recently, that was nothing but the truth. When my father passed away, I became the owner of Vorschlag Industries. I am sure you can understand my caution."
The silence in the room was deafening as the assembled company began to put two and two together. Sara looked at Ian, holding his arm tightly and Joe paid studious attention to the biscotti he was dipping in his Grappa, as if it would give him some inspiration. He knew as soon as they had left, that Marie was going to have more than a few words to say to him.
"But that would make you." Marie started to say. The earlier conversation came back to all of them in a flash, realizing that he had told them something very important in that one instant.
"So Irons is dead," Joey said, a bit more bluntly than he intended in his shock. Ian nodded, his feeling of camaraderie with these people wiped away with that one statement and now he was once again the outcast, only Sara's comforting hand keeping him from excusing himself and leaving.
As he tensed beneath her grip, Sara's hold tightened, as if she were afraid he would run were she not restraining him. The warm flow of her feelings, her love was all the response he got, but it was all he needed.
"I am sorry about your Daddy," Anna said, trying to make her new friend feel better.
"Yes, Ian. I understand now," Marie told him kindly. "Here I am being an old busy body and you are in the middle of so much. Is everyone ready for desert?" Her tone, the fact that she appeared to harbor no animosity towards him was a shock to Ian. He smiled at the comment. In some ways she reminded him of Cook, anything could be handled by the appropriate application of food.
There was a universal nod around the table and Marie turned to her husband. "Joe, help me with this," she said, the command clear in her voice as she grabbed up the plates and disappeared into the kitchen with her husband behind her. Joe was walking slowly, the cautious step of the condemned man toward the gallows.
In the dining room, Joey and Sara smiled at one another and then at a very confused Ian. "Don't worry, he will be ok. Mama just does not like surprises," Joey told Ian, once again trying to include him in the circle around the table. A lot of things were now making sense and besides, the guy made Sara happy. That was enough to grant him a place at this table.
"Joseph Siri," Marie began the minute the kitchen door closed behind him. "How could you not tell me the truth? Let me stick my nose into that poor boy's business without a single clue as to what he was going through?"
"Marie, calm down, I only found out myself this morning and I really didn't have time to tell you. Besides, they are really trying to keep it quiet for a little while until the formal announcement."
"That is not the same thing at all. I should have known before I blundered in and upset him." She bustled around the kitchen as she talked, putting the tiramisu on plates and getting the coffee fixed.
"Marie, stop," Joe said firmly. "Ian has been through a whole lot. I don't know what his relationship with his father was, but I know that there have been a lot of problems getting this ironed out. He is trying to get ready to go public with this and the last thing he needs is to be fussed and flustered over. I figured a simple family dinner was just what he needed, not to be fussed over like we were having the bishop to dinner." Marie stared at him. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn't. She would have made a big deal of it, and that was not what he needed.
"All right, now get those plates. The children are going to think I am killing you in here if we are gone much longer," she said as she grabbed up the delicate demitasse cups that had been her grandmother's and put them on a tray to carry through.
"I want to sit with Ian," Anna said as they started to settle in to their usual places. She had obviously taken to him, although Ian could not for the life of him understand why. He cautiously patted the little girl on the head, looking to Sara for help.
"I don't know," Robin began, not wanting her daughter to make a nuisance of herself to Sara's new friend. Sara wracked her brain for a solution, some way to protect him from Marie's good intentions. Anna was still begging her mother to let her sit with them, but Robin was not giving way.
"Robin," Sara said, giving Ian a "trust me" look. "Why don't we split the difference, let her sit between Marie and Ian? She won't be much trouble."
Ian looked at her, a feeling somewhere between curiosity and panic showing just barely on a face used to staying neutral. What ever she was up to, he had to trust that she would be able to handle it. "I have no objections, provided her parents have none," he said with a hint of a smile.
"Well, now that we have that settled," Joe said.
"Yes, everyone sit, sit," Marie said, waving them to chairs. "I will get the antipasto. Joe, open that wine." Once again she was in charge, tending the details of dinner as she encouraged them into their places, Sara and Robin flanking Joe, moving Anna's special little fork and cup over next to her grandmother.
