The hint of a smile faded from his face.
“Take heart,” Søren said. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Søren hung up the phone.
“Girlfriend?” she asked.
“That was my sister Elizabeth. Half sister. You’ll meet her at some point this weekend.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have? And why are you dressed like that?”
“I have three sisters,” he said, sitting on the kitchen table. “And this is a suit. Do you not approve?”
“You look amazing. I didn’t expect you in, like, a business suit.” She grabbed the lapels of his jacket as she pretended to examine his neck. “No collar. Weird. No tie. Even weirder.”
“I have the tie. I haven’t put it on yet.”
“Leave it off. You look good in normal-person clothes.”
“Thank you. I am attempting to stay incognito this weekend. A priest at a funeral and everyone wants to talk about God and the afterlife with you.”
“Can’t imagine why they’d think a priest would want to talk about God.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” He grinned at her. “Car’s on the way. Would you like to see the house?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Well, yes. I do. But I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not ready to know that my fantasy of your bedroom doesn’t match the reality. I’m guessing there’s no hot tub in there.”
She expected Søren to laugh but instead he took her by the wrist and pulled her closer to him. He put his hands on each side of her neck and caressed her jawline with his thumbs.
“Little One, there is something you’ll have to understand. Your fantasies about us and the reality will not match.”
She raised her chin.
“You don’t know what I fantasize about. How do you know?”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead and she closed her eyes, relishing the touch of his lips on her skin.
“A fair point,” he said, brushing her hair off her shoulder. Outside the house she heard an engine. “Our chariot awaits us.”
Eleanor heard a car door open and close. Søren walked into the next room and came back with a small suitcase and a black garment bag over his shoulder. Meanwhile she had an army green duffel bag with a large yellow pin on it that read Jesus Loves You. Everyone Else Thinks You’re an Asshole.
Søren started to pick up her duffel bag, but she took it from him. He had enough burdens to bear this weekend. She could carry her own damn luggage.
Outside in the back of the rectory sat a black BMW M3.
“Nice,” she said, running her fingers over the still warm hood. A woman got out of the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her.
“Sam?” Søren asked, raising an eyebrow at the driver—an incredibly beautiful woman with a shaggy pixie cut wearing a thick leather jacket and black jeans.
“This is as understated as Kingsley gets and you know it.”
“Eleanor, this is Sam—Kingsley’s second-in-command.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Eleanor said.
“You and me both, beautiful,” Sam said with a wink. She held out the keys to Søren.
“She’s the driver,” Søren said.
Sam looked at Eleanor.
“It’s a stick.”
“I love a stick.”
“Then here you go,” Sam said and tossed Eleanor the keys.
Eleanor caught the keys in midair. “You’re not kidding? I’m driving?”
“Of course you are.” Søren opened the back and put his luggage in. “My first car was a motorcycle.”
“You don’t know how to drive a car?” She would have been more shocked if he’d confessed to not knowing how to read.
“Never took the time to learn,” he said without apology. “Are you comfortable driving?”
“Of course I am. My first bike was a car.”
“Good,” he said. He opened the passenger-side door.
“Not good. Community service? Probation? No getting a license until I’m eighteen? Remember all that?”
“Taken care of.” Sam pulled a manila envelope out of her jacket pocket and handed to her.
Eleanor opened the envelope and found a driver’s license with her picture on it, a high school ID card to some school in Long Island and an insurance card for the BMW.
“What the hell?” Eleanor asked.
“In case you get pulled over,” Sam said. “But try not to do that.”
“Who’s Claire Haywood?” Eleanor glanced back down at the driver’s license and noticed the name and birth date. “And why did Kingsley make me a year younger?”
“Because he made you my sister,” Søren said in a tone of abject disgust.
“What?” She looked at Søren and then Sam again.
“King said you’d be pissed,” Sam said to Søren, a wide grin on her face. “He told me to remind you that Claire is the only teenage girl in the world you could be alone with in a car without raising eyebrows.”
“He might be right. Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Søren said, almost smiling, but not quite. “Tell him I get the joke. And tell him I don’t find him amusing.”
“I will pass that right along, Padre,” Sam said.