Page 79 of The Satyr's Guilt
Recovering with a smile, he pivoted back tothe grill.
“Yes,” said Jonquil. “Daddy says any otherway makes the meat tough.”
“The corn’s ready.” He plopped the cobs ontoa platter, handing it off to his daughter. “Set this on the table.I’ll have the steaks in a bit. We have to wait for the overcookedone. Seat our guest, pest.”
Jonquil struggled with the plate whileholding Denim’s hand and towing her into the dining room.
“Here. Let me get that.” Realizing thegirl’s dilemma, Denim took the corn from her.
At the doorway, Denim paused. “This islovely.”
A white linen tablecloth with matchingnapkins adorned the table. Blue stoneware dishes, two pale bluewineglasses, candles, and a vase stuffed with sunny daffodilsfinished the picture. Handmade name cards showed where each wouldsit.
The girl glanced up, wide-eyed, grinning.“Thank you. I set the table and made the place cards.”
Denim fingered the one with her name on it.“You’ve drawn a beautiful flower.”
“I’m good with daffodils. I put Daddy hereat the head.”
“As is proper.”
Ram entered with a platter of steaks,forking them onto the plates. “I’ll be right back.” He raced forthe kitchen.
Returning, he clutched the open bottle ofwine in one hand and the cream soda in the other.
With a napkin over his arm, he leaned towardJonquil. “Mademoiselle?”
She lifted her glass while Ram poured. Hestrolled over to Denim. “Et vous, mademoiselle?”
“Oui, monsieur. I would love a little…vin.”
After Ram slid into his chair, she cut achunk of steak, popping it into her mouth. Her tastebuds danced ajig. “Wow! This is delicious.”
“It’s surprising what you can do with topchoice meat,” said Ram.
“Too modest. I think it’s the chef.”
Jonquil flipped her eyeballs from one adultto the other, her irises twinkling.
Denim sank her teeth into the corn. With thejuicy kernels dripping butter, a stream dribbled down her chin.
Ram pointed as Jonquil laughed.
“What? Oh. It’s delicious, but I’m a slob.”Denim wiped the mess away with her napkin. She watched father anddaughter. Their conversation was easy, sometimes silly. LikeMarta’s table, love ate here, a deep love. Family. Once again,Denim was only a guest, someone on the outside looking in. But sheshook off the momentary sadness, choosing the joy of themoment.
Between bites of meat, corn on the cob, andasparagus, she squeezed in a few questions. “Do you have family onScath?”
“My father is here in Wildwynd, but werarely see him. My mother also lives on the island at the Sanctuaryof the Maidens.”
“Are they mated?” Denim asked. “Is that thecorrect term?”
“Right term. Wrong pair. While satyrs andnymphs often join to produce offspring, they don’t always mate.They have other agendas. Ones which include fu … having as manypartners as possible.” He glanced at Jonquil.
“Daddy, I understand these things. I’m not achild. My grandparents have lovers. Lots of lovers.”
“What do you know about their lovers?” Ram’seyes were narrow slits as he stared at his daughter.
Jonquil looked at Denim, her glance sayinganother woman would understand. “He thinks I’m such a child.” Herlips formed a pout.
