Unseen by Steph or Kevin, their mother had been watching them from the second-story window. She saw Kevin storm off, like he seemed to do a lot these days, and Steph leave to go for a walk—again. Things weren’t going well for her and Ian’s offspring. She glanced in the direction of the office block, and saw that she wasn’t the only one who was spying on Steph. Robbie, half concealed behind the entrance door, had been watching the girl intently. He now made to follow her froma safe distance. Christ, she thought. He looks like a stalker.
Raimunda shook her head.“Robbie is acting strange again,” she said.
Behind her, Ian was checking something on his phone.“Mh?”
“Robbie is following Steph around like a little puppy.”
“Maybe he thinks that with Jeff out of the way he’ll get a second chance?”
“Maybe. Would that be a good idea, you think?”
“Mh?”
“God, Ian! Stop looking at that damn thing and listen to me for one second, will you?”
Ian looked up, a blank look on his face.“What’s that?”
“I was asking your opinion about something.”
“What?”
“Steph and Robbie.”
“What about them?”
“Do you think we should encourage them becoming an item again, now that Jeff is gone?”
Ian thought about this for a moment, then shook his head.“I don’t think that’s a good idea. And I think you know perfectly well why it’s not a good idea.”
“Mh, I guess,” she said. “Too bad, though. If Steph and Robbie got together again, she would probably take more of an interest in the winery, wouldn’t she?”
“I doubt it. Steph never had any interest in the business. And neither does Kevin, by the way. Where is that boy, anyway? He keeps disappearing on me.”
“He went for a drive. He just got back.”
“He went for a drive in the middle of the day? Doesn’t he have anything better to do? I swear to you, Rai, that kid will be the death of me one of these days.”
“Don’t let him get to you. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.”
“That, I do,” said Ian, and was lost in his phone once more.
CHAPTER 25
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Shanille had never gone to one of these so-called AA meetings before. Oh, she’d heard about them, of course, and her human had often advised his parishioners to attend meetings—especially those who showed up drunk in the confession box. But she never thought she’d see the day when Francis himself would attend a meeting. He still looked out of sorts, which was understandable since he’d only just sobered up, after going on a marathon bender.
At least he’d had the good sense to do it where no one would see him. He could have passed out drunk in the rectory, but he’d felt that wouldn’t be the decent thing to do. And so instead he’d found that old shack, had grabbed several boxes of booze, and had started trying to drink away his misery.
Shanille could have told him that he was asking for trouble. He made a promise to Marigold, after all. That he would leave the priesthood for her. But after several months, he still had yet to make a move, and so finally Marigold’s patience had run out, and she had—quite correctly, in Shanille’s view—assumed that Francis was never going to leave the church, and so instead she had left him.
And even though her human was still holding onto a sliver of hope that she would change her mind, Shanille didn’t think she would. She had gathered all of her belongings, and had taken off with her daughter to yonder shores. Canada, of all places, where she had family. A new life for Marigold, and for Francis Reilly, of course. At least now he wouldn’t be torn between his calling and his girlfriend.
She watched on as Francis settled in the last row, right next to Tex Poole, Vesta Muffin and Scarlett Canyon, who were also attending the meeting. Odd that she would know so many people here, Shanille reflected. She didn’t see the appeal of alcohol herself. It tasted horrible, in her opinion. But then she was a feline, of course, and in that sense superior to her human contemporaries, who were weak and simple-minded creatures, easily seduced by all manner of temptation and vice. Francis said it often: the spiritis willing, but the flesh is weak. Though as far as she could tell from her extensive experience, both the human spiritand the flesh were equally weak.
At least Francis had her to keep an eye on him. Which is what she’d done out there in the woods, though she hadn’t been able to stop him from succumbing to the temptation of the demon alcohol. She was going to have to up her game if she still wanted to have a human to cater to her needs in the future. Admittedly the experience had given her a great jolt. Andmade her realize how fragile her existence was. Francis could have died, and then where would she be? At the pound, probably, being pawed by snotty-nosed brats and their annoying parents.