Monday, November 11, 2013

Death Becomes Him - 21



“Tell me about yourself. Rory says you manage a hotel?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s small, but growing. I like to think I had something to do with that.”

“For heaven’s sake call me Emily. Please.” She smiled wickedly. “I may be older than sin, which I think Rory’s probably told you, but I’m still as young at heart as I look on the outside.”

“Emily it is, then. Let’s see, what else would you like to know?” Trent found he was relaxing somewhat and hoped it wasn’t because she’d done something to him.

“Trent,” Emily said sternly, “I would never try to control you unless it was an emergency. I find those of my kind who do that to be despicable.”

The tone of her voice said she meant it so Trent nodded. “I do have a request though, if you don’t mind. Please stay out of my head. It’s more than a bit disconcerting, having you read my every thought.”

“Done,” she replied with a smile. “Again, unless it’s an emergency, I’ll leave your thoughts to you alone. Now, let’s see”—she tapped a finger to her lips—“what do you do for entertainment?”

“Not much. Read, go to the occasional movie…”

“Hit up the clubs sometimes.” Rory broke in as he entered the room.

Trent drew in a big breath of relief, his heart beating faster. His quest hadn’t been in vain. Despite Emily’s telling his Rory was here, he hadn’t been quite certain he believed her until this second. He smiled, jumping to his feet to embrace Rory. For a brief moment Rory stiffened. Then he hugged Trent tightly before letting him go.

“I’ve missed you,” Trent said softly.

Rory quirked a bit of a grin. “Given that you fact you made the trip here on what I suspect was just a hunch and a hope, I think I believe you. I’ve missed you too. More than you know.”

“Then why…?” He refrained from completing his question, realizing Emily was still sitting there watching and listening. Instead he asked, “Are you going to join us?”

When Rory glanced at her as if asking for permission, Emily got up, moving to the other sofa so that Trent and Rory could sit together. Then she said, as if there had been no interruption of her conversation with Trent, “I’m afraid there are no clubs within a hundred miles of here. However I have a well-stocked library and, believe it or not, a small movie theater in the basement, next to the media room.”

Guess I was wrong about the dungeon.

Rory obviously picked up on Trent’s thought because he tossed his head back in laughter, his dark hair flaming out then settling back down on his shoulders when he straightened again. Immediately he said contritely, “Sorry, I know you don’t like me doing that.”

“You look good when you laugh,” Trent replied, intentionally misinterpreting his words. He smiled, touching Rory’s hand. “You were always so… so happy when we were together and it rubbed off on me.”

The young woman Trent thought was the maid appeared at that moment, carrying a tray which she set down on the coffee table. There was a plate with several kinds of cheese and crackers, Trent’s coffee with a sugar bowl and cream pitcher, and two glasses of wine. She handed one glass to Emily, while Rory took the other. Trent added some sugar to his coffee then picked up the cup.

Emily raised her glass, saying, “To our new friend.”

“Thank you,” Trent replied. He took a sip of coffee, pronouncing it some of the best he’d had, which was the truth.

They all drank in silence for a time, Trent alternating between that and eating. He kept glancing at Rory, and every time he did, Rory was looking back at him with a speculative expression. Trent found it unnerving but didn’t want to ask what it was about with Emily seated right across from them. As if sensing he wanted her to leave, Emily set her glass down, stood and told them she had some things to take care of. She paused by Rory long enough to kiss his cheek and tell him to behave and then swept out of the room.

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