Thanks for the reviews as always. Not totally happy with this chapter, but it is what it is and I wanted to get it to you today as I'm dropping down to once a fortnight from now on. Let me know if any typos snuck past me.

Family

We heard nothing more from Bardulf that night. The next morning Quinn lingered on the driveway, car keys in hand and eyes scanning our surroundings as I waved to Mr and Mrs Pattersons, the elderly couple from next door.

"They okay?" he asked quietly.

"Not a thought out of place. Unless you count him wishing she'd stop yapping on about what a nice young couple we are."

Quinn didn't laugh and the parting kiss he gave me was a fraction longer than usual, but those were the only outward signs he was on edge. Neither of us believed Bardulf would back down easily. Still, we got into our respective cars and headed out, me to the bookstore and him to run errands.

Tired, I stopped to pick up a coffee on the way. We'd stayed up late, spending my adrenaline and Quinn's full moon energy in a physical celebration of our success. Perhaps not the healthiest reason for making love, but it had certainly improved my temper and the pillow talk afterwards was calmer for it. Not that our conversation was an exchange of sweet nothings, it was a dissection of how things went. I'd taken the opportunity to ask Quinn why the hell he hadn't told me Gloria. He'd shrugged and looked me right in the eye.

"I didn't think it was important. The past is the past, Sookie. It was one night." Not even a memorable night.

I'd caught his thought clearly because he hadn't moved away and there was plenty of skin contact between us. Making a fuss over his omission would be hypocritical, so I'd let the matter drop. Quinn wasn't the only one who hadn't mentioned uncomfortable truths. There were certain things I'd kept from him too, Eric-related things that I knew I should tell him but hadn't. Even though I knew better after my failed marriage to Sam.

Secrets were to relationships like mines were to destroyers. They lurked under the smooth glassy surface until you ran into one and then: Boom! A big hole below the waterline, and the whole thing sinks without a trace.

Trouble was, I just couldn't see a way to diffuse these particular mines without causing a whole mess of heartache. The drive to the book-store was far too short for me to come up with a solution and I sighed heavily as I parked. Gran's policy of keeping quiet sure seemed attractive. Well, tomorrow was another day. I'd think of something.

…

Mid-morning, a delivery man carrying a large bunch of deep red roses came into the store."For Miss Stackhouse," he said. Ursula smiled knowingly at me as I signed for them and Meredith teased me about my blush. Thinking Quinn was sweet to send flowers, I carried them to the break-room for some privacy to read the attached note.

I was thankful I did. They weren't from Quinn. Bardulf had signed the note with a flourish and it read:

Well played, lass. We are at a stalemate. For now.

I snorted. 'For now.' That didn't sound at all ominous, and what was it with vampires and that phrase?

Slipping the note into my purse away from prying eyes, I returned to the counter to endure more of Meredith's teasing and Ursula's knowing looks. Best to go along with it and let them think it was some romantic gesture, I figured. Unfortunately, Meredith seemed to sense I was hiding something because over lunch she asked far too many questions about Quinn and me, and about the roses, even going so far as to ask if Quinn had something to apologise for.

All of which I fielded with the classic 'nunya', but I couldn't throw the roses in the trash without arousing her well-meaning curiosity even further, so I took them with me when I left.

Quinn did a double take when he saw them on the kitchen counter. I handed him the note wordlessly, biting my thumb as I waited for his verdict. He said it looked like our troubles from that quarter were over, but then he was inclined to take Bardulf at face value because he wanted to green-light his mom's party. I wasn't as convinced, but when I called Desmond to discuss it he seemed cautiously optimistic and so I didn't argue.

Besides, I knew Quinn wasn't being as reckless with his family's safety as it seemed. He'd already spoken to Linden about putting some extra precautions in place while they were here. I'd heard him thinking about it.

That evening we met with Bertolini at the office to finalise my schedule for March. The Italian was his usual affable self and it was a short meeting. I agreed to two jobs, a local twoey wedding mid-March and a pack meeting in Georgia at the end of the month. As I gathered up the paperwork I needed to take away, Bertolini leaned back in his chair and watched me.

"Something wrong?" I asked, looking up.

Adjusting his cuff-links nonchalantly he said, "I am wondering how is it you have upset our beloved king."

"Excuse me?" I said, exchanging a look with Quinn.

"I heard you visited him on Friday." Bertolini smiled at me, a warm smile with only a hint of shark to it. "I also hear he has been in a foul temper ever since."

