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“Of course, it’s a package deal. With Clark comes Fleur.”

“Well…” That was the truth, no point pretending otherwise.

“But Fleur does have some good ideas. She’s young, energetic, and it never hurts to have a fresh perspective.”

“That, right there, is a fresh perspective,” Andy said, and Uncle C. chuckled.

“But the fact is, everything I have goes to you one day, my boy, so if you think it’s a bad idea…”

“It’s not a bad idea, andone dayis a long time off. I don’t even want to think about it.”

Uncle C. patted Andy’s hand. “Besides, you’re going to be busy setting up this new business with Quinn.”

“I’m here for whatever you need,” Andy said quickly.

“I know that.”

“Quinn too.”

“I know that too.”

Ruthanne had also stopped by with well wishes and the intelligence that Cyril Sirius was once more home in the Netherlands, following what he claimed to be a brief business trip to New York City.

It didn’t seem right to Andy that Sirius had skated, but Quinn shrugged it off.

“His network is down. That’s the important thing.”

“According to whom? Probably not the Whittakers.”

“According to the people I used to work for. And, to be fair, Sirius wasn’t any more to blame for the Whittakers’ demise that the Whittakers were.” Quinn smiled faintly at Andy’s expression. “In this business you’ve got to take the wins where you find them, Andrew.”

“And what about in the art-recovery business?”

Quinn’s, “Mm,” was suspiciously noncommittal.

Andy shook his head, but the truth was, he was taking his wins just like Quinn recommended, and the biggest win so far was starting a new life together. He’d never imagined he could possibly be grateful for having been fired from the Worley Foundation, but the truth was, if he’d still had his job, things would have been a lot more complicated.

The only one of Uncle C.’s friends who had not shown up yet to personally to extend his holiday greetings was ChiefMillard, and that probably had to do more with Quinn’s presence at Uncle C.’s.

Mrs. Dubonnet raised her head, listened for a moment, and said, “Oh my goodness! We were too early. Listen! That’s the clock in the church tower.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. Sure enough, the deep, melodious chimes of the clock in the little church tower could be heard in the distance.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Happy New Year!” Miriam cried. She began to slosh champagne into everyone’s glasses for another round of toasts and clinking glasses.

Quinn said, “Happy New Year,” and clicked his glass against Andy’s.

Andy swallowed champagne, muttered, “I’m going to let them finish their toasts, and then I’m shoveling them all out of here. Uncle C. should be in bed.”

“So should we all.”

Andy grinned, nodded, raised his glass, and called over the babble of voices, “To old lovers and new beginnings.”

“I don’t think they heard you.” Quinn leaned in for a kiss.

“So long as you do.”

Quinn’s soft, “Always,” tasted of champagne.