The band had barely started the next number before the spectacle occurred. Back by the receiving line, a voice called out, “Just as I thought, another boring family event.”
The voice belonged to a young man in a fleece lined leather jacket. He pulled of a pair of gloves before handing them and a pair of goggles to the butler at the doorway. His hair was windblown and tangled. Sam guessed his age to be late twenties. His face bore more resemblance to the pictures of Alexander Braker rather than Mildred, as opposed to Jonathon. He smiled at the crowd, snatching a glass of champagne from a passing servant.
“Seeing as how I’ve missed all of you due to my tardiness, I’ll take this moment to wish you all a swell time at this, ahem, party. Brother, to your health.”
Several guests rose their glasses to the impromptu toast.
“Another relation?” asked Sam.
“Randal Braker, the youngest of the sons. He shows up at a club and you know that there are going to be some good tips following along behind.”
“Does he do anything with the company?”