Page 20 of Companion Required

“Working, of course,” she said, irritation clear in her tone. “In Cape Town right now, covering some rugby tournament or another. So what do you do for a living, Kieran?”

“Right now, nothing. I worked for an estate agent in London, but times got tough and half of us were let go. I’m punting around for work, but I’m also finishing up my master’s.”

“Master’s?” said Reagan, surprise clear on her face, before throwing a glance at Kennedy. “With a focus on which particular area?”

“International business management. I’ve got two modules to go, then I’m going to be following through for my MBA. Another six modules.”

“What would be your ideal job, Kieran?” asked his father. Kennedy was mystified by how quickly he had taken to Kieran. Both times Patrick had come to stay, the two had barely spoken.

“That’s a good question, Jeff. Something I love about the master’s is that you get a chance to dip into all areas of business management. And even though I take to the finance subjects like a duck to water, the area that really floats my boat is marketing, especially e-commerce.”

“Smart choice,” said Jeff.

“Our group used Kennedy’s company, Grey Havens, among others, for our group assignment in marketing. An example of a well-managed, innovative family business. Quite an inspiration for would-be entrepreneurs. Best of all, we got a high distinction, and a special mention from the tutor.”

“Are you serious?” asked Reagan, grinning at her brother.

“Absolutely,” said Kieran. “Your brother here’s the Richard Branson of commercial security systems.”

Reagan laughed aloud, and even his mother couldn’t help grinning.

“Hardly,” said Kennedy, trying to downplay the compliment.

He felt his face getting warm, something that never happened these days. If Kieran had been sitting closer, he might have tapped his ankle with his foot, but perhaps the awkward silence would do the trick, help change the subject.

“So how did you two meet?” Reagan asked Kieran, mischief lighting her eyes. She appeared to have taken to Kieran, but Kennedy stalled for a moment. They hadn’t discussed how they would handle that particular question. While he was considering how to answer, Kieran had already begun speaking.

“We met in a coffee shop, of all things. I was trying to finish off an assignment on Russian history while Kennedy was knocking back espressos and taking phone calls, as always. We got talking and, well, just instantly connected.”

Brilliant, thought Kennedy.Stick with the truth—or as close as possible—and you can’t go far wrong.

“Is that right?” said Jeff, a little suspiciously. “When was this?”

“A month or so ago,” continued Kieran.

“That’s not very long, is it?”

“The thing is, Jeff, when you know, you know,” said Kieran with a shrug, before turning to Kennedy, winking and flashing him a warm smile. Kennedy found himself smiling back. When he looked across, he noticed Reagan smiling too.

Interrupting them all, Maya came to the head of the group and quietly informed Claire that food was ready to be served. Immediately, Reagan leapt up and started yelling at her brood to get out of the pool and get dressed for dinner.

Kennedy missed eating outdoors, something that rarely happened in England. In his childhood in Singapore, beneath the porch, they would even sit al fresco when torrential rains hit—as long as no strong winds accompanied the downpour—pulling down the blinds to stop errant raindrops hitting them. Kennedy had enjoyed those times, the cooling shower bringing down the temperature, the clatter of raindrops filling the silences at the dinner table.

After the excellent meal provided by Maya—something Kieran enthused about after having seconds of each of the dishes—Kennedy relaxed back on the sofa while Kieran swam and played in the pool with Reagan’s boys. His sister appeared distracted about something, becoming a little distant every now and then—very unlike her—but when pressed, she laughed off his concern. That particular trick she had learned from their mother. Most importantly, though, they liked Kieran, so that was one battle he would not have to fight. By ten o’clock, Reagan had decided to drive the boys home to bed, prompting everyone else to turn in. After wishing his parents and Matty goodnight, Kennedy strolled up to the top floor with Kieran, each of them carrying a large glass bottle of drinking water.

“You did well today,” he said, trying not to sound too condescending. “My family aren’t the easiest people in the world to get along with, but they seem to like you.”

“I like them, too. They’re easy company. Even your dad.”

“You’ve been here half a day. Don’t judge too quickly. Now, if you find yourself awake in the middle of the night, the remote for the television is in your bedside cabinet. Top drawer. Just keep the volume down.”

“Don’t worry about me,” said Kieran. “I’m so tired, I’m going to sleep like a demon tonight.”

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