Chapter 91
He drew a breath, let it out. He was too old to be bothered by a famous and brilliant—and disconcertingly attractive—author’s evaluation of his life. Which he’d enjoyed. Every moment, good and bad. All worthwhile. “Every piece means something. I appreciate the stories, and the reminders to remember them. More tea?”
George shook his head. “Not what I meant.”
“Have you heard from Colby and Jason lately? Colby’s dreadful mother has been in the news again. Some sort of international poetry award. I never could stand that woman; we met once at a garden party, some sort of royal honours, and once was quite enough. She seemed the sort of person who’d critique one’s swimming form while one was busy trying not to drown. I hope Colby’s doing well and not paying her any attention whatsoever.”
George said nothing for a moment. Laurie wondered whether mention of royal honours and garden parties’d been over the top. Possibly.