Sara patted Ian's arm, gently as he held the chair for her. It would work out, she was sure. Anna could run interference and keep Marie from focusing too much on Ian. They sat and watched as Joe opened the wine Ian had brought. With their attention on Joe, Ian removed his gloves and slipped them into his pocket. He did not want his father's idiosyncrasies to reflect badly upon Sara, or himself. "Can I see that, Dad?" Joey asked, looking at the bottle with interest. Joe shrugged and handed it across the table. "This is really good stuff, pretty expensive too," he said curiously.
"Since when did you become a wine connoisseur?" Sara asked, trying to keep her tone light.
"Since never, but in Narcotics we occasionally see something other than the inside of crack houses and meth labs," he said, giving as good as he got. Sara and Joe looked at each other, wondering how to derail him.
"My father was fond of it, although I do not drink much myself," Ian said mildly.
"Trying to make a good impression on your Mother, you should understand that, Joey." Looking at Robin significantly, Joe smiled at his son.
"Yeah, the interrogation can be pretty intense, sorry Ian. I guess I'm coming across a little to older brother, huh?"
"It is understandable. Sara is important to you, I would expect nothing less."
"Yeah, I think I've been married so long I forgot," he said, looking at Robin with a bit of a grin. As if to break the tension, at that moment, Anna tugged on Ian's sweater a little. He looked down at her and gave her his full attention, trying desperately to remember what it was like to be that age.
"Ian, are you going to marry my aunt Sara?"
The room went completely silent, as everyone tried to think of what to say. Robin opened her mouth to chastise her daughter but it was hard not to laugh. Sara looked immediately at Ian worried about how he would take it. He had ducked his head a little and seemed to be almost blushing. She started to say something make a joke when she heard his quiet laughter. She started to ask but he just shook his head a little.
Ian was confused, started, shocked and elated. Was it such a short time ago that he considered Sara beyond his reach? Considered himself unworthy to even take her hands without his gloves? Now he was sitting beside her at a family dinner while her family questioned his intentions and this small child wanted to know if they were going to marry. What was it that allowed children to say exactly what they thought without offense? He tried to remember himself at that age, was he so curious? Certainly his father had encouraged him to ask about his lessons, but not personal questions. He met Sara's eyes, wishing he could explain his amusement, the changes in his life that were so overwhelming that all he could do was laugh with joy. He pulled himself together just as Robin began to find her voice. "Anna." she began but Ian held up a hand to stop her.
Ian leaned over to her, bending low to whisper in her ear. "Perhaps someday, my dear, but it is polite to wait until I have asked the lady herself. Will you keep my secret for me?" Anna looked at him with a wide eyed smile and nodded solemnly.
"What did you." Sara started to ask as Marie came through the door carrying the antipasto.
"Why is everyone so quiet?" she asked. "Joe, why is the wine still not poured? What have you all been doing?"
Dinner settled into a pattern. The swirl of activity, of commotion was a surprise to Ian. He sat back as Marie served out the antipasto, encouraging him to eat. "Manga, manga, there's plenty," she said, as she passed the plate to him for a second time. It took very little to convince him to eat. Next came the Manicotti, the crepes indicative of a true Italian household, and stories. Joey told him about the things that Sara had gotten into, the games they had played.
"She and Maria," he started, ready to begin another story of her misspent youth. Sara took it all cheerfully, correcting, arguing some of the finer points. It was amazing, here she was, a woman usually so sensitive about her reputation, so tough and distant in many ways, joking around about things that any where else she would be too embarrassed to mention. The talk swirled around willy-nilly, subjects changing and rearranging, Joey's latest case, a practical joke from Joe's academy days with James Pezzini, Robin's tales of elementary school mischief. For the most part Ian laughed or contributed only enough to be polite. The chaos was a little surprising for someone who only knew about formal dinner parties, or quiet dinners with his father, the two of them discussing a myriad of topics but nothing like this cacophony of sound, laughter and emotion. Emboldened and encouraged, Ian told a tale of his own, from his days in the military. The tale of Talon Green replacing the standard reveille with Carl Orff's Carmina Burana made the room ring with laughter. Ian smiled, pleased at the effect. He had never been one for storytelling, not really having been in a situation that required it.