"Is that so," I said, shrugging. "I can't imagine why."

"I hope whatever you have fallen out over will not affect our arrangement," he said, his voice still warm but a flash of steel in his eyes.

"Not on my end."

"Hm. Others have paid dearly for frustrating Hugh Bardulf, but perhaps you will not. You seem to lead a charmed life."

"Well," I said, smiling wryly at his mention of charm, "I have a fairy to thank for that."

"Ah, your protector. Brigant. Yes, he is quite the deterrent." As he got up to leave he added, "Let's hope that remains so, for all concerned."

His eyes flicked to Quinn and I got a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. Had I put Quinn in danger? On the ride home, I suggested we should hire some guards, just for a while. Quinn argued that Bardulf would be a fool to try anything that weekend what with all the extra twoeys around from out of state, not to mention our threat to go to the BSA. If Quinn was at all anxious about retaliation he hid it well, and we were still debating the issue when we pulled into the drive.

"It can't hurt to be careful," I said as I undid my seatbelt and opened the car door.

"Ah, it'll be fine. I know vamps, and I know Bardulf. He'll be licking his wounded pride for a few more days yet. It can wait a week."

I got out, took a step towards the house and froze. My neck was tingling, that sensation you get when someone is watching you. Reaching out behind me with my telepathy, and then all around, I found nothing except our neighbours, all quietly asleep in their beds. Turning as if to speak to Quinn, I peered at the trees across the road. To my human eyes, there was nothing under them but shadows.

"Babe?" Quinn asked quietly from the other side of the car, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. He wasn't as relaxed about the danger we were in as he pretended.

I shook my head. "It's nothing. Someone walked over my grave is all. Let's get inside."

…

That uneasiness dogged me for a few days, even though I hardly had a moment to dwell on it what with work, keeping up with my studies and preparing for the party. Quinn snuck out to the park across the street to nose around a few times in his other shape. Every time he did I wore a hole in the kitchen floor, worried he'd run into Bardulf's goons or that some passerby would call the police to report an escaped tiger. (Normally he only shifted outside city limits.) Much to my relief nothing untoward happened, and all the scent-trails Quinn found were cold. A couple of young weres had been through the park a few days prior, and there were faint traces of a vamp or two, but less recent and too faint to identify. Nothing around the trees opposite the house, only a couple of dead birds in the undergrowth. They'd been dead a while. Quinn reckoned they'd been torn apart by some house cat, a well-fed pet whose instinct to kill was sharper than its hunger.

I didn't get that sensation of being watched again, and after four days with no repercussions I began to relax. Well, as much as I could when Quinn's family were due any day. The party was set for Saturday, but Quinn's mom, Frannie and Timas were arriving Thursday. I took the day off and the house was spotless by lunchtime, but I was a ball of nerves. Thank the Lord they weren't staying with us. Frannie had rented a place nearer the party venue, further out. Timas was hiring a car too, but Quinn had gone to meet them at the airport anyway.

A clatter at the front door announced their arrival. A minute later they were all in the kitchen and we were exchanging over-loud, over-friendly greetings as we all shook hands. No hugs, but Frannie was smiling and Timas seemed relaxed. It was Mama Quinn I was watching though, as surreptitiously as I could. Our last encounter had not been a happy one.

She looked well. Tanned, more tanned than she'd looked on the occasion of our last meeting. Still gaunt, but not unhealthily so; she was a tall woman and rangy with it. Her hair was cut softer than it had been and professionally dyed, no sign of the grey I remembered at her temples. She was missing some of the hardness around her eyes too. Still, it paid to be sure. I brushed against her mind to get a read on her emotional state. She was … cranky. But not about to explode as far as I could tell.

Quinn got Timas a beer while I poured the ladies iced teas. Once everyone had a drink, there was an awkward lull in conversation. Mama Quinn looked around the kitchen with a bemused air and said into the silence: "I don't see why we had to fly out here just for dinner."

She didn't know about the party yet. Frannie wanted it to be a surprise.

"It's not just for dinner," Frannie said quickly. "We came to see Quinn, remember? Make a weekend of it."

"He could've come to us," she grumbled. Her mind stirred a little quicker, agitated and I held my breath. Quinn brushed his fingers against my back in a silent gesture of support.

