Page 22 of Second Time Around
Kyra was adjusting her perspective on Will’s family dynamics. He’d talked about disappointing his father, but it seemed that his mother was the one who was most unhappy with Will’s choices. She certainly had reacted badly to Kyra’s presence.
They’d reached the buffet table. Will handed her one of the china plates—a creamy white with a blue pattern of stylized leaves and flowers around the edge, accented by a rim of gold. Her mother had collected fine china teacups, so Kyra recognized the pattern as Grenville by Royal Crown Derby. Just the stack of plates on the buffet table represented thousands of dollars.
As she served herself tea sandwiches decorated with real flowers, asparagus rolled in paper-thin bread, and sliced hard-boiled eggs topped with heaps of caviar, she noticed that all the tongs were sterling silver.
“Save room for the lobster table,” Will said, nodding toward another buffet spread.
“The lobster table?”
“Technically, it’s the seafood buffet, but most people load up on the lobster tails.”
“Even high-and-mighty Connecticut society loves free lobster,” Farr said as he piled three tenderloin crostini onto his plate.
“Are you from around here?” Kyra asked.
Farr shook his head. “Alabama born and bred. I went to boarding school with Will.”
“We got assigned as roommates our first year at Marston,” Will said. “Best thing that happened to me there.”
Farr feigned dramatic surprise. “I never knew you felt that way.”
“I’ve told you often enough,” Will said with a grin.
Kyra encouraged the banter between the men, grateful to Farr for easing the stiffness in Will’s shoulders.
As Will walked ahead in search of an empty table, Farr came up beside Kyra. “If I’m being a third wheel, just say so, and I’ll wander off unoffended.”
Kyra wished she could consider Farr a third wheel but she shook her head. “I’m just here as a friend like you.”
“This party has bad memories for him,” Farr said. “That’s why I always try to show up.”
“Petra?”
“And other familial disasters.”
“This way.” Will turned to indicate the chosen table. “What are you two colluding about?”
“Just wondering if you were going to tack or jibe,” Kyra said.
Will lifted his eyes to the sky, as though praying for divine intervention.
“Hoping I will be struck dumb?” she asked.
“On the contrary, you’ve been too quiet. Of course, it’s hard to get a word in edgewise when Farr’s around.” Kyra could see Will was trying to make light conversation, even as he periodically swept his gaze over the guests with a wary vigilance.
“Kyra’s tired of listening to all those Connecticut lockjawed accents. She needs a little southern honey in her ear,” Farr said, exaggerating his drawl.
They arrived at a table covered by a lavender tablecloth and adorned with an arrangement of lilacs and yellow daisies. Will put down his plate and held the gilded bamboo chair for Kyra. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had helped her with her chair.
She popped a tea sandwich into her mouth, closing her eyes to savor the bite of the watercress with the smoothness of the cream cheese and another flavor she couldn’t quite identify.
“Mum’s famous recipe for watercress sandwiches,” Will said. She opened her eyes to find him watching her with a slight smile playingaround his lips. “She won’t share the secret ingredient with me because she’s afraid I’ll put it on the menu at Ceres.”
“There is something else there,” Kyra said.
“I’m guessing it’s radish.”
“Could be,” Kyra allowed. “However, I was thinking mint.”
