Chapter 78

Behind him, Matheson, Mark’s agent, also held a tray, this one piled with plates, cups, and forks. A carafe of coffee, a sugar bowl, and two small pitchers were already on the coffee table. Matheson’s expression was hooded, but he nodded at me and set the tray down.

“Coffee, Mr. Mann?”

“Yes, please. Is that Peaberry Kona Viennese?”

“Yes.”

“Forty bucks a pound, babe.” Mark examined the sandwiches Theo offered him and selected one. He put it on a plate, then helped himself to coleslaw and potato salad.

“It’s Theo’s favorite.” Matheson gave his lover one of the most fatuous smiles I’d ever seen.

“You get what you pay for.” And if I recalled correctly, that was the type of coffee bean Mark had been stocking for the past six months.

Matheson poured a cup. “I believe you take it with half-and-half. I’m sorry, we only have milk or cream.”

“Cream will be fine.”

He handed me one of the pitchers.

“And sugar.”

He gave me the sugar bowl.