In Death 22 - Memory in Death

enjoy his Irish coffee. “She’s smuggling in some last-minute gift.”
    “Ah. I’ll garage the vehicle she no doubt left out in this weather, in a moment.”
    “Of course. And as much as I believe the two of you enjoy your mutual sniping, we might try a moratorium on that until Boxing Day.”
    Summerset lifted a shoulder. “You look relaxed.”
    “And so I am.”
    “There was a time, not that long ago, when you’d have been out hounding some deal right up until the
    last moment. At which time, you’d have been off with the woman of the moment. Christmas in Saint Moritz or Fiji. Wherever your whim took you. But not here.”
    “No, not here.” Roarke picked up one of the little frosted cookies Summerset had arranged on a glossy red dish. “Because, I realize now, here would have made it impossible for me not to understand I was alone. Lonely. Despite all the women, the deals, the people, the parties, what have you. I was alone because there was no one who mattered enough to keep me here.”
    He sipped his coffee, watched the flames. “You gave me my life. You did,” he insisted when Summerset made a protesting sound. “And I workedin my fashionto build this place. I asked you to tend it
    for me. You’ve never let me down. But I needed her. The one thing, the only thing that could make
    this place home.”
    “She’s not what I’d have chosen for you.”
    “Oh.” With a half-laugh, Roarke bit into the cookie. “That I know.”
    “But she’s right for you. The one for you.” His smile was slow. “Despite, or maybe due to, her many flaws.”
    “I imagine she thinks somewhat the same about you.”
    When he heard her coming, Roarke glanced back. She’d taken off her weapon, changed her boots for skids. She took a package to the tree, placed it there with the others.
    He saw the expression on her face as she scanned the piles he’d stacked. Consternation, bafflement,
    and a kind of resignation that amused him.
    “Why do you do this?” She demanded with a wave at the gifts.
    “It’s a sickness.” I’ll say.
    “We’re having Irish in our coffee.”
    “If that means whiskey, I’ll pass. I don’t know why you want to muck up perfectly good coffee
    that way.”
    “Just another sickness. I’ll pour you some wine.”
    “I’ll get it myself. Peabody tagged me on the way home. She’s not only safe and sound in Scotland, she was half-piss-faced and insane with delight. She loves you, by the way, and me, and McNab’s bony assand even his cousin Sheila.” She gave Summerset a small smile. “She didn’t mention you, but I’m sure it was an oversight.”
    She sat down, stretched out her legs. “That’s one present that hit the mark, big time. You clear
    everything you needed to clear?”
    “I did,” Roarke told her. “You?”
    “No, but screw it. I tried to get the lab and got a recording of ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’ Why don’t songs like
    that ever die? Now it’s stuck in my head.”
    The cat deserted Summerset to jump into her lap, complain loudly, and knead his claws into her thighs.
    “He’s trying you.” Roarke gestured with his cup. “He wants the cookies, and got nowhere with me or Summerset in that area.”
    “Well, you can forget it, Fatso.” She lifted him, went nose-to-nose. “But I’ve got something for you.”
    She dumped him, then went to the tree, pawed around, and came up with a gift bag.
    She dug out a pair of feline-sized antlers, and a toy mouse.
    “He’s much too dignified to wear those, or bat about some ridiculous toy,” Summerset protested.
    Eve just snorted.
    “Catnip.” She held the mouse up by the tail in front of Galahad’s face. “Yeah, that’s right,” she said as Galahad reared up on his hind legs and grabbed the mouse with his front claws. “Zeus for cats.”
    “And you, a duly designated officer of the law,” Roarke said, “dealing.”
    “I’ve got my sources.” While the cat rolled deliriously with his new toy, Eve stuck the antlers in place. “Okay, you look really stupid, so this is only for tonight. We humans have to get our kicks somewhere.”
    “Is he trying to eat it,” Roarke wondered, “or make love to it?”
    “I don’t want to think that hard about it. But he’s not thinking about cookies anymore.”
    She sat again, propped her feet on Roarke’s lap. And when Roarke ran an absent hand up her calf, Summerset took it as his cue.
    “I’ve prepared something simple for dinner, assuming you’d enjoy having it