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I picked up a piece of Hawaiian-style pizza, took a huge bite, and chewed as I watched all the activity around me. The U-Haul full of Code’s things had been unloaded a hell of a lot faster than I thought was possible without actual movers doing the job. I meandered into the house and watched where Amber, Lachlan, Tyler and three other children, whose names I didn’t remember, were busy unwrapping dishes and putting them on the tile countertop.

“Move it or lose it,” Jase said from behind.

I stepped out of the way as Jase walked into the house with an armchair over his head. He deposited it into the living room. It was actually very nice. To tell the truth, I’d liked everything of Code’s that they’d pulled out of the U-Haul. Except maybe his music selection. I applauded the man for having a turntable, just not having actual Weird Al Yankovich records.

I think so far, that had been the most surprising thing I had learned about him. I finished up my pizza and wiped my hands off with the paper towel I’d snagged, then went in search of the cheapskate, who refused to hire movers and instead paid his family in pizza, beer, and soft drinks.

“My God, this is clean, Son.”

I should have figured he’d be in the garage mooning over his Barracuda. He had the hood open and his dad and uncle were currently bent over, looking inside. According to Code, his dad knew nothing about cars, so it was kind of funny hearing the Ambassador talking about how clean it was.

"It's a 1970 Plymouth Barracuda," Code said, his voice carrying that particular tone men get when discussing vehicles they're irrationally attached to. "340 cubic inch V8, four-barrel carburetor."

"I have no idea what any of that means," Petros said cheerfully, "but it sounds impressive."

His brother Christos, Jase’s father, laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "You’re the same as always, Petros. But at least you're trying."

"Kit!" Code's mother appeared in the doorway leading from the house to the garage, looking like she'd stepped out of a Southern Living magazine despite spending the last three hours helping unpack. "There you are. I need your opinion on something."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Alice linked her arm through mine with practiced ease. "The boys are completely useless when it comes to arranging furniture, and I refuse to let Codell live in a bachelor cave now that he has a proper home."

I let her pull me back into the house, glancing over my shoulder to see Code watching us with an expression somewhere between amusement and alarm.

This was my second time meeting his mom, the first time was when Code and I had gone down and visited his parents in Charleston two months ago. I thought a former ambassador and his wife would intimidate me, but they had immediately put me at ease, especially when Alice got out Code’s baby book and high school yearbooks.

"Your son has very nice furniture," I offered.

"Oh, I know. I helped him pick most of it out years ago." She guided me into the living room where Jase's armchair sat in the middle of the floor, looking lost. "But he never put any of it together properly. It all just sat in storage in Augusta while he lived on base like some kind of monk."

"Mother." Code had followed us, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Don't 'Mother' me, Codell Drakos. You had a beautiful set of furniture sitting in a storage unit for three years." She turned to me. "Can you imagine? I found out when I asked where he wanted us to ship things."

"I was deployed half that time."

"And the other half you could have rented a house." She patted his cheek. "But that's done now. You have a real home. In a town with actual neighbors and a downtown and everything."

I caught the look Code gave his mother—affection mixed with exasperation mixed with something softer. This was clearly an old argument, but Code didn’t mind, it was clear to see how much he loved his mom.

"The couch should go against that wall," I said, pointing. "It'll face the fireplace but still let you see the kitchen. And that armchair Jase brought in angles toward the TV."

Alice beamed. "Perfect. See, Codell? Kit has an eye for these things."

"Katherine's an actress. She spends half her life on sets. Of course, she knows how rooms should look."

"And you spent twenty years living in places that all looked exactly the same." Alice squeezed my arm. "I'm so glad he has you, dear. Someone needs to make sure he remembers what civilization looks like."

"Mom—"

"Oh hush. Go supervise your cousins before they break something." She waved him away. "Kit and I have work to do."

Code met my eyes, and I saw the silent apology there. I just grinned. His mother was terrifying in the best possible way.

"I like her," I said once we'd retreated to the den.