"Quinn came to us at Christmas, Trudi," Timas said, moving over and patting her on the arm. Three things about that surprised me: that Timas, who'd struck me as rather selfish in Louisville, cared enough to do it; that it visibly calmed her down; and that he'd used her first name. "It's Quinn's turn to host," he continued soothingly, "give Frannie a break. Right, Quinn?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, wrapping his arm around me. "It's our turn."

"And we're happy to have y'all," I added, infusing my voice with warmth and my smile with sincerity. Quinn's arm, heavy and warm, made that easier, as did the pride rolling off him. I don't know if his mom bought it, but Frannie asked her what she most wanted to see while they were in town, Timas began to talk cars with Quinn, and the awkward moment passed.

By the time we sat down to eat, I'd relaxed enough to stop keeping a bead on Quinn's mom. Although I did adjust my shields so I could keep her in the corner of my mind's eye and mute everyone else. Enough to get a warning if she was about to go off like a firecracker, but not so much the mental chatter would distract me from playing hostess.

Dinner went reasonably well, I thought. I'd stuck with simple dishes I could make in my sleep: a pot roast and peach cobbler for dessert. Took the stress out of preparation and left me free to focus on the conversation, which was mostly inconsequential. Timas and Quinn discussed sports, I asked Frannie how her courses were going, and Frannie and her mom bitched about their flight and how busy it was in Memphis these days.

Timas finished his second helping of cobbler with a satisfied noise, wiped his mouth on a napkin and then gave me a dazzling smile. "That was delicious. You're a great cook, Sookie. You should give Frannie some lessons."

Frannie rolled her eyes. "Maybe I have better things to do than stand at a stove all day, Timas."

"Oh, this hardly took all day," I said modestly, "and Quinn helped some. He's pretty handy in the kitchen himself."

"Man should know how to cook, so he appreciates his wife," Mama Quinn said, giving Timas some stink-eye. "I raised John right."

"You certainly did, ma'am," I said, patting Quinn on the arm and wondering if she'd gotten sucked into Timas and Frannie's recent spat.

"Trudi," she said, pursing her lips and scowling at me. "Ma'am makes me feel old."

"Of course," I said cautiously, wary of the way her mind flared with irritation that matched her annoyed tone. Quinn beamed at her though, pleased and relieved, and I got the distinct impression he'd had a word with her.

Clearing my throat, I got to my feet and began gathering dishes. "Why don't y'all go through to the den while I clear up. Would anyone like some coffee?" There was a chorus of agreement, and I waved Quinn off when he offered to help. "Go spend time with your family," I said quietly under the noise of chairs scraping.

The room emptied except for Frannie. "You don't have to do that," I said as she carried some dishes to the sink. "I can manage."

"It's okay, I don't mind. Beside, I'm sucking up so you give me that cobbler recipe. It was pretty damn tasty."

"You don't have to suck up for that," I said, smiling. "You can have the recipe. It's not a big family secret or anything. Here, let me." As I took the dishes our fingers touched and I gasped.

The accompanying mental blast had taken me by surprise in more ways than one: Frannie's mind wasn't human any more; it was tangled and snarly.

She caught the dishes I'd almost dropped and smirked at me. "I wondered when you'd notice. Quinn reckoned you'd be able to tell straight away."

"We touched," I stammered, too shocked to say anything else. "I couldn't block it."

She tilted her head to the side, eyes widening. "If you touch someone, you just hear them?"

"Yes." Except for vamps, but I wasn't stupid enough to bring that up with Quinn's sister. I took the plates off of her and scraped them briskly into the sink.

"What about when you're with a guy and you're…? Ugh. That must be awful."

I raised an eyebrow at her as I flicked on the waste disposer.

She shrugged and pulled a face. "Some of the guys I've been with, the stuff that came out of their mouths was sleazy enough, ya know? Wouldn't want to know what they were thinking too."

She went back to clearing the table and I waited until she'd ferried the last of the dishes to the kitchen before I asked tentatively, "So, you got bit?"

"Not exactly." She leaned back on the counter, worrying at her lip while I rinsed out a dish out and fitted it into the dishwasher. Glancing at the door, she said quietly, "I'm not supposed to say, but Quinn said you can read twoeys pretty good so I figure what the hell… Timas's people are different, biting doesn't pass it on and it's not hereditary in the same way either. Puberty doesn't trigger it, they have to go through this … ceremony."

"A ceremony?"

"Yeah. Coming of age thing, like a baptism I guess. With blood." She wrinkled her nose. "New Mexico's blood."