"The worst of it," he continued. "As I was watching the rest of my unit trying to regain some semblance of discipline was the looks on their faces as some of them rose, they were not happy with me. McGill had completely forgotten that he occupied a top billet. He had a sudden encounter with the floor which left him in a less than pleasant frame of mind."
"Why would they blame you?" Sara asked as she tried to stifle the giggles that the picture of a hyper-trained military unit brought to its knees gave her.
"Simple, it was my tape." The statement coupled with the twinkle in his eye set off a fresh round of amusement around the table. "My father would send me classical music from home, a reminder of what I was missing, perhaps," he said as the memory brought others with it, memories that he did not want at such a festive occasion. Sara caught the change and gave his arm a little squeeze. "The only thing that saved me from their wrath was that no one could picture me pulling a practical joke, whereas Green was notorious for them."
As Joe carved the roasted lamb, Marie finally settled down long enough to begin the questions which were burning on the back of her tongue. He seemed to be relaxing well and his appetite was good, he ate as if he was expecting his next meal to be delayed. But now she wanted to find out something about him. All she knew at the moment was that he worked at Vorschlag, his father was recently deceased and he was completely and madly in love with Sara.
"So, Ian, tell us a little about yourself," she asked, trying to sound casual.
The questioning had begun. Ian tried to act casual. "There is very little to tell, I'm afraid," Ian said dismissively. "I was raised by my father, went to school, was in the military for a few years and then went to work for Vorschlag. I have been there ever since."
"Vorschlag? Irons' company?" Joey asked, suddenly interested.
"Yes," Ian confirmed quietly. He was waiting for the rest of it, for the whole thing to come out making him at once the outsider, viewed with suspicion by the rest of Sara's family. He tensed in preparation for the questions that would come, but he would not lie to them, or at least not any more than absolutely necessary.
"Isn't he." Robin began.
"Who wants some more lamb?" Joe interrupted, proceeding to fill the quiet with activity. It was a reminder to all that Ian was a guest and should be allowed a certain amount of peace, at least for the moment.
"It is all right Joe. I'm afraid that I cannot tell you anything at the moment. There are considerations.I am sure you understand." There were nods around the table and Sara sighed quietly, another obstacle safely navigated. Anyone would understand confidentiality; it was something that had to be respected in a house full of cops.
"Yes, I'm sorry," Joey said.
"It is not a problem. It's not been easy at the moment, with all the rumors," Ian told them, gaining sympathetic nods all around. Anna tugged on his sweater a little to gain his attention and he looked down at her.
"Yes, little one?" he asked, trying to be kind to the little girl.
"Maybe your daddy can help? My Daddy helps people, so do Grandpa and Aunt Sara," she said proudly. Ian smiled sadly at the little girl, fighting the sudden pain in his heart.
"My father is no longer alive, my dear," he said softly.
"I'm sorry," Anna said, giving him a sad look. Robin started to say something, but Ian already had it taken care of, reassuring the little girl. Somehow he seemed to have a natural way with her, without treating her like a baby.
"It's all right, you did not know."
"Yes," Marie said. "Was Mr. Nottingham an old man?" she asked carefully.
The response was sudden and surprising. Ian was trying to take a drink when her words hit him. The choking started immediately and Sara hid her reaction as she pounded him none too gently on the back, her mind racing for a way out of this. Joe's eyes got large and he immediately looked down at his plate. Joey and Robin looked at one another in confusion; it was an odd reaction to a simple question.
"It.I." Ian started, trying to cough and get his thoughts in order at the same time. Sara was trying to figure out a way to help him out but her mind was blank. He took her hand and squeezed it while he worked out his answer. There was nothing to do but get it over with. At some point he would have to tell them the truth, he just was not looking forward to it, afraid of how they would look at him, how they would treat him when they knew.
"Hey Marie, why don't we get the table cleared?" she asked, looking significantly toward the kitchen.
"All right," she said, confused. The two women started to clear the table with Robin's help while Sara gave Ian some time to formulate his answer. Joe looked at them both but he knew there was nothing that could be done. It had always been a forgone conclusion that Marie would want to know more, and there was no way to help him out of it.
