Read Magdalene for Free Online Page A

I’ve been watching this woman work and I’ll go so far as to
say she’s better at being me than I am.”
    “She’s certainly faster at it,” Eilis said,
staring at Sebastian speculatively, “but she’s rough on the ego.
She doesn’t do the same soft-shoe routine Sebastian does.”
    “So, what, she cuts about a year off your
process?”
    Sebastian nodded. “’Bout that, maybe a
little more. I figure it’s probably what I should have done all
along, but...”
    “It’s your inner nurturer, Midas,” Eilis
teased with a nudge that garnered her a pleased grin.
    “She’s, what, twenty-four, twenty-five?”
Bryce asked. “And she’s the phoenix rising out of the ashes of
Sebastian Taight’s sudden career change from corporate raider to
full-time artist and stay-at-home dad?”
    “Not that young, but otherwise, yes.”
    Knox glanced at his watch. “Late. Dammit, I
hate late.”
    Mitch glared at Sebastian. “Me too. Why
hasn’t she called? Why hasn’t Jack called?”
    “He’s afraid of offending you,” Sebastian
shot back. “He can’t tell when you’re being funny.”
    Knox laughed then. “Shit, nobody else can,
either.”
    “Jack annoys me,” Mitch groused.
    “Jack annoys everyone,” Eilis offered. “Even
his wife.”
    The eight of them settled in to wait, and
Mitch relaxed as they began to indulge their favorite pastime while
together: Poking fun at each other.
    “So, Bishop Hollander,” Ashworth boomed.
Morgan Ashworth never said anything. “How’s the wife hunt
going?”
    “I could ask the same of you,” Mitch shot
back with a smirk, not in the least offended, and the snickers and
laughter around the table rose, Morgan’s guffaw outstripping the
rest. “You have anything to confess yet, Elder Ashworth?”
    He held up his hands in truce. “Not me,
Bishop. I’m pure as the wind-driven snow.”
    “My ass,” Giselle Kenard returned. “I saw
the way you checked out that carpenter as we came in.”
    “Looking is not the same as doing, dear Cuz.
Tell her, Mitch.”
    “True. But did you lust after him in your
heart, Elder?”
    Morgan snorted. “I’m not confessing to
anything.” He pointed at Giselle. “And you have no room to
talk, O Freshly Excommunicated One.”
    “Pffftt. Shall I tell our bishop about your Playgirl stash?”
    “You mean the one that doesn’t exist?”
    “Ha! I caught you.”
    “Twenty years ago, at which time you decided
you wanted to share in the eye candy. All afternoon. I was not
amused.”
    The table erupted in laughter. “I can’t
believe you’re still mad about that,” she grumbled underneath the
noise.
    “I might not be if you hadn’t stolen them.”
    She sank down into her chair and bit her
lip. “I still have them if you want them back. They’re kind of,
um...dog-eared, shall I say.” Bryce stopped laughing and looked at
her, one eyebrow raised. “Well,” she said defensively when she
caught her husband’s look. “It’s not like I need them anymore. You
know, ’cause you— Believe me, I don’t need— You, you’re—”
    “Giselle,” Bryce growled, though Knox and
Justice, Sebastian and Eilis, were all coughing and choking on
their laughter.
    “They’re at Mom’s, okay? In storage. And
they have been for years. I moved on from pictures to words and—”
She shot up in her chair and stuck her finger in Bryce’s face.
“— You don’t seem to mind my library. You’ve practically got Tropic of Cancer memorized and you’ve done—”
    Bryce clapped a hand over her mouth. “Okay.
Got the point.” He looked at Morgan. “You want those back?”
    “No.” Morgan glared at Giselle. “I should’ve
drowned you when you were a kitten.” Then he took a deep breath and
looked back at Mitch, who simply rolled his eyes at the family’s
ribaldry. “Speaking of bishops,” he said smoothly once the hilarity
had died down. “Why haven’t they fired you yet?”
    “I wish they would,” Mitch said. “ You try going into year