I was amazed. "Drinking his blood can…?"

"Yeah. There's more to it than just guzzling it down, but yeah. Without it, they stay human. It's not just first-born either. Any of them can go through, as long as they make the cut. New Mexico's pretty choosy. And, well … that's what I did." She stuck her chin out defiantly.

She relaxed when I whistled softly. Tezcatlipoca sure wasn't your run-of-the-mill vamp (and there was a phrase I'd never thought I'd have occasion to use). As I shut the dishwasher and reached for the coffee, a mess of questions filled my head, clamouring to be answered. Why did the jaguars need New Mexico's blood? If he died, would the pack just fizzle out, cease to exist? How could it be his blood and not genetic like it was for other weres? It made no sense. As I scooped coffee into the machine and then switched it on, I wondered if Frannie would be a half-creature when she shifted like Jason was. Neither fish nor fowl, with all that entailed.

"Is it like being bitten, will you...?" I waved a hand, searching for a diplomatic phrase and failing to find one. Frannie seemed to understand what I meant though.

"It doesn't always take with outsiders, but I've got some supe in me already so…" She smiled shyly. "It could go all the way, a full shift. That's what Camargo reckons. Maybe I'll be a jaguar, or my genes will out and I'll be a tiger. No-one knows for sure. You can't tell, can you?" Her eyes were pleading.

"No," I said softly, sorry to disappoint her. "I can tell you're a twoey, but that's about it." I couldn't even detect a difference between regular twoeys and New Mexico's jaguars, who were clearly a breed apart.

It all raised some perplexing questions about how the magic of shapeshifting worked, but I put those aside as Frannie said, "Guess I'll just have to wait for the next full moon."

She was both excited and nervous about that. I just hoped she'd get more than the grudging acceptance Jason got from some of the Hotshot panthers. Reminded of what Fenton had done to my brother, I asked more sharply than I intended, "Did Timas pressure you into this?"

She shook her head. "Timas might be… well, Timas, but he's not like that. He's a good guy. I've been enough of the other kind to know, believe me."

I did. The angry girl I'd met at Rhodes was just the type to make a string of bad choices, but Frannie had changed since then, grown up. And Timas might be sulky and temperamental, and far too paternalistic for my tastes, but he was no worse than Jason, not really. Plus I wasn't the one married to him. Still...

Maybe it was none of my business, hell, it probably was none of my business, but I felt protective of Frannie, thrust into a world she was only half-aware of, and I couldn't leave it at that. "Camargo is a pretty forceful guy," I said, watching her face. "I imagine he's real pleased you did this."

She straightened up, frowning at me. "It's an honour to be asked, Sookie. They hardly ever offer this to outsiders. I could've turned it down, but why would I? To be honest, I've always felt shut out because mom and John have that in common, you know? And la familia has been good to me, real good."

Her mind matched her words and I softened. "Timas is good with your mom," I said, as a peace offering.

"Yeah. Yeah, he is," she said wistfully. "He acts like the man rules the roost, but you should see him with his own mom. He dotes on her. I guess that's why he just accepted ours, you know? Even with … how ill she was at first. He really hates it when mom and me fight too. Not that he doesn't fight with Camargo all the damn time." She rolled her eyes, laughed, and then sobered. "They accept me, Sookie. They're the family I never had. It was always just the three of us, and either mom was ill or Quinn was on the other side of the country."

"Family's important," I agreed, thinking of Jason, all I had left of mine.

"Yeah," she said softly, biting her lip again, suddenly unsure. After a pause to weigh up whatever she was considering, she said cautiously, "You know, Camargo quite likes you. I think, if you wanted … if you ever came out to Nevada … maybe they'd ask you to join la familia too." I must've looked as stunned as I felt, because she laughed nervously. "Well, if New Mexico agrees to it. He has final say. It was just an idea."

An idea that made me wonder why she'd raised it. "Frannie," I said slowly, "has Quinn got plans to move out to New Mexico that I don't know about?"

"Oh, no!" she said hurriedly. "No, he hasn't said anything like that. But he'll have to retire eventually, won't he? I mean, he's not getting any younger, and it's a physical job, and I figured— Just forget I said anything. It was a silly idea."

There was at least one other reason she might have brought it up. "This ceremony," I said carefully, "if you and Timas have kids, will it…?"

"Yeah," she admitted quietly, not meeting my eyes all of a sudden. "Our kids would be la familia, guaranteed."

