And she sounded exactly just like her, too.
"Hugh Sr.," he corrected immediately. He hoped that his grandchildren at least knew that. The polite, grandfatherly sort of thing one ought to say was well, you are welcome any time, or we're glad to have you, or, you might stay for dinner, but none of these things were true. Instead he straightened his jacket and said, "I hope your stay has been pleasant. Unfortunately I have somethings to attend to, but perhaps I may join you two later."
Maeven's expression immediately soured, but Hugh. Sr. gave her a significant look, and she sweetened again.
After that, Hugh Sr. excused himself, went upstairs, and called Seamus' work cell. He knew he was well and truly blocked on his personal, but they still occasionally had to pretend to be civil for things related to the Dail.
After several rings, Seamus finally picked up.
"We aren't collaberating on anything, and I am not swapping my vote."
"That is not what this is about," Hugh. Sr. said, and before Seamus could hang up, he went on: "Joelle is here."
The line was quiet for a good thirty seconds.
"Joelle is here," Hugh Sr. repeated very slowly, and very evenly.
"Yes. Presently downstairs taking tea with your mother. Jacques says she has been here for several hours now."
"What do you mean she's with maman?"
"Don't you dare take that tone with me. Just come and pick up your daughter, Seamus. Maeven's in a good mood and Jacques is keeping an eye on them. Perhaps, don't let it happen again? We are not an au pair service."
It came over the phone in a hiss: "What the fuck." and then the line clicked.
Hugh Sr. settled down at his desk and then started reviewing his stack of reports.
It took another hour-- he must have been speeding-- for Seamus' black car to zoom past the gate and up the drive.
Seamus' heart was in his mouth. He couldn't imagine what would posses Joelle to come here alone. He slammed his car door shut, took the steps up to that (horrible, awful, ugly) house, and when Jacques opened the door to greet him, he whirled on him and snarled: "Next time, you call me."
Jacques muttered some kind of apology, but Seamus didn't listen. He stormed down the hall and burst into the drawing room.
There was Joelle, sitting on one of the couches. His mother sat opposite. At the intrusion, she looked up, and her face brightened and twisted into a terrible smile.
It was like something out of his nightmares. He felt sick to his stomach, skin crawling all over like he's covered in ants. He cut across the room to stand between them in half a second, hedging Joelle behind him.
