Читать книгу Meant-to-Be Mum - Karen Templeton - Страница 8
ОглавлениеHer underwear dumped into the top drawer of her old dresser, Sabrina shoved it closed and sighed, missing Mom—who would have been right there with her, if not tucking things into drawers and hanging up stuff in the closet, at least sitting on the foot of the bed, listening, eyes soft with sympathy or bright with anger. Honestly—Sabrina zipped up the empty case and rammed it underneath the twin bed—more and more, her life felt like some artsy foreign film where bizarre crap kept happening but you had no idea why. And a happy ending was not a given. Chad used to drag her to those. And she’d go and pretend to enjoy them for his sake, but mostly she was just Huh?
Take the past twenty-four hours, for instance. As if having her future ripped from her in the space of a single conversation wasn’t bad enough, then to run into Cole Rayburn, of all people. After which they’d had this perfectly normal, totally weird conversation, as though nothing had happened.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. There’d definitely been some heavy-duty skirting of the truth going on. Some people might call that civilized and mature. Because it was ancient history and all that. Except...this was Cole and her.
For whatever that was worth.
Which would be not a whole lot, Sabrina thought, starting downstairs. Dude obviously had his hands full. And, yes, that was her heart squeezing inside her chest, especially when she thought about his kids...
She released another breath. Only so much multitasking her poor brain could handle right now.
Through the open patio door, the scent of charbroiled meat floated in from the deck where Pop was grilling. Stalling, she got a diet soda out of the French-door fridge in the recently remodeled kitchen, all stainless steel and sparkly white quartz and cherrywood cabinets. Very pretty. Still, she missed the homeyness of the old seventies decor, the knotty pine and faux brick, the old gouged table where they’d eaten, done homework, spilled their guts to Mom. Even the kids who’d only been passing through.
The family room, however, she thought, popping the can’s tab as she peeked in the room, still bore the scars of having been a family room in every sense of the word. Probably one reason why the house was still on the market. The kitchen showed well, sure, but the rest of the house...not so much. Especially to buyers with no desire to take on a fixer-upper, even if most of the work was cosmetic. True, Pop had impulsively donated Mom’s vast, and eclectic, book collection to the library some months before. But since he hadn’t moved any further in that direction, Sabrina could only assume—since they’d never discussed it—that the action had paralyzed him instead of propelling him forward.
She tilted the can to her lips, remembering the beehive of activity this house had once been, of noisy meals and fights for the bathroom and never-ending chore lists, usually overseen by the man currently grilling their dinner. Now only an eerie stillness remained, a thousand memories whispering like ghosts every time Sabrina returned. For all she’d chomped at the bit to escape more than a decade before, seeing it this way—like a dying person halfway between this world and the next—made her very sad.
Sadder, anyway.
The can clutched to her chest, she finally went outside, smiling for her father.
“Smells great.”
Standing at the grill, Pop glanced over, then said, “All unpacked?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Good,” he said, not looking at her, and her eyes filled. Because all she wanted, she realized, was a hug.
Dumb.
She’d wondered sometimes, how, with their polar opposite natures, her parents had ever gotten together. Let alone enjoyed the kind of marriage that textbooks could point to and say, This. Mom had been the one who’d wrap Sabrina in her warm embrace, doing all the talking for both of them during those first few weeks after she and Matt had arrived and Sabrina wouldn’t, or couldn’t, find her words. The Colonel, however, hadn’t seemed to know what to do with the frightened little girl clinging to her grief like a tattered teddy bear. Oh, Sabrina eventually figured out that, despite his more reserved nature, Pop cared fiercely about every child in his care, that fostering had been his idea. There was no better man on earth. But sometimes Sabrina felt as if their initial interaction—or lack of one—had set the tone for their entire relationship.
That even after all these years, she still had no idea how to close the gap between them.
“Got some vegetable kebabs from the store to go with the burgers,” he said. “That okay?”
“Sure.”
Fragrant smoke billowed out when he lifted the lid to the grill, frowning again in her direction. “Sorry to spring Cole and the kids on you like that. If I’d known you were coming—”
“No, it’s okay. I should’ve warned you.”
Pop had known, of course, that things had fallen apart between her and Cole their senior year. Just not why. God willing, he never would.
“Always did like that boy,” Pop now said, flipping the burgers. “Missed him hanging around.”
“So you ran into him and invited him over.”
Shooting her another curious look, Pop closed the lid to the grill again. “For more than five years that kid was over here more than he was at his own house. Seemed like it, anyway. Invitation was out of my mouth before I even knew it was there.” He crossed his arms. “Couple of smart kids he’s got there.”
“So Cole said,” Sabrina said, walking to the edge of the deck jutting out into the large yard off the porch. Shards of dying, early evening sun sliced through the pine trees on one side of the yard, gilding the new grass and her mother’s prodigiously blooming rosebushes. A robin darted, stopped, darted again across the lawn, ignoring the chattering of an unseen squirrel nearby. Images flashed, of badminton and croquet games, of running through the sprinklers. That old Slip ’N Slide. Fireflies. Of lying in the grass on summer evenings, her and Cole and Kelly...