"I see." I figured she'd had less choice than she made out about the whole thing, and I worried what her bringing it up meant for Quinn and me. We'd never had the talk about kids. He already had a son who'd grow up to be a weretiger and he knew things in that department hadn't worked out for me and Sam, so I'd reckoned us not being able to have twoey kids wasn't a deal-breaker. Now I wondered if it was, and Frannie was trying to offer me a solution.

Some of that must've shown on my face, or Quinn had told Frannie enough that she guessed what I was thinking.

"Oh shit. Look, that's not..." She shook her head violently. "It won't work the same for you, Sookie. You don't have twoey genes. I was just... I just meant that if you came to Nevada, la familia would welcome you."

"Oh. Well, that's nice to know," I said, with some relief. Although I doubted I'd be testing that welcome out any time soon.

Frannie smiled tentatively at me. "We'd welcome you, too. Me and mom, I mean. I know she's still being … a bit prickly, but she's just being protective. John hasn't had it easy and she still blames herself for that."

"I appreciate you saying that, Frannie." I looked towards the den and sighed. "Quinn had a word with her, didn't he? About me."

She grinned. "Read her the riot act in the car, told her to behave. You were pretty nervous, huh?"

"Little bit," I said, chuckling quietly as I grabbed a tray and reached for the full coffee jug. I was inordinately pleased that Quinn had laid down the law for me; I'd spent three years longing for Sam to do that with Bernie. As I got out the milk and sugar I asked, "You seem okay with us being together, Frannie. There was a time you weren't."

"Yeah, well. I was a stupid kid back them. John's way happier than he's been these last few years and that's all I care about. Plus you're not mixed up with any vamps now, right?"

"Nope," I said with more confidence than I felt, thinking guiltily of Bardulf.

Later, as we stood on the porch watching their car pull away, I asked Quinn if he approved of what Frannie had done. He waved one last time at the retreating headlights before he said, "It's better for her to be one of them. Has advantages."

He had doubts, I could tell, but he meant that. "What advantages?" I asked quietly as we stepped back inside.

"It gives her New Mexico's protection. And Mama, too. He can't threaten them to get to me ever again," he said, scowling as he remembered Camargo doing exactly that.

"But it puts her in his power too," I guessed, "and you don't trust him."

He shrugged. "Most packs, they work for vamps, but they can walk away any time. La familia is his. If New Mexico says jump, they ask how high."

He thought it was unnatural, that devotion, and it made him uneasy. I wondered, again, why Frannie had painted such a rosy picture of life in New Mexico. Perhaps Bardulf wasn't the only king who fancied having a telepath in his retinue. No doubt New Mexico would be pleased to have me under his thumb, now I knew how he was created. His history might reveal some weakness to those better versed in the supernatural than I was, and I was sure he, just like regular vampires, wouldn't want his weaknesses broadcast to all and sundry.

…

I didn't know what to make of Mama Quinn's friends. Wanda and Sherry sounded like a double act, but the two women who'd flown in from New York State were chalk and cheese, as different as their luggage.

Sherry's battered case threatened to burst open any second, a faded leather strap holding it shut. As Quinn lifted it into the trunk of his car with a grunt, she fluttered anxiously behind him, the bangles on her wrist tinkling. She was so thin a stiff breeze could knock her off her wedge heels and the deep auburn of her hair had to have come out of a bottle. She was the wrong side of fifty, judging by the lines around her eyes. Diantha would approve of her outfit though: her skirt was tie-dyed more colours than the rainbow. I rather admired her coat myself, a long velvet affair in a deep aubergine that didn't do anything for her colouring.

In contrast, Wanda's luggage was matching and brand-spanking new, as put-together as its owner and as conservative as her slacks and cashmere sweater. She apparently favoured dark, plain clothes, her chunky turquoise necklace the sole splash of colour. Her short hair was unashamedly grey, she was wearing comfortable flat shoes, and she was not about blow away unless a hurricane blew into town. She also had a husband she'd left back home, whereas Sherry was a three-time divorcee.

As Quinn fitted the last case into the trunk, Wanda said, "Now, Sherry, don't get in the man's way." Grasping the empty trolley by the handle she said to me, "Honey, show me where to return this, would you?"

