Joseph stood up. ‘We’re done for now, Thorne. Get some rest. You too, Gwyn.’
‘And . . . thanks,’ Hyatt added with a grimace, as if the word tasted bad.
Thorne waited until they were gone to laugh hollowly. ‘I thought he’d choke on the thanks.’
Jamie chuckled. ‘This is a big day, young grasshopper. You got an apology and a thank-you from BPD. We should celebrate.’
Thorne relaxed against the pillow, Gwyn on one side and Jamie on the other, memories of his father in the album on Gwyn’s lap. Phil was resting comfortably in the cardiac rehab wing. His family, his friends, all safe and accounted for, and that was what really mattered. ‘I am celebrating. Right here. Right now.’
Epilogue
Baltimore, Maryland,
Saturday 29 July, 2.30 P.M.
‘Everything is amazing, Thorne,’ Clay said. ‘Thank you.’
Thorne smiled at Clay and Stevie, who’d taken a few moments away from their guests to seek him out where he sat on a stool behind the bar at Sheidalin. Everyone was having a good time, dancing to the family-friend band and socializing, but he wanted everything to be perfect for the christening after-party, as it had been dubbed. ‘You’re welcome. But Gwyn did most of it.’
‘That’s what she said about you,’ Stevie said. Her eyes were equally watchful, because someone else was holding her baby.
‘Sally’s a nurse, Stevie,’ Clay said. ‘And I checked her out thoroughly before we even invited her.’
Gwyn joined Thorne behind the bar, sliding her arm around his waist. ‘Because Frederick really likes her. Say’s she’s his “companion”, because it’s silly for him to have a girlfriend at his age.’
‘They’ve been dating for almost six weeks,’ Thorne said. ‘He says his girls like her better than they like him.’
Clay winced. ‘Taylor and Julie are teasing when they say that. Daisy . . . I’m not so sure. She’s still really pissed off at Frederick.’
‘She should be.’ Gwyn frowned. ‘I love that man, but he truly messed up when he hired spies to follow her around Europe. She’s twenty-five, for God’s sake.’
‘His heart was in the right place,’ Clay said sadly. ‘But you’re right, Gwyn. I hope he and Daisy patch it up. Life’s too short for arguments like that.’
‘Definitely true,’ Stevie said. ‘Hopefully they’ll have time to hash things out. Daisy’s been talking like she misses California. She might be going back.’
Clay shrugged. ‘She knows she’ll always be welcome for visits. Oh, crap. I see Cordelia eating another cupcake. That’s her seventh. We’re going to be praying to the porcelain god tonight if she doesn’t slow down on the sugar.’
Stevie followed him back into the sea of people, leaving Thorne and Gwyn alone.
‘I admire Stevie,’ Gwyn murmured. ‘But I don’t think I’d want to do that. You know, have a baby at our age.’
‘I told you I was okay with that,’ Thorne said, and he really was. He enjoyed babysitting for their friends’ children, but he was always relieved to give them back. Especially if they had dirty diapers. He was no fool. And speaking of no fool . . . He tugged Gwyn until she sat on his knee. ‘Besides, we have our hands full with Blake.’
Because he and Gwyn had taken the young man in after Thorne had been released from the hospital. Blake was a good kid, who had nobody. His mother was dead, the man he’d called his father for his whole life was going to prison, and they’d had to bury the man who’d been his ‘manny’ since he was three years old.
Thorne looked at it as paying it forward, doing the same for Blake as Phil and Jamie had done for him. The kid was very little trouble so far. He’d been accepted to the engineering program at Georgetown University and was slowly adjusting to his new life.
Blake knew he had a half-brother in Liam Ospina. Gwyn had told Angie about him, and Angie had decided that it was best to expose all the secrets. Liam had been angry at first, at Angie, and at Gwyn and Thorne for interfering in his life. But he’d been polite to Blake. With Liam coming to Baltimore for university, there was a chance these two brothers could have a relationship.
‘Where is Blake?’ Gwyn asked, looking around.
‘He stepped out. Said something about an errand.’ Thorne knew exactly where he’d gone, but was unwilling to say anything to Gwyn in case Blake’s attempts didn’t pan out. It was looking bleak. The kid should have been back almost an hour ago.
But at that moment Thorne got a signal from Ming, who was welcoming guests at the door. A thumbs-up. God. He’d come. He’s here. His heart started pounding, because he really wanted this for Gwyn.
Blake cut through the crowd, a tall, dark, broad-shouldered young man behind him. His hair was wavy, but clipped short. Thorne wondered if he’d have ringlets if it got too long.
Gwyn was talking about the new bartender they’d hired – who’d come with stellar references and a background check that could have satisfied the CIA’s vetting process – when she went suddenly still.
‘Oh my God. Thorne.’ She looked up at him, questions in her eyes. ‘Is that . . . Am I . . . ?’
‘Yes, it is,’ Thorne said, ‘and no, you’re not dreaming or crazy.’
Mouth slightly open in stunned surprise, she gazed at the tall young man behind Blake, then slid off Thorne’s knee and came out from behind the bar. Her face had paled, but there was hope in her eyes. Thorne prayed it would go all right.
‘Aidan,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ She extended her hand formally. ‘I’m Gwyn Weaver.’
‘I know.’ Aidan looked down at her, because the kid had to be six-three. ‘I . . . I hope it’s okay that I came. Blake suggested it would be a good place to meet.’
Gwyn turned to Blake, tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you.’
Blake blushed. ‘It was nothing.’
She turned back to Aidan. ‘I . . . I’m so glad you came. I’m so happy to meet you.’ She seemed overwhelmed, then took a deep breath to calm herself. ‘Do you want to chat? I’d like to do that. To find out about your life.’ She pointed to an empty table far from the band. ‘Can you stay a little while?’
Aidan nodded, and the two of them sat down at the table. They were quiet for a moment, just looking at each other. Then, as Thorne watched, they seemed to hesitantly begin to talk.
‘You’re wrong,’ Thorne said to Blake. ‘This wasn’t nothing. This is huge to her.’
‘I know,’ Blake said softly. ‘She’s been good to me. I wanted to do something nice for her.’
‘Well, you succeeded. And now I’ll have to top it. Thanks, kid.’
Blake grinned. ‘I’m going to get some food. I’m starving.’
‘Of course you are,’ Thorne murmured. ‘Kid’ll eat me out of house and home.’
‘You ate six times more,’ Jamie said as he wheeled over.
‘Maybe seven times,’ Phil added, looking fit and healthy. ‘Is that . . . ?’
‘Yes,’ Thorne said. ‘Blake kept inviting him until Aidan agreed just to shut him up. Cross your fingers that it goes well.’
‘Fingers and toes,’ Phil said. ‘This is a nice party, Thorne. It’s good to see the club open again.’
‘And we hung our shingle out for business at the firm two weeks ago,’ Jamie said. ‘We’ve gotten a lot of good press clearing us, so we’re getting clients. So far, so good.’
It was good. It was all good. Because everyone who mattered to Thorne was here, under this roof. For this moment in time, everyone was safe and happy. He’d take this moment and hold on to it, because it wouldn’t always be like this.
But whatever came his way, he wasn’t alone anymore. He was connected to every person in this room. Some more so than others, he thought as Gwyn shot him a look nearly giddy with joy. This was his family, and for today, everything was good.
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Karen Rose, Death Is Not Enough
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