In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

care of the house, and everything in it."
    "That's correct. Mrs. Peabody," he said, nodding at Phoebe. Officer. Detective. Shall I take your things?"
    "No, thank you." Phoebe held on to the box she carried. "The front gardens and landscaping are beautiful. And so unexpected in the middle of such an urban world."
    "Yes, we're quite pleased with it."
    "Hello again." Phoebe smiled at Eve as Summerset shut the front door. "And Roarke. You were right, Delia, he is quite spectacular."
    "Mom." Peabody choked out the word as the flush flooded her face.
    "Thank you." Roarke took Phoebe's hand, lifted it to his lips. "That's a compliment I can return. It's wonderful to meet you, Phoebe. Sam." He shifted, shook Sam's offered hand. "You created a delightful and charming daughter."
    "We like her." Sam squeezed Peabody's shoulders.
    "So do we. Please, come in. Be comfortable."
    He's so good at it, Eve thought as Roarke settled everyone in the main parlor. Smooth as satin, polished as glass. Within moments, everyone had a drink in their hands and he was answering questions about various antiques and art pieces in the room.
    Since he was dealing with the Peabodys, Eve turned her attention to McNab. The EDD whiz was decked out in what Eve imagined he considered his more conservative attire. His periwinkle shirt was tucked into a pair of loose, silky trousers of the same tone. His ankle boots were also periwinkle. A half-dozen tiny gold hoops paraded up his left earlobe.
    He wore his long blond hair in a ponytail that was slicked back from his face. And his pretty face, Eve noted, was approximately the color of a boiled lobster.
    "You forget the sunblock, McNab?"
    "Just once." He rolled his green eyes. "You should see my ass."
    "No." She took a deep gulp of wine. "I shouldn't."
    "Just making conversation. I'm a little nervous. You know." He nodded toward Peabody's father. "It's really weird making small talk with him when we both know I'm the one banging his daughter. Plus, he's psychic, so I keep worrying if I think about banging her, he'll know I'm thinking about banging her. And that's way too weird."
    "Don't think about it."
    "Can't help it." McNab chuckled. "I'm a guy."
    She scanned his outfit. "That's the rumor anyway."
    "Excuse me." Phoebe touched Eve's arm. "Sam and I would like to give you and Roarke this gift." She offered Eve the box. "For your generosity and friendship to two of our children."
    "Thanks." Gifts always made her feel awkward. Even after more than a year with Roarke and his habit of giving, she never knew quite how to handle it.
    Perhaps it was because she'd gone most of her life without anyone caring enough to give.
    She set the box down, tugged on the simple twine bow. She opened the lid, pushed through the wrapping. Nestled inside were two slender candlesticks fashioned from glossy stone in greens and purples that melted together.
    "They're beautiful. Really."
    "The stone's fluorite," Sam told her. "For cleansing the aura, peacefulness of mind, clarity of thought. We thought, as you both have demanding and difficult occupations, this stone would be most beneficial."
    "They're lovely." Roarke lifted one. "Exquisite workmanship. Yours?"
    Phoebe sent him a brilliant smile. "We made them together."
    "Then they're doubly precious. Thank you. Do you sell your work?"
    "Now and again," Sam said. "We prefer making them for gifts."
    "I sell when selling's needed," Phoebe put in. "Sam's too soft-hearted. I'm more practical."
    "I beg your pardon." Once again, Summerset stood in the doorway. "Dinner is served."
    It was easier than Eve thought. They were nice people, interesting and entertaining. And their pride in Peabody was so obvious it was impossible not to warm up to them.
    "We worried, of course," Phoebe said as they began with lobster bisque, "when Dee told us what she wanted to do with her life, and where. A dangerous occupation in a dangerous city." She smiled across the table at her daughter. "But we understood that this was her calling, and trusted she would do good work."
    "She's a good cop," Eve said.
    "What's a good cop?" At Eve's frown, Phoebe gestured. "I mean, what would be your particular definition of a good cop?"
    "Someone who respects the badge and what it stands for, and doesn't stop until they make a difference."
    "Yes." Phoebe nodded in approval. Her eyes, dark and direct, stayed on Eve's.
    And as something in that quiet, knowing stare made Eve want to shift in her seat, she decided Phoebe would