"Sure thing, Wanda. It's just inside." She's already told me not to call her ma'am. Her directness reminded me of Christine, a lady I'd met at a funeral with Alcide, and I was starting to like her. Once the trolley was safely chained with its fellows, Wanda stepped closer and lowered her voice. "I know what you can do," she said.

Did she now.

"And I know what you are," I replied evenly. Wanda and Sherry were a werewolf and werefox respectively, according to Quinn.

She nodded, as if we'd just said how-de-do like normal folk. "Now, don't spare my feelings girl. Tell me the truth. How is Quinn's mom really doing?"

"Excuse me?"

"I figured you'd know what's going on in that poor woman's head better than anyone." She pursed her lips, clearly worried about her friend's mental state. Or perhaps her own safety, but I was sensing more concern than fear from her mind.

"What I can do," I said cautiously, "doesn't quite work like that, Wanda."

"That's a pity." She sighed. "From the way Frannie talks you'd think she was cured, but I don't believe that for a moment. Trudi had such a tough time after what happened, I never expected she'd survive it. The guilt over what Quinn had to do on top of it all... That almost finished her off."

Hoping to give her some comfort, I said, "Well, we only met the once before, but she does seem better than she did then. Calmer."

"Calm enough that this party won't end in disaster?" she asked succinctly. "If she has one of her episodes..."

"Timas has a way with her," I said, with perhaps more confidence than I had a right to. "He'll be able to calm her if something sets her off. Quinn visited with her at Christmas and he was real pleased with the progress she's making."

"You call him Quinn?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

I shrugged. "That's how he was introduced to me and it stuck."

"Hm. It does suit him." She turned and set off towards the doors so fast I had to rush to keep up. "He probably prefers it. John was his father's name."

I had a mind to ask what she meant, but before I could we were outside and Quinn was holding the car door open impatiently.

Quinn had never mentioned his father, not once, and he rarely thought of the man. The subject was obviously a painful one, so I steered clear of it. Wanda, however, was old enough to have been around when Quinn was born and her comment made me curious. Maybe I'd ask her about it later, if I had a moment with her when Quinn wasn't around.

We drove Sherry and Wanda to the house Frannie had rented. Trudi was stunned to see them. We stayed for a late brunch and Trudi was stiff at first, hesitant even, as if her social graces had gotten rusty, which maybe they had, all the years she spent in Whispering Palms with only nurses and patients for company. But the more they talked, Sherry spilling the beans on old friends and what they were up to now, Wanda butting in now and again to correct her, rolling her eyes at Sherry's dramatics, the less fractured Trudi seemed.

It was an odd thing to witness, as if she was knitting herself back together because her old friends reminded her of the woman she'd been. Soon the three of them were so easy with each other it was as if it had only been a day since they'd parted. Tell the truth, it made my heart ache for Tara and what I'd lost there.

The re-made Trudi was fragile though, and I hoped she could hold it together for the party tomorrow. More folks were flying in the morning: a second cousin or two, a few work colleagues she'd gotten to know back when she was well enough to work, a couple of newer friends from New Mexico, a few of Timas's family. Some of Quinn's friends were coming too, local folks. We were expecting about fifty guests all told.

That afternoon Frannie took Trudi and her friends to a salon, so Quinn and I had chance to set everything up. Timas was going with them, since he had a way with Trudi. Then we were meeting back at Quinn's that evening for the big reveal. Frannie wanted her mom to have a night to get used to the idea, springing a party on her at the last minute was too big a risk.

So Quinn and I had about four or five hours to get the barn decorated.

Barn did not do the place justice; it was a lovely venue with a wooden floor and whitewashed walls, the open-beamed ceiling the only barn-like thing about it. One of Linden's pack, a woman who ran a florists, was carrying in buckets of flowers when we arrived. Apart from her, it was just us. Dylan was meant to be here but he couldn't get away from Special Events, something about a double-booking that had to be fixed. Getting everything ready was going to be tight.

…

Perched on top of a step-ladder I stretched as far as I could, but the banner I was hanging missed the hook I was aiming for by a hair and the step-ladder wobbled dramatically. I clutched at it, afraid it would tip, but it stilled suddenly and a deep, accented voice said from below, "I have eet."

I looked down. A handsome copper-brown face looked back at me. "Camargo," I said, surprise taking my manners. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."

"Si, we came early." He nodded up at me. "Hang the banner, Mees Stackhouse. I have you."

"Thank you," I said gratefully, reaching for the hook again with more confidence. Once I'd got the banner hung I hopped down, Camargo stepping neatly out of the way.

