Silver Fox (Silver Shifters 2)

Joey understood the worry beneath the superficial animosity: the anxiety of a matriarch who wan

ts the best for those they love. He’d come to understand that Elva saw security as the first requirement for a suitable partner—and social respectability only bolstered that. He leaned into his fox’s natural ability to smooth over romantic troubles, and then he knew exactly the right thing to say.

“I think he’s an excellent match for Nicola,” Joey said. “It’s clear that he loves her. And he’s a good father. Those children are loved. What’s more, this business he’s starting with her friend Isidor sounds very promising. In fact, I’ve decided I need to consult them professionally. I own a fairly sizable lot, and keeping it nice tends to get away from me.”

Sure enough, Elva’s whole demeanor brightened. “Well! Yes, Isidor has an excellent business sense. Always has had. We always hoped that . . . well, perhaps enough said. He seems to have hit it off with your exchange student. Maybe—if Xi Yong stays in California—he might do some designing for them, Chinese-style.”

Joey suppressed a laugh. “I think that is very possible. Now, what can I do to help get the lunch ready?”

So this was what had been missing, Joey thought as he sat next to Doris: the family gathering. Family gatherings were equally important in China. The only real difference, besides the language, and the utensils, was the tables were round instead of rectangular. But the essentials were all there: plenty of delicious food, and people enjoying the food and each other.

Plates passed back and forth, as well as conversation. Joey counted at least five conversational topics zinging back and forth, exactly the way he’d loved so much in China, and had tried to encourage at his own house ever since.

He divided his time between soaking in the cheerful atmosphere, and Doris at his side. She and her mother were totting up the foods that actually taste better on the second day.

On her other side, Nicola cut Pink’s sandwich into little triangles, explaining how her Aunt Doris had done that for her when she was little. “Somehow triangles taste better than squares, don’t you think?”

Lon had to test this hypothesis, with his thoughtful air.

Pink said, “Yes!” and crammed a sandwich triangle into her mouth.

Joey looked with satisfaction down the table, then back to Doris, who was watching the dynamics between the three teenagers with a slightly troubled frown.

Vanessa was teasing Vic over his favorite video games. Joey could tell she was being outrageous to make him laugh. But Marrit and Vic were taking sides in a way that sounded a hair’s breadth from argument.

“You okay?” Joey asked Doris in an undertone, after making sure that everyone was paying attention to someone else.

“Marrit,” Doris whispered. “Is she mad at Vic, or flirting?”

“Both, I expect,” Joey said.

He had seen many teens like Marrit—used to being the smartest person in the room, she tended to use her brains as a weapon. Vic was not having any of it, and it seemed that Marrit was unused to his type of banter. The attraction between them seemed to spike with every comment. But Vic hadn’t asked for either advice or help, so Joey was content to observe from a distance.

Marrit suddenly got up, announced, “I’m done,” and marched out.

She glanced back once—to see Vic helping Lon to the baked applies.

Marrit banged out of the kitchen, unnoticed by the rest of the table, and Doris let out her breath.

Joey said, “Shall I grab the apples before they vanish?”

Doris’s smile flickered. “Thanks. They’re even better with ice cream. Next time, I’ll know to bring a couple of gallons.” She flicked a smile at the children.

The rest of the meal passed in the same atmosphere of merriment. And when all the food had been eaten, Doris’s mother rose and in quick succession issued orders for the last set of chores before they could depart.

Joey had just finished helping move chairs when he caught sight of Doris peeking around the corner on the other side of the phone alcove. He got up and crossed to her.

She drew him into the hallway. “Joey, I don’t really know Vanessa and Vic that well, but Vic and Marrit … I think there might be . . . an issue.”

“Where?” he asked, instantly concerned. “Show me.”

“It’s Marrit. She won’t leave Vic alone,” Doris whispered, drawing him back down the length of the house to the stairwell next to the laundry room. “I heard them when I was starting another load of sheets. I think they might have gone outside.” She peered into the empty mud room.

“Let’s see what we can do,” he offered.

Her face cleared. “Thank you.”

Doris’s hand slipped into his. Together they walked down the hall behind the kitchen, and exited out the mud room. The sound of two low, intense voices drew them around the corner of the house. Beyond was the blank wall—no windows, intended for no witnesses.