Apart from avoiding Harlow Delaney at all costs, I was quite enjoying myself at this party. I had spoken to almost all the guests, leaving only family members left. I happened upon Evie and Alastair when my sister passed me, a determined scowl on her face; she was storming through the crowd heading for someone on the other side of the room while her husband begged me to stop her. Never one to go against my brother-in-law, I side-stepped and placed myself between Evie and whoever was on the receiving end of her wrath. 

"Hi, sis!" My words came out in the most over-exaggerated way possible. It was enough to throw Evie and she had to stop in her tracks just to make sure that I wasn't high or drunk. After I asserted that I was sober, bar for the two beers I've drunk, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and start to steer her to where our brother is stood. "Let's go say hello to Sam."

Sam was in deep conversation with his assistant, Martha Fletcher, and did not look amused at being interrupted. Their words died as soon as Evie and I approached and I could instantly tell that they weren't best pleased, their narrowed eyes glaring at each other before Martha stormed off. Part of me wanted to ask what that was all about but I didn't really want to get involved. Evie, however, didn't have any problems with demanding Sam tell us what that was all about. 

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, feigning innocence. It didn't fly, not with Evie. Plus, as a lawyer, I could tell he was bullshitting us. He relented. "Fine, we were just discussing-"

"Fighting," Evie corrected him.

Sam sighed. "We were discussing her progression at the gallery, that's all. She's been offered a job with Mick at the architect firm and she's seriously considering taking it. I am not happy about that and I was stating my reasons why she couldn't leave me. Us. Why she couldn't leave the gallery. You know what I mean."

Oh, I knew what he meant, alright. My brother had the hots for Martha Fletcher and we all knew it. Hell, even Martha's father, Isaac, knew that there was something between his daughter and Sam. A blind person could see it and a deaf person could hear how Sam's voice changed whenever he spoke Martha's name. They're not kidding anyone with this crap and the sooner they realise it, the better. It was starting to become painful to watch them together; I always wanted to shout, 'Just kiss her already!' at Sam but I had to bite my tongue.

"She can leave if she wants," Evie says, deciding to put Sam's patience to the test. It takes three seconds to gain a reaction from him in the form of a scoff and a face that goes bright red in anger. Undeterred, Evie continues. "We don't have a contract for her and the set up is very informal. Legally, we can't stop her from going to Saunders and Taylor if that's what she wants to do. Plus, I'm sure Michael will treat her a lot better."

Sam was raging by now. "And what's wrong with the way I treat her?"

"You make her get your coffee, you send her to pick up your dry cleaning and you once asked her to go and buy you some condoms back when you and that Siberian woman were dating," our sister reminds him, counting off all the points on her fingers. As she listed all the things that Sam had made Martha do for him, I wouldn't be surprised if she jumped ship. Not that she would; even though Sam treats her like that, she was as infatuated with him as he was with her. "Knowing Michael, he would get her coffee, he would get her dry cleaning and he would never ask Martha to go and buy him condoms."

"First of all, she doesn't drink coffee," Sam retorts, his voice growing in annoyance. He stalked closer and kept his eyes fixed on Evie. To others, this would seem intimidating but to Evie, this was how it is with Sam. She could handle him. "Secondly, she gets her dry cleaning delivered to her house so she wouldn't need anyone to go and pick it up and thirdly, Michael is a fucking monk these days!"

Although I couldn't corroborate the first two points Sam made, he was right about Michael's non-existent love life at the moment. That wasn't the point though; Evie had successfully wound Sam up enough that he would go and speak to Martha and give in to any of her demands, so long as she stayed working at Courtenay Galleries. When Sam stormed off, Evie gave me a triumphant smile. She's the master of getting Sam to do the right thing without telling him to go and do the right thing. I wonder how many times she's pulled that trick on me without me noticing? 

Now that the family reunion was over, I moved through the crowd to find Sophie. She was grimacing as a woman in her fifties spoke to her; I frowned at how her demeanour had changed since we left the house. She wasn't smiling anymore. Yes, her lips were turned upwards at the side but she looked as if she were in pain and wanted to be anywhere but here. 

As I approached my wife, the woman she was speaking with made her excuses and left us. Placing a hand on Sophie's lower back, I watched as she jolted at my touch and sucked in a sharp breath. 

"Soph, are you ok?" I questioned, suddenly very worried that something wasn't right. Her hand grasped my forearm and her nails dug into my skin, causing me to wince from the intense pain. A moment passed and Sophie lets go of my hand. "Baby, I don't think you look so good. What's wrong?"

Sophie sighed heavily. "I don't know. I've got a horrible case of stomach cramps, that's all. Maybe I have a UTI or something."

"Do you want to go home?" I suggest, fully prepared to ditch this shindig so I could make sure my wife was ok. Sophie shakes her head and gives me a tight smile. "You're not fooling me, Soph. If the pain gets worse or if you feel like you've had enough, you let me know."

Sophie nods and opens her mouth but it's not her voice that fills my ears. No, that pleasure went to Harlow Delaney. She was at my side, her arm sliding into mine as she pulls me away from Sophie, demanding that she and I talk about how she's in the process of landscaping her garden and how she hopes the contractors don't find the missing bodies buried under the paving stones. 

Momentarily, I'm scared of how this conversation is going to end but then as we take a turn around the room, Harlow's exterior softens and she starts to ask me about my life, how things were going, how my own grandmother was and if Sophie and I would visit her and her husband soon. Stunned by her polite request to go to Dublin, I find myself numbly nodding in agreement and Harlow rolling off a list of dates that were convenient for her and Bartley. When she suddenly saw someone in the crowd that she knew, Harlow ran off as quickly as her recent hip replacement allowed her, leaving me alone in the middle of the crowd. 

Thankfully, I wasn't on my own for long. "Daniel," my name was called out in a French lilt that could only belong to one person. My mother-in-law, Camille Clément, sauntered towards me in her flamboyant gown, a broad grin on her face. Maybe she's drunk. When she wraps her arm around my neck and pulls me in for a hug, I'm almost certain that she's been on the champagne for a while. "Have I ever told you that you're my favourite son-in-law?"

"No, but you have told me on numerous occasions that you don't like me," I remind her of all the times that she's made some sort of remark wherein I'm her least favourite person in the world, son-in-law or not. "What has led to your change of heart, Camille?"

"Champagne," she beams, waving the glass that's in her hands. "Plus, Adam just annoyed me by telling me that my dress looks ridiculous. But seriously, I do believe you are my favourite. It's the way you... how do you say?"

I shake my head, trying to predict what Camille is trying to say. "It's the way I love, protect and honour your daughter?"

"Well, that's certainly a factor," she agrees, her head bobbing up and down before moving side to side. "More than that, it's the way you... it's like you picked up the broken pieces and pieced her back together in a way that makes her more beautiful than she ever was before. You did that, not just for her, but for me, too. As her mother, I cannot thank you enough."

I was speechless. 

"I'll deny that I ever said this to you in the morning, though," Camille warned me. "I'll be sober then."

Camille's Dress

Martha's Dress

Charlotte's Dress

https://youtu.be/k4V3Mo61fJM

Chapter Song- Fix You ~ Coldplay