Page 102 of Negotiating Tactics

“I told you to stop fussing over me, girl,” Aunt Clem said.

Birdie studied her, then smiled patiently. “Seems like you’re fine. I’ll let you toy with Noah here a little bit longer, and then we’ll get you home,” she said.

“Don’t interrupt my game again, Birdie,” Aunt Clem said, though I could see the softness in her expression.

“Take it easy on him, it,” Birdie said. Then she looked at me. “Good luck.”

Her laughter trailed behind her as she walked out of the room, and after a steadying breath, I gave the completely incomprehensible game my best shot.

“Not bad, greenhorn,” Aunt Clem said.

“Not bad?” I arched a brow. “I didn’t win a single point.”

She shrugged and then rolled her eyes. “Of course, you didn’t. But you stuck in there, and that’s good,” she said.

I got the sense she wasn’t talking about the game anymore and put my cards down.

She did the same, her eyes yellowed but still piercing, raking over me.

“So, as I understand, you’re Prescott’s outside child,” she said.

She stared at me, gauging my reaction, though there was no hint of anything in her voice. No judgment, no pity.

“Prescott’s bastard. Yes, that’s me,” I said.

On the surface, the words might seem harsh, but there was no heat behind them, and Aunt Clem gave no outward reaction to them.

“You don’t sound ashamed of that,” she said.

“Should I be?” I responded.

She laughed. “Not one bit. But some people carry the sins of their fathers, something I suspect you know better than most,” she said.

“Are we talking about me here, Aunt Clem? Or Alex?”

The old woman smiled. “See! I told you you’re smart,” she said.

I looked at her, trying to figure out what to do next.

What to say.

Then, after a moment, accepted that it didn’t matter.

Whatever conversation we were going to have, Aunt Clem was going to run it, so I figured it was best if I played along.

“So, I guess I should have something to say about you getting my girl in the family way,” she said.

“Alex is an adult,” I said, trying not to sound defensive.

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?” She didn’t pause long enough to let me answer. “What do you plan to do?” she asked.

“You’re asking some private questions, Aunt Clem,” I said.

“Who’s going stop me?”

I couldn’t help but smile, and she returned the expression.

“I guess I should apologize for saying that,” I said.

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