“Can I get you folks something?” Quentin said.
“A glass of wine would be good,” Mr. Wilson said.
“Red or white?”
“Whichever’s quickest.”
“Why don’t you folks have a seat while I get the wine?” Quentin said.
“I’ll help you,” Nate said, and followed Quentin into the kitchen.
{How bad is it?} Quentin sent.
{Grandma cried a lot in the car, but I think she’s better now.}
{Good. Listen, I have someone coming over to visit us before we go to dinner.}
{Who?}
{John and Lucille Cullen.}
{What a good idea. Did you tell Father Cullen what happened?}
{Yes. I told him about last night, and what you told me earlier.}
{That’s good, Q. He’ll know just what to say to her.}
While they’d been communicating mentally, Nate had rounded up four wineglasses, and Quentin had removed a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the wine cooler and opened it. Nate set the four glasses on a tray, and Quentin poured the wine.
“Off you go, babe,” Quentin said.