“I’m sorry, Portia,” Gregor said. He shifted uncomfortably. “Vincent….”
“You’re worried about Quinn. I get it.” Mark approached him, leaned down, and whispered in his ear.
Gregor stared into his eyes for a long minute, and then nodded. He turned to Mother. “Would you like another glass of champagne, or a cup of coffee, Portia?”
“Champagne, please.”
“Well,” Jeff said as he picked up the bottle of Dom Perignon and poured a measure into the flute Gregor was holding. “If all the excitement is over for this New Year’s Eve, would anyone else care for a refill?”
* * * *
“Did you enjoy yourself, Mark?” We were in the bedroom that had been mine since my childhood. I stood in front of the mirror above the double dresser, tugging gently at my bow tie and watching his reflection.
“Yeah.”
“You
