“Video games?” I echoed. “I thought you liked to write screenplays.”
“What? No. Well, sort of. See, it’s a bit stupid, actually. You’ve probably heard of one of them.” Jack said the words aloud even as I mouthed them along with him. “Ghost Mediator.”
Jesse looked astonished. “That’s you?”
Jack laughed some more, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I know. Weird, right? I mean, I know we’re supposed to keep the mediator thing a secret, but I never expected anyone to see my game, much less take it seriously. I submitted it to a contest. Honestly, I never expected to win. They’ve even made a stupid TV show based off it.”
“I’ve heard of it,” I said woodenly.
“I know, it’s really bad.” Jack looked a bit deflated by my lack of enthusiasm. “It’s taken off, though, internationally, and I get a ton of residuals. That lady who stars in it—”
“She’s fake,” I interrupted. “Her readings aren’t real.”
“Yeah, I know. But people really seem to like her. I try to give a lot of the money to charity. Animal shelters, mostly, but children’s charities, too. Hey, I could give some to the hospital where you work, Jesse. That would really annoy my brother.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Jesse slapped Jack on the shoulder. “Keep up the great work.”
Of course Jesse would say this.
“Thanks.” Jack looked around shyly. “So, I don’t suppose there are any, uh, girls my age here? It’s cool if there aren’t. I know it’s asking a lot.” His gaze was following Gina, who looked amazing, as usual, but had just finished dancing with Jake. Both were smiling at nothing. Gina had been doing a lot of that lately, not only because her romantic life was improving, but because she’d landed a plum role in Carmel’s outdoor production of Pippin. Local theater wasn’t exactly Hollywood, but it was better than nothing.
“Not her,” I said to Jack. “She’s too old for you. And I think she might be taken.” I looked around, noticing that Adam and CeeCee were having one of their epic debates over by the cake table. Then I spotted Becca.
“You know what?” I smiled. “That girl sitting over there by my stepbrother David, looking bored? She actually likes Ghost Mediator.”
Jack brightened. “Does she? Oh, great, maybe I’ll go say hi. Thanks again for inviting me. I’ll talk to you later.” He was smiling as he made a beeline toward Becca, casually sidestepping his nieces, who were teaching Dr. Patel’s children how to play “flower girl” (in their version, it was played by violently hurling pinecones at one another).
“So,” Father Dominic said, hardly bothering to lower his voice. “The boy doesn’t know those girls are his brother’s children?”
“Shhh!” I glared at Jesse. “You really did tell him everything.”
“Of course. You told her everything.” He pointed at Dr. Jo, who’d recovered from her shock and was enjoying cake and champagne with Becca’s father and stepmother. I couldn’t tell if she’d met them before—perhaps because they’d set up an appointment for family counseling—or if their meeting was merely felicitous.
“Not everything,” I said with a glower. “Thanks a lot for inviting assorted randos from my past to my wedding reception, Father D. Who else can I expect to show up? If you say the Backstreet Boys, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Susannah,” Father Dominic said. “Jack Slater shouldn’t be ostracized because of his brother’s antisocial behavior. Now who is that lovely woman over there?” He gave Dr. Jo an appraising glance. “Why have I never met her before?”
I looked from Dr. Jo to Father Dominic and then back again. “Nope,” I said firmly.
He had the grace to appear discomfited. “Oh, Susannah, please. I’m not interested in her romantically. I took a vow of chastity over sixty years ago and that’s not something I’m likely to abandon, even if others in my profession seem to take it—and every conceivable limit of morality—lightly.”
It was going to take him far longer to get over the revelations about Father Francisco than the injuries he’d sustained at the hands of Lucia.
“Whatever, Father,” I said. “I’m not introducing you.”
“Susannah, you do have a tendency to think the worst of people—even people you supposedly know and trust. I’m not saying she isn’t a very pleasant-looking woman. I’m only saying it would be enjoyable to get to know someone my own age who isn’t affiliated with the church or the school. This is a small town and I rarely meet new—”
“Nope,” I said again, even more firmly, and took Jesse’s hand. “You’re on your own with that one, Father D. You wheel yourself over there and make your own introductions. We’re going inside now. I need to have a word with my husband.”