Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Spencer
Whereas I’d thought Christmas would be a nice, quiet, private event with just Malik and myself, the reality turned out to be quite different.
Oh, we had a restful lie in—except that Moses got it into his head that he needed to be fed at six in the morning and decided kneading Malik’s hair with his claws was the way to get his needs met.
Malik, the old softie, rose and fed the damn cat. He also insisted—insisted—that Moses have free run of the entire house. Now, he’d at least removed all the valuable and breakable things to his parents’ room, and that space remained closed off.
Moses, never a fan of closed doors, would sit and yowl at it.
Seriously, my cat had a massive attitude problem.
Still, he’d already found a spot in Mrs. Forestal’s study where he could bathe in sunlight and lick his paws to his heart’s content.
I’d already taken the fur-remover thing to the area twice.
Having met the cleaner the day after the solstice, I apologized profusely and said I’d do my best to keep up with my cat.
The woman laughed, pointed out she didn’t have enough to fill her time anyway, and assured me she was happy to do a little extra.
At that moment, Moses leapt onto the kitchen table and head-butted the woman’s hand.
Turning on the charm. So like my finicky feline.
During our party on Christmas afternoon, however, he made himself scarce.
I would’ve too, if I’d known just how many people would be dropping in. Like, about half the symphony, all of Razor Made, a good portion of their families, and a few people from the neighborhood.
Malik contended he was alone in the world. A loner.
To the contrary, the dozens of people scattered about the house showed that to either be a lie or a fundamental misunderstanding on his part as to what alone meant. Because alone and lonely were two very different things.
Bonnie and Blossom also dropped in—along with several other of my coworkers who Malik had invited. He took seriously his role as my partner and always showed a keen interest in whatever I was working on.
As I shared an interest in his music. Pretty easy these days since he spent a lot of time in his studio. He was happiest, clearly, when I was close-at-hand. So, I’d take my laptop downstairs and work on the couch while he jammed with the band.
“You look happier than the first time we met.” Mama Murthi planted herself before me across the kitchen island. I was preparing yet another tray of pigs in a blanket and tzatziki crusty thingies. Hell, I didn’t even know their name.
“I try.” Before I could escape to start passing them around, Pauletta breezed into the kitchen.
“Oh, perfect.” She snagged the tray and headed right back out.
I met Mama’s gaze.
She grinned. “I like that girl.”
“I think she’d take issue with you referring to her as a girl.”
Mama shrugged. “I’ve figured out that she’s with a nonbinary partner. At my age, I can get away with a lot.”
I arched an eyebrow as I checked the stove. “Who knew pigs in a blanket would be so popular?”
“I think Creed’s eating all of them. I don’t serve them in my house.” Before I could ask, she said, “Unhealthy.”
Knowing that pointing out all the other junk food she served would be tactless, I simply smiled. “Well, he’s getting his fill today.” I pulled a tray from the fridge.
The thing was covered in little piles of Ritz crackers with a cube of ham and a bit of cheese attached with a toothpick. Again, I would’ve expected…something more upscale? Fancier?
Malik had contemplated hiring a caterer.
I’d said I could manage. Of course, I’d thought we were talking about a dozen people at the most. Now I almost wish we had splurged for help.
Not that I minded hanging out in the kitchen.
Most of the guests had visited at some point or other to chat with me.
I hadn’t seen much of Malik, but I wasn’t someone who was needy and required constant contact.
As a lawyer, I met strangers all the time.
Unless they were an adversary—and sometimes even then—I needed to make people at ease.
Now, however, I was alone with Mama.
So maybe not so much at ease.
Freddie appeared, eyed the tray of hors d’oeuvres, and his grin widened.
I held it out. “To share.”
He eyed Mama Murthi. “Of course.” He contemplated the tray and almost held it out.
She waved him off.
He scurried away.
I opened the fridge and pulled out a tray of vegetables. “Straight from Mexico.” Cherry tomatoes, baby carrots, as well as slices of cauliflower and broccoli. This tray I’d bought from the store. I removed the plastic seal from the lid, then pushed the entire tray toward her.
“Do you have a fancier plate?”
“What, the plastic container isn’t upscale enough?” I disappeared into the dining room and returned with a china plate with a pink rose pattern with gold trim. At least I knew this didn’t go in the dishwasher.
Mama smiled. “Yes, I can see Mrs. Forestal using that.”
I cocked my head. “You didn’t know her, did you?”
She shook her head. She washed her hands, then with a fork, moved the vegetables to the serving platter—ensuring none of the vegetables mingled. “I did not. But Malik has spoken of her. He probably doesn’t even realize how much he gives away.”
“You’re an easy person to talk to.”
She pointed the fork at me. “You’re a lawyer. You contemplate every word unless you’re extremely excited or agitated.”
I removed a tray of pre-cut fruit. “Be right back.”
“I have your number, Spencer.”
At her words, I smiled. Yes, she did. She really did. I never wanted to face her either at the boardroom table or in a courtroom. She’d likely wipe the floor with me.
