Chapter Text
“You what?” Linda Ellacott was staring incredulously at her husband, who stood in front of her, a combination of pride and embarrassment on his face.
“He did,” said Robin. “I was only paying attention to Cormoran - didn’t occur to me that Dad would try to lamp him.”
“ You can't shake hands with a clenched fist,” mocked Martin in falsetto.
“Keep calm, prove them wrong,” said Jonathan, in an equally affected tone.
Michael waved his hand at them. “He’s had it coming.” He turned to Strike. “I appreciate that you had the thought first, even if she stopped you.”
“Michael!” said Linda, dropping into a chair.
“Really,” said Robin. “I appreciate the chivalry, but don’t you all think it was really my call to decide if punches should be thrown?”
“True,” said Strike. “And I know you could do it, too.” He addressed Michael specifically. “She can defend herself. One of our subcontractors tried to surprise her from behind earlier this year and she probably broke his nose and toe, and almost stabbed him.”
Robin gave Strike an affectionate look. Then she broke into laughter. “Oh, Mum,” she said. “If you could have seen Geoffrey and Matthew on the floor. No one was hurt, but it was so… undignified. You couldn’t have asked for a better outcome actually.”
“They were on the floor when I came in to see what was taking so long,” said Stephen, who was barely able to speak because he was laughing so hard. “Cormoran put out his hand to help them get up, and Geoffrey waved him away, So instead…” He stopped, and took a deep breath, and then tried to continue. “Instead, Geoff got on all fours and crawled over to the nearest table to pull himself up.”
“The bartender gave us a round on the house,” said Robin. “Apparently they’ve had problems with Geoffrey in the past.”
“A win-win!” said Martin, pumping his fist in the air.
“I wish I’d seen it,” said Jonathan, sadly. “I wish you’d made a video.”
“Was the baby cute?” asked Jenny, who was attempting to convince Annabel to eat something brown and unappetizing.
This made everyone laugh harder. Stephen put his hands on her shoulders, and patted them fondly.
Strike cleared his throat. “We didn’t really get a look. But it has impressive vocal chords.”
“I felt a little bit bad for Sarah,” said Robin, holding her thumb and forefinger together to indicate exactly how small her sympathy extended. “She looked tired, and now she has to go home and listen to the baby and Geoffrey rant and rave.”
Rowntree took this opportunity to raise his head from where it had been resting between his paws, and let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a sneeze.
Strike put his arm around Robin, pulled her close, and placed a kiss on top of her head, lingering a moment to inhale the scent of her shampoo, mingled with the fresh tang of the outdoors. In turn, she snaked her arm around his waist, and squeezed. The kitchen was warm, and the roast that Linda was resting on the counter smelled amazing and was making Strike’s mouth water. Looking around the room, at the Ellacott family smiling and poking fun at each other, the word home scrolled through his mind, like a banner. Strike marveled at the twist and turns that had led to his presence in this house, with these people. Certainly none of his youthful predictions of his future would have imagined the sense of well-being he felt today. He had a brief moment of fear, wondering what he did not know about his future 40 years hence, but he quickly pushed any negativity from his mind and instead relaxed, and allowed himself to get lost in the moment.