She also proved to be one hell of a game player. The dinner she had made sat forgotten on the desk as they worked through the levels he'd already run through, then continued on to the next levels, working together to defeat the villains and save the damsel in distress. Every time they succeeded at accessing another level, Kate reacted with the excitement of a child and they did a high five or a little victory dance at the desk while they waited for the next level to load.
They played for hours, until the food was a shriveled and congealed mess, until their necks and hands ached, and until Kate began nodding off in her seat. When Lucern reluctantly suggested it might be best if she went to bed, she agreed with equal reluctance that she should or she wouldn't be able to get up for the shopping trip with his mother.
Oddly enough, Lucern missed her once she was gone. He continued on through another level of the game, but it wasn't the same without her there to share the glee at succeeding. There were no high fives or little victory dances, and he was troubled to find he missed those, too. Even more troubling was the fact that for the first time in years, Lucern felt lonely.
Despite her late night, Kate was up and ready at one o'clock. She stood anxiously waiting by the front door watching for Mrs. Argeneau. When a limo pulled into the driveway, she hurried outside and started down the porch stairs, then paused and turned back uncertainly toward the door. She had unbolted it to leave and didn't have a clue what to do about bolting it again. Dare she leave it unlocked? Or should she wake up Lucern and have him bolt it?
"It's all right, Kate. Don't worry about the door," Marguerite unrolled the back window to call out. "Come along, we've lots to do."
Shrugging inwardly, Kate turned and walked over to the limo. The driver was out to open the door for her by the time she reached it, and Kate murmured a thank-you as she slipped inside; then she did a double take at the sight of Lucern's mother. The woman was bundled up as if they were in the midst of a winter storm.
She had on a long-sleeved blouse, gloves and slacks, then a scarf over her head and covering the bottom half of her face. Over-large sunglasses covered most of the rest. The only patch of skin showing was her nose, and that was slathered with a white cream Kate guessed to be sunblock.
"Don't tell me. You're allergic to the sun like Lucern?" Kate guessed.
Marguerite's mouth twisted in wry amusement. "Where do you think he got it?"
Kate gave a laugh and relaxed back in the limo, prepared for a day of both frantic shopping and pampering. And that was exactly what she got: a frantic rush to choose the perfect dress and see it tailored to fit her, then a couple of hours of delicious pampering at the spa where Marguerite Argeneau's hair stylist worked. She enjoyed herself immensely.
Luc didn't sleep well. He went to bed out of sheer boredom not long after Kate left, but he couldn't find rest. The woman hadn't just invaded his home, she'd made her way into his dreams, too. That fact was enough to make him terribly grumpy on awakening, and it was a surly Lucern who stumbled downstairs Saturday afternoon. He became even more surly when a quick search of the house showed that Kate hadn't yet returned from her shopping sojourn.
Grumbling under his breath, he made his way to the kitchen and—out of habit—opened the refrigerator door looking for blood. It wasn't until he had the door open that he recalled sticking his supply in the tiny fridge in his office, to keep it out of Kate's sight. He considered going back upstairs to fetch a bag, but didn't really feel like it. He didn't really feel like normal food either despite the fact that he and Kate had sacrificed supper the night before for Blood Lust II. And he knew he would be eating a lot of rich food at the wedding celebration, so it was better to put off eating now.
Deciding he'd grab a bag of blood later before leaving for the wedding, Lucern wandered aimlessly out of the kitchen and moved along the hall to the living room. He immediately grimaced. Kate had finished sorting the letters into categories, and there were several form letters awaiting his signature.
Curious, Lucern sat on the couch and began to read through them. They were all very nice, chatty letters that sounded gracious and charming and not at all like him. Kate was a good writer, too. She'd done a wonderful job, and Lucern supposed he'd have to thank her. He also supposed he should hire an assistant to manage such tasks in the future. Unfortunately, he knew he wouldn't. The idea of a stranger in his home, pawing through his things was not a happy one. That was the reason he still hadn't replaced his housekeeper, Mrs. Johnson. The woman had died in her sleep in 1995. Which was eight years ago, he realized with surprise.
Since, Lucern had hired a service to clean his home once a week, and he usually had his meals out or ordered them from a gourmet restaurant down the street. He'd intended to do that only until he found a replacement for the unfortunate Mrs. Johnson, which he'd never gotten around to. He'd think about it and all the trouble it meant, then would decide against it. Why go to all that time and effort only to have whomever he hired drop dead on him after ten or twenty years as both Mrs. Johnson and Edwin had done?