Quinton and I exchanged glances as we watched him walk away. “He can take care of himself.”
“Jefferson or Mark?”
Quinton laughed, and we both turned to Nigel’s grave.
“Merry Christmas, darling.” In spite of the number of years it had been, my eyes burned. “Do you remember that old Chinese curse, May you live in interesting times? Well, this has certainly been an interesting year.” I went on to tell him about meeting Mark Vincent as Harriman Patterson in January. “Although Mark’s never admitted to the fact in so many words.”
“I mentioned him last year, Father. Do you remember? I learned he was keeping a dossier on me, and we began playing a series of mind games. Somehow we became…involved. I hope you wouldn’t be disappointed in me.”