They returned with fruit and cheese and small cups of Grappa all around. Joe distracted them for a few moments as he peeled the orange, shaping the peel into a pair of eyeglasses for Anna to play with. But even that was only delaying the inevitable. Ian took a deep breath and looked over at Marie. She was a nice woman, and only trying to do well by Sara.
"I am sorry about that, Marie; it was just a bit of a shock. My father was not Mr. Nottingham; I don't really know where the name came from." The table went silent as confusion descended. Ian was trying to find the right words, looking into his drink, at Sara, anywhere for inspiration.
"I'm sorry," Marie told him. "I didn't mean to step on a painful subject."
"No, it would have to be said sometime. I have not been accustomed in my life to talking about my family life at all. My father was a very cautious man, and a very wealthy one. Unfortunately it is about to become public knowledge and I am unused to handling such scrutiny. Sara was trying to protect me, I am afraid," he said with a shy smile at his love.
"Ian, you don't have to." Marie said, feeling sorry for him. It was a horrible thing to spend your life denying who you are. What kind of father would do that to his son?
"Ah, but I do. I would not want you to think ill of me when you see it in the news. When you asked me about my position, and I said I had been head of security until recently, that was nothing but the truth. When my father passed away, I became the owner of Vorschlag Industries. I am sure you can understand my caution."
The silence in the room was deafening as the assembled company began to put two and two together. Sara looked at Ian, holding his arm tightly and Joe paid studious attention to the biscotti he was dipping in his Grappa, as if it would give him some inspiration. He knew as soon as they had left, that Marie was going to have more than a few words to say to him.
"But that would make you." Marie started to say. The earlier conversation came back to all of them in a flash, realizing that he had told them something very important in that one instant.
"So Irons is dead," Joey said, a bit more bluntly than he intended in his shock. Ian nodded, his feeling of camaraderie with these people wiped away with that one statement and now he was once again the outcast, only Sara's comforting hand keeping him from excusing himself and leaving.
As he tensed beneath her grip, Sara's hold tightened, as if she were afraid he would run were she not restraining him. The warm flow of her feelings, her love was all the response he got, but it was all he needed.
"I am sorry about your Daddy," Anna said, trying to make her new friend feel better.
"Yes, Ian. I understand now," Marie told him kindly. "Here I am being an old busy body and you are in the middle of so much. Is everyone ready for desert?" Her tone, the fact that she appeared to harbor no animosity towards him was a shock to Ian. He smiled at the comment. In some ways she reminded him of Cook, anything could be handled by the appropriate application of food.
There was a universal nod around the table and Marie turned to her husband. "Joe, help me with this," she said, the command clear in her voice as she grabbed up the plates and disappeared into the kitchen with her husband behind her. Joe was walking slowly, the cautious step of the condemned man toward the gallows.
In the dining room, Joey and Sara smiled at one another and then at a very confused Ian. "Don't worry, he will be ok. Mama just does not like surprises," Joey told Ian, once again trying to include him in the circle around the table. A lot of things were now making sense and besides, the guy made Sara happy. That was enough to grant him a place at this table.
"Joseph Siri," Marie began the minute the kitchen door closed behind him. "How could you not tell me the truth? Let me stick my nose into that poor boy's business without a single clue as to what he was going through?"
"Marie, calm down, I only found out myself this morning and I really didn't have time to tell you. Besides, they are really trying to keep it quiet for a little while until the formal announcement."
"That is not the same thing at all. I should have known before I blundered in and upset him." She bustled around the kitchen as she talked, putting the tiramisu on plates and getting the coffee fixed.
"Marie, stop," Joe said firmly. "Ian has been through a whole lot. I don't know what his relationship with his father was, but I know that there have been a lot of problems getting this ironed out. He is trying to get ready to go public with this and the last thing he needs is to be fussed and flustered over. I figured a simple family dinner was just what he needed, not to be fussed over like we were having the bishop to dinner." Marie stared at him. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn't. She would have made a big deal of it, and that was not what he needed.
"All right, now get those plates. The children are going to think I am killing you in here if we are gone much longer," she said as she grabbed up the delicate demitasse cups that had been her grandmother's and put them on a tray to carry through.