"My wife, Adelita and my daughter, Maria," he introduced and I exchanged hellos with the women behind him. Adelita was the shorter of the two, her waist thickened by motherhood and her face lined by laughter, but her hair was dark and she was still a handsome woman. Impeccably but comfortably dressed, too. Maria was tall and willowy. She was wearing jeans, a bright top, heels and more make-up than she needed in my opinion.

"Where is Quinn?" Camargo said, cutting to the chase somewhat rudely.

"Out the back," I said, gesturing to towards the kitchen. The phone signal was better out there. There was some last minute mix-up with the band and Quinn had stepped out to deal with it. Camargo nodded and left me with two women I hadn't known were coming, wondering how in the hell I was going to look after them when I had so much to do.

…

Maria and Adelita were a godsend. They didn't hesitate to roll up their sleeves and pitch in, and I would never have gotten everything done without their help. Especially as Quinn spent quite a while outside after that call, deep in discussion with Camargo, one of his older sons and the six other guys he'd brought just as unexpectedly as his womenfolk. Why men felt a need to stand around shooting the breeze before they lifted a single finger, I'd never understand. We womenfolk just saw what needed doing and got on with it.

Which was why we had time to take a break now. We were in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating the snacks Adelita had thought to bring. Tamal de dulce she called them, sweet tamales filled with raisins and wrapped in corn husks that she'd reheated carefully in the microwave. She'd taken a big plateful out to the men first, to thank them for their help. Maria had marched out there earlier and commandeered some of Camargo's guys when we needed furniture moving. Not that their eagerness was motivated by food, I think that had more to do with the sway of Maria's hips. She was single and she knew how to work every advantage God had given her.

"These are delicious," I said around a mouthful, and I wasn't just being polite. Adelita waved the compliment away, explaining that tamales were much better freshly cooked. "So," I said, swallowing, "what brought y'all here early?"

Adelita and her daughter exchanged a look. "Camargo is sending a message," Adelita said. "To Tennessee."

Maria noticed my reaction to that name and grimaced. "You know how it goes," she said, "always the posturing."

Adelita rattled off something sharp in Spanish that had Maria's face darkening, and soon they were exchanging heated words. I hid a smile, amused. They'd been squabbling on and off all afternoon, but there was no malice behind it and I'd finally realised it was just their way. Once Maria had thrown her hands up and admitted defeat, Adelita carried on as if nothing had happened, "Si, Sookie. Camargo thought it best to come in force after last week."

"Last week?" I asked, puzzled.

"You didn't hear?" Maria said, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling. "Nevada is under new management."

"Oh," I said softly, remembering Niall's phone call and putting two and two together to make six. I had a real good idea who'd acted on Niall's behalf against Felipe: New Mexico. "I guess congratulations are in order."

"El Viento's victory is our victory." Adelita smiled as she sipped her coffee, eyes on me. "He sends his regards."

"He does?" I murmured, suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't know why."

Adelita tutted disapprovingly. "Do not pretend not to know. You are a strong woman, Sookie, and that attracts attention. Camargo much admired the way you handled Quinn in Louisville."

"She means Papi likes you," Maria said, grinning. "Women should know how to handle their men."

"Especially in our family," Adelita said, with a twinkle in her eye. They both cackled as if that was a frequent joke. "This is why I approve of Frannie, you know. She stands up to Timas."

Maria snorted. "She needs to because you spoilt him, mom. He's such a brat."

Her comment kicked off another noisy squabble, one that conjured up a memory of Gran and Aunt Linda having a set-to over stuffing recipes one Thanksgiving when I was small, and letting their voices wash over me, I imagined for a moment that I belonged to this warm, noisy family of theirs, a bigger family than I'd ever known, and indulged in a pleasant daydream of cooking with female relatives, loud squabbles that were soon forgiven, teasing and laughter over shared jokes.

When I came back to reality, Jason, Michelle, my niece and nephew – all the family I had – seemed a million miles away. Lord, I missed them.

...

AN: The books are vague on Quinn's family background, so I've creatively filled in some details. I've given Mama Quinn a first name and also aged her up (as Quinn is 15 yrs older than Frannie, who seems to be late teens/twenty in FDtW); and Frannie is described as having a 'North-East' accent, so I've gone with New York State as the place Frannie and Quinn were raised, with the attack on their mom happening in Colorado on a camping trip of some sort.