Based on the way Simone is leading me into the hallway, she is obviously out for blood, which I can appreciate considering my own shift into predator mode. She doesn’t even bother to put her shoes back on and I notice that her toes are painted the same color as the nails of the fingers holding my hand.

She’s the one to shut the door behind us and immediately pounce. I watch her eyes dart to Stuart in my arms and I enjoy the mental conflict going on behind them. She would happily rip my throat out right now, but for the sake of her nephew, is holding back.

“So, you thought you would just drop in and surprise me?” she demands, trying to keep the anger out of her voice

“I thought it would be a nice surprise for you, since you seemed so eager to take on the role of guardian. At least Stuart was here to see how his aunt honors his mother’s memory.” I make sure to add a subtle note of reproach to my voice. Let her get emotional. Perhaps she’ll say or do something regrettable.

I see the instant fire in those eyes. One look at her nephew is enough to douse the flames. Slightly.

Stuart is looking back and forth between us with those wide gray eyes. Not the best introduction to his new life I suppose. All the same, this little detour to Simone’s will be temporary. Eventually, he’ll be settled safely and securely up at the Knickerbocker School for Boys.

With gritted teeth she smiles at me. “It was what Bette would have wanted. A proper Manhattan Wake.”

“What the hell is that?” I blurt.

One eyebrow goes up. “Like I said, a celebration of her life, of who she was. Having actually had some social interaction with my sister, I have a pretty good idea of how she would have wanted me to honor her memory.”

She reaches out a hand to ruffle Stuart’s hair and he hunches his shoulders, cringing underneath it, but not without a big smile. “In fact, I’m glad Stuart was here to see it. So he would know just how much his mother was loved.”

“You do realize that the song currently playing in there is about sex?”

She gives me a bewildered look, which tells me that she had no clue. Yet another point in favor of me as guardian. Then her eyes land on Stuart and she darts them back to me with condemnation. “And you realize that you are holding a five-year-old boy in your arms?”

“If we’d have known you were in the middle of a party we wouldn’t have dropped by,” I say with a sardonic tone in my voice.

She rests her hand on her hip and presses her lips together. Then she straightens up and a lofty expression comes over her face. “Well, thank you for coming, Archer.”

My brow wrinkles in confusion at her suddenly magnanimous tone.

She looks at Stuart adoringly. “As much as I would love, love, love to have you all for my own starting tonight, your aunt has to finish honoring your mother’s memory, and it’s well past your bedtime.” She casts another hard glance my way. “Are you okay spending one more night with your uncle? I promise to pick you up tomorrow bright and early, how about that?”

“I’d like that,” he says, giving her that gap-toothed smile.

“Wonderful! We can catch up on everything and you can tell me all about your visit with Uncle Archer.” She raises an eyebrow my way with a satisfied look then gives Stuart her attention again.” Now how about a hug?”

He all too eagerly unwraps his arms from my neck and falls into her.

“Mmm, it’s so good to see you, my sweet, sweet boy,” she hums, closing her eyes as though that hug is the greatest thing to happen to her all year.

I’m still holding on to his lower half which forces me to both crouch down and move in close to Simone. Close enough to smell the flowery, feminine scent emanating from her. Close enough to inspect every inch of that face that turned my world around so long ago. Close enough to….

Her eyes blink open then flutter. I clear my throat as an indication that either the hug should end, or she should just take him out of my hands. Anything to get out of this awkward situation. In her bare feet she certainly isn’t short, but her five-foot-six or -seven inches still puts her about a head shorter than me.

She lets go and I have to place one long arm around Stuart to pull him back up. Before I realize that I could have just set him down on the floor, his arms are around my neck again.

“Is everything alright out here Simone?”

We all turn toward the voice, which belongs to a man in his late forties who has one of those faces that’s permanently cheerful, even with the suspicious glance he casts my way. His face brightens when he sees Stuart.

“Yes, Beau,” Simone says breezily.

“Is this your nephew, then?”

“Yes he is!” She says brightly. “Be prepared for the pitter-pat of little feet from now on.”

If one of my neighbors cheerfully warned me about such a thing, I’d be breaking the lease on my apartment the next day, but Beau laughs merrily. “It will be nice to have a kid running around this place.”

So much for tapping into the neighbors for dirt on Simone. Apparently, even with what has to be an ear-deafening party going on right next door, Beau has no issues with his neighbor.

“Well, alright then,” he casts one more assessing glance my way, then smiles at Stuart. “I look forward to a more formal introduction one day young man.”

“We’ll be by next week, Beau.”

Mr. Rogers himself would be thrilled.

“We should say our goodbyes, Stuart,” I suggest.

“Good night Aunt Simone!” Stuart says loudly.

“Good night Stuart!” She says with the same enthusiasm. Then her face becomes perfectly impassive. “Archer.”

“Simone,” I say just as coolly.

“We can meet around,” her eyes dart to the door where her party is, “noon.”

I chuckle at her optimism. I am even more amused when I see her eyes narrow slightly as she reads my thoughts. I’d be surprised if the hangover is even gone by then. She spins on her feet and struts back to the party.

I watch her go, then carry Stuart back to the elevator. If he was recalcitrant before, now the chatter is nonstop.

“Are you going to have a Manhattan Wake for Daddy? If you do it should be blue. Pink is for girls, like Mummy.”

Now that he’s actually saying more than one word sentences to me, I realize that he actually has a slightly British accent, which makes sense as most of his talking life has been in London.

“Actually, Kevin’s would probably be more of an Irish Wake.” I say with a semi-amused grin as the elevator takes us down.

I think about how Kevin would have wanted me to honor his memory. He also would have balked at the idea of anyone sitting around moping over his death. A few hard drinks and a playlist that leaned more toward the Beastie Boys, Radiohead, or Kanye West, that would be his style.

“What’s an Irish Wake? Are there balloons as well?”

Now I’m chuckling. “No, it’s a bit more…grown up than that.”

“Will it be all green then? Can I attend?”

These questions! I’m exhausted, but Stuart seems to have found his second wind. He barely even slept on the plane. How does he have so much energy?

“Tell you what, we get back to my apartment, we can have our own version of a wake. It will be the special Bennett Wake, just for us boys.”

“Can I have chocolate milk?”

“As long as I can have whiskey,” I say with a tired sigh.

He rests his head against my neck again, then he pulls it away again to look at me questioningly.

“Uncle Archer?”

“Yes,” I say wearily, ready for another onslaught of question.

“What’s a DILF?”

I stare in confused surprise before remembering our greeter “CoCo” earlier on. Then I give a short, hearty laugh. “I’ll let your Aunt Simone take care of that one for you.”