“Let me just finish this tube, Carlo, and I’ll go pack.” She turned her head, her dark Italian eyes laughing. “Dinner in thirty minutes.”

“I’ll open the wine.”

“Don’t we have anything to eat now?” Seth wanted to know.

“There’s antipasto in the fridge,” she told him. “Go ahead and get it out.”

“It’s just vegetables and junk,” Seth complained when he pulled out the platter.

“Yep.”

“Jeez.”

“Wash the dog off your hands before you start on that.”

“Dog spit’s cleaner than people spit,” Seth informed her. “I read how if you get bit by another guy it’s worse than getting bit by a dog.”

“I’m thrilled to have that fascinating tidbit of information. Wash the dog spit off your hands anyway.”

“Man.” Disgusted, Seth clomped out, with Foolish slinking after him.

Phillip chose the wine from the small supply he kept in the pantry. Fine wines were one of his passions, and his palate was extremely discriminating. His apartment in Baltimore boasted an extensive and carefully chosen selection, which he kept in a closet he’d remodeled specifically for that purpose.

At the Shore, his beloved bottles of Bordeaux and Burgundy kept company with Rice Krispies and boxes of Jell-O Instant Pudding.

He’d learned to live with it.

“So how was your week?” he asked Anna.

“Busy. Whoever said women can have everything should be shot. Handling a career and a family is grueling.” Then she looked up with a brilliant smile. “I’m loving it.”

“It shows.” He drew the cork expertly, sniffed it and approved, then set the bottle on the counter to breathe. “Where’s Cam?”

“Should be on his way home from the boatyard. He and Ethan wanted to put in an extra hour. The first Boat by Quinn is finished. The owner’s coming in tomorrow. It’s finished, Phillip.” Her smile flashed, brilliant and glowing with pride. “At dock, seaworthy and just gorgeous.”

He felt a little tug of disappointment that he hadn’t been in on the last day. “We should be having champagne.”

Anna lifted a brow as she studied the label on the wine. “A bottle of Folonari, Ruffino?”

He considered one of Anna’s finest traits to be her appreciation for good wine. “Seventy-five,” he said with a broad grin.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me. Congratulations, Mr. Quinn, on your first boat.”

“It’s not my deal. I just handle the details and pass for slave labor.”

“Of course it’s your deal. Details are necessary, and neither Cam nor Ethan could handle them with the finesse you do.”

“I think the word they use, is ‘nagging.” ’

“They need to be nagged. You should be proud of what the three of you have accomplished in the last few months. Not just the new business, but the family. Each one of you has given up something that’s important to you for Seth. And each one of you has gotten something important back.”

“I never expected the kid to matter so much.” While Anna smothered the filled tubes with sauce, Phillip opened a cupboard for wineglasses. “I still have moments when the whole thing pisses me off.”