I returned with another platter. This one had geometric patterns. I held it up.
“A gift from Reese after last year’s party.”
“Ah. So this truly is Malik’s. I wondered.”
“Smart woman. She spotted him with the floral and decided he needed something of his own.”
I swapped the vegetable platter for the fruit tray and the geometric serving thing. Not quite a tray. Not quite a bowl. Hell, I had less experience with fancy things than most people here. I hadn’t entertained much at my condo. And, of course, I hadn’t used any of this while I was growing up.
Mama washed the fork, then set to work moving the fruit to the platter thingy.
I was about to wander out with the veggie tray when Malik entered holding the empty plate that had held the pigs in a blanket.
“Creed?” Mama arched her eyebrows.
“Nope. I kept him occupied while Freddie passed these around. Creed only got the last one.”
I chuckled. “I bet he’s irritated.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Mama pushed the veggie tray. “Healthy.”
He grinned, pecked her on the cheek, grabbed the rose-patterned platter with the veggies, and headed out.
I put the precooked tray of apple crumble into the oven.
Mickey appeared. “Malik said you had a tray of fruit?” They were slightly hesitant.
Mama laughed. “Roped you in, did he?” She passed over the tray. “All ready to go. Spencer is working on the desserts.”
“Well, I can do that.” Mickey met my gaze. “You should be enjoying yourself.”
“I am, trust me.” I gestured to Mama. “Best company in the world.”
Mickey smiled. “Yes, I can see that.” They took the tray and headed back toward the guests.
“Nice person. Always quick with a smile.”
“They’re going to be filming a documentary.” I eyed Mama. “If any of the band members have skeletons in their closet, Mickey will ferret them out.”
Mama waved away my concern. “Nothing they can’t handle.”
I assumed when she said they that she meant the band members—including both her son and Malik. “I hope you’re right.”
I opened the fridge. “I got mini chocolate éclairs. I hope they didn’t get soggy when I defrosted them.”
“Well, I’ll just have to check for you.” Mama grinned wickedly.
“Of course.” I handed her the bucket, tongs, and a plain kitchen plate. This was chocolate—no one was going to care what the delights were served from. “I also have mini-Nanaimo bars.”
Mama licked her lips. “I’ll have to taste test them as well. Finally, I will tell you a secret.”
I stilled.
She waved me off. “Nothing like that. I spoke to Pauletta earlier—she’s friends with Hugo Threadgold.”
I cocked my head.
“He’s dating Axel Townsend. Well, they’re engaged.”
“The lead singer from Grindstone? I didn’t realize you have a connection to the band.”
“Passing acquaintance. Renee. She’s a teacher at a high-end private school. One of her kids was accused of a crime they didn’t commit. Renee was an alibi, so to speak. I worked with her to convince the authorities they had the wrong person in custody. We keep in touch.”
“That student was lucky they had not one but two people who cared.”
Again, Mama waved me off.
I did wonder why a student who attended a high-end private school required a legal aid lawyer. Perhaps a scholarship student? None of my business, of course, but I was curious. “So you know Renee.”
“Yes.” Mama pointed to the éclairs. “Perfect.” She sighed. “I almost wish they weren’t so I could eat them all myself.”
“I promise to always have some in the freezer for when you come to visit.”
“Lovely.” She finished arranging them on the plate. “I think I might distribute these myself. To keep Freddie from eating all of them at once.”
“You’re not worried about Creed or Malik?”
She snickered as she slid off the bar stool which had really been too high for her—but she’d managed. She always found a way to cope with everything life threw at her.
I admired her for that.
“Creed and Malike know better. Freddie will try.”
I plated the Nanaimo bar bite-sized chunks. “Better send someone in.”
“Done. Don’t tell the band about Grindstone.”
I frowned.
“Oh, Pauletta and Renee are organizing for them to meet with Razor Made before that crew heads to that private island.” She snagged the plate of éclairs. “I did my research on that guy.”
“Me too. Quirky.”
She snickered again. “You can say that again. All right, young man.” She held out the plate.
I snagged one, knowing full well there wouldn’t be any left by the time she returned. “Thank you.”
“No worries. I’ll send someone in to grab the next tray.”
I grabbed a bite-sized piece of Nanaimo bar and popped it into my mouth.
She winked, and then she was gone.
And just like that, I realized I felt a lot less lonely.
We’re lucky to have her in our lives.
Malik, most especially. Mama couldn’t make up for the loss of his parents—but she could be a calming influence on a man whose mind often raced. She could give him stability when he lacked grounding.
I hope I can be a good influence on him as well. That he’ll turn to me if he needs comfort and support.
On that note, I grabbed another bite.
Creed sailed into the kitchen.
I handed him the plate.
He shoved a piece into his mouth, saluted, and headed out.
I chuckled to myself and then checked on the apple crumble.
Yeah. We’re going to be okay.
I’d miss him like crazy. But we’d be okay.