Page 79 of Craig

"You clearly have no respect for your elders."

"I do. Just none for you. Give it up, old man. You cannot best me in an argument."

Leaning down, she kissed his cheek. "Will you be joining us for supper?"

"What am I? An invalid?"

"From where I'm sitting, yes."

"Go away."

She grinned unrepentantly as she rose.

"I'll see you for supper, and I was thinking we could play a game of Scrabble when we're finished. Be prepared to be annihilated," she warned.

Stunned surprise washed over his face and brought color to his cheeks. He had no idea she was aware that he loved Scrabble.

"I happen to be the reigning champion," he managed to say gruffly.

"You're going to lose your title," she told him with a laugh as she left the room.

He sat there, staring at the doorway, and felt the hardness around his heart cracking. He really liked her.

She was irreverent and did not care one whit about his position or the fact that he had influence, tremendous influence. And she wasn't cowed by him.

Neither was his grandson. They were a match for each other.

Picking up his pipe, he studied the excellent work and, to his surprise, felt his eyes moistening. Damn her, he thought shakily.

She had come into their lives and home and was changing things.

The supper was a celebration of their return, as was whispered by Millicent.

"He wanted to kill the fatted calf," she told them as they made their way to the formal dining room. Things had changed here too.

There was a fire burning in the hearth, and flowers were on every surface.

"We had to clean top to bottom, and he was right there issuing orders. He wouldn't listen to his doctor about taking it easy, either."

She glanced at Craig, who was looking around in surprise. "He had Andre prepare all your favorites."

"He doesn't know them."

"Of course he does," she muttered. "He has been keeping tabs on you for years."

There was duck in orange sauce, sweet potato casserole, wild rice, rosemary chicken, garden vegetables, and lemon meringue pie made from scratch.

Craig had to struggle not to show his appreciation, but he needn't have bothered. Sitting back in the chair, he watched as the old man and Regina parried back and forth, arguing with each other.

And they discussed everything under the sun: politics, religion, and the state of the economy.

"You're a Democrat," he said it as an accusation.

"And proud of it." She speared her chicken and took an appreciative bite.

"I don't see how a smart woman like you can vote for that moron."

"I don't see how a marginally clever old man like you can be fooled by his policies. He might be the president, but he's an idiot."