Page 36 of Code Name: Michelangelo

“Can I get you a glass of wine?” she asked.

“That would be lovely. I can get it, though.”

“Let me. You’re the birthday boy. And you’re crossing a milestone.”

She was right. I’d turned thirty yesterday. On one hand, I fretted about the lack of things I’d done with my life. On the other, I’d never been in a better place mentally or physically. I crossed the room to thank the man who’d played a big part in me turning my life around.

“I understand you arranged to get everyone here. Many thanks,” I said, shaking Kade’s hand since we’d embraced earlier.

“I wish we would’ve known it was your birthday when you were at the house,” said Merrigan. “We would’ve celebrated.”

“No offense meant, but I’m glad you didn’t. I loved seeing the tribe together, and that was for Pen. I wouldn’t have wanted to take anything away from the moment.”

I smiled at the woman walking toward me, carrying a glass of white wine. “Thank you, Butterfly.”

I turned back to Merrigan, who had an odd but not unpleasant look on her face. “They’re lovely together,” I overheard her say when Pen led me over to the island full of appetizers.

“I may have overdone it a bit,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I really wanted to make this special.”

Each plate had an identifier card. There were smoked-trout croquettes, goat-cheese-and-pistachio-stuffed dates, figs wrapped in pastry with goat cheese, brie-and-prosciutto shortbread, and a trio of shrimp—cocktail, pepper-marinated, and pickled.

“Wow! This all looks fabulous,” I exclaimed.

“Remember to save room for the main course and dessert.” She winked.

I felt a hand on my arm and turned to face my mother.

“I am so happy for you, my darling boy,” she said, leaning forward so we could cheek-kiss. “And so proud.”

I hadn’t given her many occasions in the last eight years to say those words. First, I’d rebelled against her and everything else in my life after learning Richard Emsworth, a man who’d been her boss for decades, was my father. Then, my arrest and subsequent incarceration.

“I hope I’m able to give you cause for it.”

“You will,” she said, patting my cheek.

I stiffened when Richard approached behind her and said, “I wasn’t aware you were working for Butler’s firm.”

“It’s a recent development.”

“But is it what you want to be doing? If he’s coerced you?—”

“Would you excuse me for a moment? My apologies, but Penelope is signaling for my help.” I looked over my shoulder to find her, then made a beeline in her direction. “What can I do to assist?”

She raised a brow but smiled. “Shall I assume you need a task to explain why you just rushed away from your mother and father?”

I leaned closer. “Please.”

“You can encourage everyone to eat. If they don’t, what you see before you will constitute every meal for the next couple of days.”

“Right. Good. And thanks.” I asked for everyone’s attention, repeated how much I appreciated their being here, and advised them to eat up before I consumed all the delectable appetizers Penelope had prepared.

All the while, I did my level best to avoid making eye contact with Richard. At some point, if I could get her off on her own, I intended to have a chat with Tara about her suggesting Penelope invite him. Yes, things between us were more cordial than they had been, but it didn’t mean I believed we’d ever have a familial relationship. Not like the one I had with her.

As I filled my plate with hors d’oeuvres, I thought again about the wildly inappropriate assumptions I’d made about Pen’s actions. Perhaps it was time I faced my own insecurities rather than dwell on hers.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.” The woman who was always on my mind sidled up next to me and plucked a shrimp from my plate.

“I most certainly am. This is lovely. Truly.”

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