“No, It’s okay, Finn. She’s just dropping something off. Get her to take a seat in the foyer and I’ll come right down.”
“Righty-ho, sir.”
Marshall replaced the phone then began removing his apron.
“It’s Lindy, one of our television assistants. She’s dropping off some important papers for me to sign. I’ll only be a second. Help yourself to more vegetables.”
With Marshall gone, Spencer got up from the table and cleared the rest of the used pans from the stove, bringing the pot of vegetables over to the table. Marshall returned not long after, carrying a large manilla envelope, which he tossed onto the countertop. Spencer wanted to ask what the call was about, but thought he’d wait for Marshall to offer an explanation.
Marshall took his seat and returned to his food without a word.
“Do you want to heat that up?” asked Spencer.
“No, it’s still warm enough,” said Marshall with a chuckle. “When I’m overseas, working to tight deadlines, we tend to live on lukewarm food. That’s what the papers are about, actually. Some legal stuff I needed to sign and get out of the way for my final overseas assignment of the year. Those are my copies in the envelope.”
“Oh yes?” asked Spencer as Marshall forked a chuck of steak into his mouth then sipped his wine. “Where to this time?”
“Monday after the client event, a small team of us are flying to Eastern Europe to cover the presidential inauguration in Kryszytonia. Chairman Tobias Karimov is being sworn in as the new president, and he’s not only a good friend of mine—I’ve interviewed him twice on my programme—but something of an inspiration. His reforms are going to transform their country. Because of the state of things globally, few governments are sending dignitaries to the ceremony, but I’ve been invited to attend personally to witness and record the historic moment for posterity with others from the press corps.”
“Sounds like a great honour.”
“It is, it really is. And probably my last overseas assignment for many months. My other news is that I’m pushing back on my workload. If my recent run-in with the press has taught me anything, it’s that I need to put more time aside for myself. The latest series ofSay What You Meandoesn’t air until March, and another series isn’t scheduled at the moment. However Darcy’s been working her magic behind the scenes, and the television network has commissioned a new programme with me as the host and voiceover, shooting in the third quarter, where we examine landmark legal cases in Britain and around the world and how they changed the course of history. They want to callthe showMarshall’s Law, and it means I’ll be spending a lot more time here at home.”
Spencer really liked hearing Marshall would be around more, but simply smiled down at his plate. Spencer took his time eating, waiting until they finished their meals together. Both sat back in their seats, grinning at each other.
“What are you doing for Christmas?” asked Spencer, taking a sip of the wine.
“Good question. I’d usually stay with Mother, but it looks as though she’s going to remain in the Bahamas. Can’t say I blame her, with everything going on here. As for me, I don’t know. I’ll probably invite myself to Darcy’s—”
“Come with me,” blurted Spencer. “To my family’s place in Bournemouth. I’m heading down on Christmas Eve. I mean, only if you want to. But I’d love to have you there. The whole family would.”
“They know about me?” asked Marshall, more humoured than curious.
“No, but I’m sure they’d be fine. In fact, Iknowthey would. But only if you want to come. I don’t mean to pressure you into—”
“Hey, slow down a bit. I would be honoured to join you, Spence. I want to meet the lovely people who brought such a sweet guy into the world.”
“Seriously? You’d really come?”
“Would we have separate bedrooms?”
“No. I mean, I could check to see if Garrett’s going to be there. But I’ve got my own decent-sized bedroom with a double bed. Well, it’s not as huge as yours, but it’s comfortable and, at a squeeze, big enough for the two of us.”
“This is sounding better by the minute.”
“And my father promised to cook the turkey this year, in case you’re worried about food poisoning.”
Marshall laughed out loud.
“Okay. Well, I really need to meet this poor, put-upon mother of yours whose culinary skills you’re constantly disparaging. And I would be more than happy if you introduced me as your new boyfriend.”
“Really?” asked Spencer, his eyes wide.
“Yeah, really,” answered Marshall, his fond gaze dropping to Spencer’s mouth before his smile slipped away and he met Spencer’s gaze. “Just one thing.”
Spencer fully expected him to beg off the idea.
“I’m volunteering again on Christmas Eve. Only in the afternoon, from three until six. Me and some others are helping to work a soup kitchen around the back of King’s Cross station. Would it be okay if we leave after that?”
