“Brian, you are a true philosopher and clearly the man for this afternoon’s contest,” said Spencer with a wink.
By 12:30 the marquee was filled with people and the hubbub of conversation. A team of staff served game pie, beans, and mustard mash. The meal was washed down with pints of warm English bitter beer drawn from oak barrels labeled “Ye Olde Peculiar Skull Thumper.” Bottles of red and white wines were spread out on the tables for less thirsty diners. Shannon watched Spencer as he played host, shaking hands and smiling at a multitude of guests. How she would have loved to be at his side. Seemingly without invitation, Jasmine followed the same trail, shaking the same hands, her big-toothed fake smile fixed on her face.
A cold wave of jealous hatred chilled Shannon’s stomach.
“Hey, r
