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“It wasn’t by choice. He was rummaging around one time and found my syringes.”
“Shit. Did he steal them?”
He obviously knew Tinker too well, was able to instantly assess his reaction to a stash of syringes. “No. I told him I needed them. That’s why I had to tell him.”
Xander pinched the bridge of his nose. “At least I can understand why he didn’t tell me.”
*
It was good,if a little like being in a fishbowl, to sit at the table with family after so long away. Xander let his gaze linger on Bonnie at the far end of the table, its polished timber protected by a white damask tablecloth, silver sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Outside had turned overcast and grey so his grandmother insisted on drawing the red velvet curtains, giving the dining room a cosy feel. In summer the French windows could be left open to the spacious back gardens with the bandstand-style gazebo used for weddings.
It was a small group, even with the Forsters, close friends of his grandparents who’d seen him grow up. And Bonnie. There were a couple of places spare, but Flo decided to begin the meal before it cooled.
The inn had been a rich man’s residence at the turn of the twentieth century. It became a boarding house after the first world war, catering for returned soldiers. Fortunately, most of the furniture had stayed with the building and, though it had been run down when his grandparents bought it as new immigrants in the seventies, they’d been able to bring it back to its former glory over the years. Don had done a cabinetmaking apprenticeship when he was demobbed back in Scotland, so most of the work he’d done himself.
Everyone looked up as Tamara and Colin came in, the girl puffing as if she’d been running with the child on her hip. “Sorry I’m late. Still a heap of snow on the road in places.”
Xander lifted Colin into the high seat and handed Tamara a platter of food once she was seated. “‘We’ve barely started.”
He saw her look around the group and sensed her disappointment. “Is everything okay?”
“I thought the band might be here.”
“They’re on holiday until a few days before the concert.”
“Oh.” She mastered herself and smiled around at her fellow diners. “Thanks for having me, Mr and Mrs MacDonald.”
“Call us Flo and Don. You aren’t a schoolgirl now.”
She coloured up and Xander smiled at her reassuringly. “You call me Xander with no problem, and I’m nearly ten years older.”
“It’s not the same.” She flushed again and Xander bit his lip. He didn’t know how to handle a girl like Tamara. He was used to the aggressive pushiness of his fans. A local kid with a crush was out of his experience. He could feel Bonnie watching them both with an expression very much like worry, her brows drawn together over shadowed eyes.
He didn’t get an opportunity to think any further. Everyone wanted to know about his recent tour and his plans for the future. He kept the future vague, but enjoyed sharing the highlights of his recent travels throughout North America. Fortunately, no one touched on Tinker’s death. He’d found that everywhere. People didn’t know what to say. Hell, he didn’t know what to say.
*
Bonnie was cleaningup the kitchen when he finished waving away the guests and went looking. “Nearly done?”
“I had to clear up in the dining room.”
“I thought we didn’t offer lunch or dinner.” He couldn’t remember it being a thing when he was at home all the time.
Scraping the last of the scraps into the bucket for the chickens, Bonnie grimaced. “We don’t, unless it’s a special request. They take whatever we give them if they do want it. Both guys are businessmen, I think. I suppose they don’t want to have to chase around looking for an eating place.”
“You should tell them no. It’s extra work you don’t need.”
“Not my decision to make. This is Flo and Don’s place. They like to keep the guests happy. It certainly keeps them coming back. Almost everyone staying for the festival this year are repeat customers.”
He picked up a tea towel and dried the glasses, slotting them back into their special cupboard. “What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Colin and I are decorating the Christmas tree in the lounge room. I meant to get it done yesterday, ready for the whole Christmas festival theme.”
“Life intervened?”
“Pretty much.”
He hung the towel on the rack. “I’ll head upstairs and get the box of decorations while you finish up.”
