“Do you boys prefer olives or cocktail onions?” Richard asked. “Darling, there are no cocktail onions!” he said, that damned eyebrow raised up...high enough to make it look like a question mark. She smiled sweetly and moved lightly and quickly back to the kitchen, returning in moments with a small silver dish of cocktail onions. Richard beamed at her from his favorite wing backed leather chair. It was four inches taller than any other chair in the room, and he invariably sat in it when they had. Not that that's a bad thing. That's not... I'm rambling. I'm very sorry. Please, come in and sit down."Rachael simply smiled at me as I stumbled over myself. She obviously had this reaction from a lot of guys so she knew how to deal with it. She walked in, looked around and sat down in one of the lounge chairs."I'm also sorry that we never had a chance to meet before this. My name isn't really Aunt Rachael, it's Rachael Willows, and I don't know what you were expecting so I hope that we can. More

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