He Took My Prison Sentence, So Now My Secretary Is Mine novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Sunday Supper

"Yancey," Delmar Trammell said warmly. "Come in, my boy. Let me look at you."

He took Yancey's hand in both of his.

The Trammell dining room was exactly as Yancey remembered it, long and gold-lit, with a table for twelve and a painting of a clipper ship over the sideboard.

Nine years had silvered the man's hair and put a tan on him, and not much else.

The smile was the same.

It was the smile of a man who has shaken every hand in Houston and owes none of them a thing.

"Mr. Trammell."

"Delmar, please. We're family."

Yancey felt Jud go still at his shoulder.

"Sit here, Yancey, by me. Judson, there. And Ira, you came after all." Delmar turned his smile on his younger son. "What a surprise."

"I was in the neighbourhood," Ira said. He lowered himself into a chair with his cane hooked on the table edge and gave his father a bland look. "Mom's recipe?"

"The roast. Yes."

It was the first time Yancey had been in the house since the night before the lake party.

He sat in the chair he'd been given, and the candles flickered, and a housekeeper in a grey dress poured water into his glass.

Delmar nodded at the sideboard.

"Wine, Yancey? A Bordeaux, I think, for the occasion."

"Water's fine, sir," Yancey said.

"A drop," Delmar said. "To welcome you home."

"No, thank you."

"Of course, of course." The smile did not move. "Yancey is a man who knows his own mind. I've always said so."

Across the table Jud sat with his hands folded and his face blank.

The roast came, and a bowl of green beans, and the sound of silver on china.

"Tell me, Yancey," Delmar said, "how are you finding the work?"

"It's steady, sir," Yancey said.

"My son tells me nothing. Is he a hard employer?"

"He's exact," Yancey said.

"Ah. He gets that from his mother." Delmar cut his meat. "Yancey, I'm so glad you're well. When I think of what you went through. You must let me know if there's anything at all."

"I'm all right."

"Yancey is a credit to himself," Delmar said to the table. "I said that to the warden, you know. Yancey will be fine."

Ira put his fork down.

"You said that to the warden?"

"I wrote him, Ira," Delmar said. "A kindness."

"I didn't know you'd written anyone," Ira said.

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