In Over His Head

Chapter 21

Fucking Renna. He stood back from Sharla, and smoothed his hair into place, taking a heartbeat to settle himself. She had interrupted something incredibly important and now the moment was gone.

"Right, let's go then." He eyeballed Renna, daring her to openly disapprove. She didn't, her face a mask of professionalism. He gave Sharla one more look, catching her uncomfortable stance in the doorway, not meeting his eye.

"We'll continue this later," he clipped, and she winced. He was pissed off, and letting it get to him. Obviously, Renna had been rude to Sharla or said something about how odd it was for her to be upstairs, and his mother was having kittens about her staying in a guest room instead of a staff room, which he had to deal with in a way he shouldn't have. It shouldn't bloody well matter to anyone.

"I've put your flowers in a vase in the west front parlour," Renna said as they descended the stairs. "She's having tea brought in."

"How did she fall?" Kevin asked, stopping at the bottom.

Renna leaned on the bannister and sighed. "She was gardening and she toppled off her knee rest reaching for a rose bloom. Hurt her wrist. We took her in to get it x-rayed and its fine, just a bad sprain."

"It wasn't off a horse?" he asked.

"Goodness no, what did you think happened?' Renna said. "She asked me to send for you, said she wanted you to come home. Said she was feeling off."

Kevin reined in the urge to yell at his mother's assistant because even Renna knew that was utter crap. His mother's nose was out of joint because of their last conversation. He sighed outwardly, and rubbed his forehead. This was going to give him a headache before the day was through.

"Let's go then," he said a little less forcefully than before, but Renna didn't move.

"Sir, it isn't my place to say, but with your mother's stress, and the tabloids, she shouldn't—"

"Then don't say it," Kevin snapped, interrupting her. "You were hired as an assistant, not an advisor. You have no authority to have opinions on how we live our life."

He was not normally so abrupt and he took a breath to apologise, but Renna clicked her mouth shut and strode off towards the front parlour. He let it lie, because it was the truth. Maybe he needed to be more forthright with the staff. He didn't like it. He couldn't wait to get home to Barleystook and Mo's more gentle nature.

They reached the front parlour door just as another staffer was pushing through with a tray of tea. Kevin paused and followed them in. His mother was sitting up in her favourite Kath Kidston chair, the sun streaming in from the big bay windows that overlooked the rose garden. A beautiful silk throw was artfully draped across her legs, propped on a footstool.

"Ah, there you are. All settled in? I thought we could have a small dinner this evening on the back deck. Such a beautiful evening!"

"Mother," Kevin deadpanned as he sat opposite her on a giant sectional sofa. A beam of sunlight trying to peek through the clouds hit him squarely in the eye and he moved over closer to her. Then he saw her frown, and her wrist, wrapped in a brace. "How is your wrist?"

"Oh this? Nothing at all. Now pour us some tea."

She could be infuriating. He stepped over to the tray, poured her tea, found the teacup saucer, and handed it over. She took it with a small smile and set it on her lap.

"So you called me home from my business trip to Italy for a wrist sprain?" He took his time making his own tea, his back turned to her. He wanted to be direct with her, and honestly, he was too worked up to play nice right now.