Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I’ll be right back,” Sam told me, getting up, putting his napkin on the chair, and then walking back over to the guy at the front.
It was fun to watch.
The young man tried to brush Sam off, but Sam snatched the tablet out of his hand, passed it to the other guy standing beside him, and walked the first guy a few feet away, spun him around, and did the thing where he crossed his arms and glared at you.
Poor guy twitched a bit and then bent his head, lifted his lapel, and spoke into it.
I gasped. I couldn’t help it. No, no, no. Whatever they were doing could not happen at this poor girl’s wedding.
“Hello.”
Turning, I saw the man and woman standing by the chairs to the left of me. Rising, I offered the man my hand because the woman seemed hesitant.
“Hi, I’m Jory Harcourt-Kage,” I said as he took my hand, smiling at me, his wife now clutching his arm. “My husband, Sam Kage, and I are filling in for Tom Kenwood and his wife.”
His wife leaned sideways. “I’m sorry, Tom and Doreen are not coming?”
“No, ma’am, I’m sorry, they––”
“Bindi Willis,” she announced, letting go of her husband and slipping around him. “And this is my husband, Drew.”
“Drew,” I said, still with my hand in his. “It’s a pleasure.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” he assured me, letting me go so his wife, with the bright smile and big blue eyes, could take my hand. “Really.”
Okay. So apparently, Tom Kenwood and his wife were not people that Bindi and Drew were crazy about. Drew was the special agent in charge of the Northern Illinois Field Office of the FBI, and he and his wife had moved from Buffalo, New York, only four months ago.
“Our kids are about ready to start school, but you can do all the research in the world but not know where is best,” Bindi informed me.
“That’s true,” I agreed. “And while there are many excellent public schools, my husband and I decided on a private school for ours.”
“Oh? How many kids do you have?”
“Two, one of each, both in college now. My girl is at the University of Chicago, and my boy is going to Stanford, but he’s transferring back here, so he’ll be going there as well.”
“I can’t imagine either of our boys will move out of state,” she told me. “And I think it’s great for a lot of kids. I did it, so did my husband, but I don’t know if it was the pandemic or what, but I think for many, they just don’t want to be that far from their home base.”
“Or their supply lines,” Drew teased.
I smiled at him. “There is that, but I agree about the differences. I think kids should fly and see what works for them. My son tried, but he’s not ready to be on the other side of the country from me and his dad.”
“But he’s not moving back in with you, is he?” Bindi asked, grinning at me. “Because I’m betting that he’s not ready to do that.”
“You would be correct,” I said, chuckling.
“Yep. Once you’re out, with the freedom, it’s so hard to come back and be told to clean your room again.”
I didn’t explain that my son had never been asked to clean his room in his life. “He wants to see us and be able to come and go as he wants. And I get that. I’m just happy he’ll be in the same city again. He broke his wrist a few months back, and not being able to see him—that nearly killed me.”
Bindi took hold of my hand. “I would be dead.”
I put my hand over hers, and we had that parent moment where we were in complete sync with one another.
Another couple approached the table, almost grimacing.
“Anika, Mark,” Drew greeted them, standing up and presenting me. “This is Jory Harcourt-Kage, Sam Kage’s husband. Tom and Doreen couldn’t make it, so they’re filling in.”
Anika’s face lit up, and she rushed forward to offer me her hand. “I’m Anika Pascal, director of the Department of Public Safety, and this is my husband, Mark.”
I stood up and shook hands with both.
“You know, Jory, your husband and I—oh, here he is.”
Sam reached the table then, saw Anika, and slipped around to give her a hug and then meet her husband, who was a landscape architect.
“Do you know Jory’s brother, Dane?”
Mark’s face lit up. “I was going to ask. You don’t meet a lot of Harcourts, but then I was worried about what I would say.”
“Because your mother taught you the whole ‘if you can’t say anything nice’ thing?”
“That's correct."
“Hit me, it’s okay,” I assured him.
He took a breath. “Your brother is a ball breaker, sir. I’ve never worked with anyone so detail oriented in my life.”