Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Sean

Sean quickly stepped back and Laurel turned away from the guests to get the cake herself. When she’d restored her composure, she pasted a smile on her face and slipped her arm through Sean’s. “Now, my uncle Sinclair is waiting to meet you. He’s eighty years old, he’s a little eccentric and he’s going to ask you a lot of really weird questions. He’ll probably want to see your fingernails. He has this thing about clean fingernails. Try to humor him as best you can, and if you don’t know what to say, just squeeze my hand and I’ll answer. Remember, your name is Edward Garland Wilson, you’re from West Palm Beach, Florida, and your family is in international banking. Beyond that, he doesn’t know anything about you.”

“Why hasn’t your uncle met Edward by now?” he asked as they strolled across the dance floor.

“Sinclair is a bit of a recluse. He lives in the Rand family summer home on Deer Island in Maine. He likes collecting coins and stamps and watching birds. He’ll only eat green vegetables and he has seven pairs of shoes in exactly the same style and color. Oh, and he believes that aliens are living among us. But, please, don’t get him started on that.”

“He sounds a little crazy,” Sean said.

“He’s a multimillionaire,” Laurel said, licking a bit of frosting off her finger, “so he’s not crazy, he’s eccentric.” When they reached the door to the foyer, she took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with. After Uncle Sinclair, we can leave.”

“And I was just starting to have fun,” he said.

“Are you sure you can handle this with my uncle? If you don’t think you can, then we can put it off.”

“I’m fine,” Sean replied. He slipped his hand around her waist and they stepped outside. Laurel longed for him to pull her into his arms and kiss her again, the way he had on the dance floor. But instead she forced herself to think about the task at hand, the final hurdle in her plan.

They found Sinclair Rand sitting silently in a small alcove just down the hall from the reception room, ensconced in a large wing chair like a member of the royal family. As they approached, he whispered something to Alistair and Alistair nodded. Laurel grabbed Sean’s hand as it rested on her waist and gave it an encouraging squeeze. She could do this. She could turn this whole mess around and make something good of it.

“Hello, Uncle Sinclair,” Laurel said, hanging on to Sean’s arm like a lifeline. “Uncle, this is my new husband, Edward Garland Wilson. Edward, I’d like to introduce you to Sinclair Rand, my uncle.”

On cue, Sean held out his hand. Sinclair took it, carefully examined Sean’s fingertips, then let his hand drop. “You married my niece,” Sinclair stated.

“Yes, I did,” Sean replied.

The old man watched Sean from beneath bushy white eyebrows. “What do you eat for breakfast?” he asked.

At first, Sean seemed taken aback by the question, but then he jumped right in. “Cap’n Crunch. Sometimes I like Lucky Charms or Cocoa Puffs.” He cleared his throat. “You look like an oatmeal guy.”

Sinclair’s eyebrow shot up. “I enjoy a nice bowl of oatmeal,” he said in a gruff tone. “The old-fashioned kind, not the instant. Have you ever had any surgery?”

“No,” Sean replied. “I’m a pretty healthy guy. How about you?”

“You know I have money,” Sinclair continued, ignoring Sean’s question.

“I have money, too. Probably not as much as you have. How much do you have?”

Laurel couldn’t help but smile. Usually, people were intimidated by Sinclair Rand. But Sean seemed unfazed by the questions, turning them all back on her uncle with a directness that left her uncle off balance. “Uncle, we really have to go. Our honeymoon awaits. We’re going to Hawaii.”

“Hawaii? Don’t eat the bananas there,” he warned. “Stay away from all yellow fruit and you’ll be fine. We’ll discuss your inheritance when you get back.”

Laurel bent down and gave her uncle a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you when I—I mean, we get back.” She gave Sean’s arm a tug, but he stayed glued to his spot.

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