“You gonna go see the baby tonight?”
Releasing a breath, Sabrina turned, bracing her hands on the deck railing behind her and refusing to feel sorry for herself, that Matt was married and her younger brother, Tyler, was going to be in a week, that even her oldest brother, Ethan, had found love again after losing his wife three years ago. That things seemed to be working out fine for everyone but her.
Not that she hadn’t tried—
Okay, maybe that not-feeling-sorry-for-herself thing wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped.
“Tomorrow, maybe. It’ll be too late after dinner. They’ll be wanting to get the little one down, I imagine.”
Her father shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “So you gonna tell me what happened, or are we playing twenty questions?”
Sabrina smirked. “Wondered when you were going to ask.”
“Didn’t want to push.”
She held up her left hand, naked except for the imprint of the ring that had been there only yesterday. “Not that you haven’t already figured it out.”
“It was his boy, wasn’t it?”
Her vision blurred, Sabrina nodded. Chad didn’t have his six-year-old son very often—his ex had moved to the West Coast for work, and Robbie went with her—meaning the child wanted Daddy to himself when he did see him. Not that Sabrina blamed him.
“I couldn’t stand seeing the kid so miserable, Pop.”
“So you broke it off.”
“It was a mutual decision.”
“And the child was six. He would have gotten over it.”
From anyone else, her father’s words might have sounded callous. Uncaring. Except Sabrina knew the remark came from a place of deep love for kids. All kids. Which only made it harder to hear.
“You think I gave up.”
She nearly choked when her father walked over, wrapped her in his arms. For maybe two seconds, but still. Holy crap.
He let her go to return to the grill, scraping burgers on to a nearby plate before giving her a hard stare. “I wasn’t there, I have no idea what went on between you. But I know you,” he said, jabbing the spatula in her direction. “I know how good you are with kids. How crazy they are about you. So whatever was going on...” He lowered the lid again. “Not your fault.”
“Yeah, well, you also never liked Chad.”
“Only because I never felt he was worthy of you.”
“What? You never said that—”
“Didn’t have to, did I?”
“Chad’s a good man, Pop. Jeez, give me some credit.” He slanted a look in her direction, and her face warmed. “My point is, this wasn’t about me and Chad, it was about me and his little boy—”
“And that was his father’s issue to address, not yours. And if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do that...” His eyes narrowed. “Did he even try to fix the problem?”
“To be honest...” Her mouth twisted. “He looked...relieved.”
He jabbed the spatula at her again. Point made. “Sounds to me like he’s the one who gave up. You also have no idea what the kid’s mother was putting in his head about you.”
Actually, considering some of the things the child had said to her, she had a pretty good idea. But no need to add fuel to that fire.
Pop’s gaze softened. Marginally. “All I want is for you to be happy. Trust me, wouldn’t have happened for you with that guy. Not in the long run. Because eventually you would have lost out to the kid. Which you obviously knew, or you wouldn’t have ended it. Right?”
You know, there was a reason she’d left home. And not only because small-town Jersey was suffocating her. That the man spoke the truth—yet again—was beside the point.
Pop plated the kebabs, setting both them and the burgers on the table. “So I take it you’re staying for a while?”
“A few weeks, maybe,” Sabrina said, sitting across from him and spearing the smallest burger. “Until I...get my bearings again. That okay?”
“Like you have to ask. As long as I still have the house, anyway.” He glanced over again. “No bun?”
“Carbs, Pop.”
Shaking his head, he took a bite of his own burger, his gaze drifting out to the yard. Sabrina could probably guess what he was thinking. Or rather, who he was thinking about. Not looking at Pop, she slowly pulled off a piece of pineapple from her skewer and asked, “You ever think about dating again?”
After a long moment, she looked up to meet his glare. Bingo.
“And what would be the point of that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How’s about going to a movie or out to dinner with someone not related to you? Might be fun. You should try it.”
One side of his mouth pulled up. Sort of. “This you not wanting to whine about your own problems?”
“You bet. So?”
Her father took another bite of his burger. “Seems like it’d be more trouble than it’s worth. Especially at my age.”
“So what’re you going to do with the next twenty or thirty years, Methuselah? Watch TV all day?”
“And maybe after all those years of taking care of everybody else, all I want to do is watch TV.”
“Not buying it. Sorry.”
“I’m good with things the way they are, thank you. Once I get out of this house...”
His voice once more trailing off, Pop glanced around, almost as if he didn’t recognize the place, before facing Sabrina again...and she saw in his eyes the depth of his loss in a way she never had before, prompting her to lean over to lay her hand on his wrist. Pushing out a sigh, Pop covered her hand with his own.
“You know, I lost track of how many times we moved, when I was on active duty. The number of places we lived. Far as I was concerned they were only places to sleep, way stations between assignments. But this...” He looked around again. “This was home. Where we raised all you kids. I know I don’t need it anymore. Have known for some time. And I plunked down my deposit on a one-bedroom unit at Sunridge last month—”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Nobody does. Didn’t want you all hounding me.”
“Pop. You decided to sell. Months ago—”
“And at the time, I thought I was good with that decision. And in here,” he said, tapping his head, “I still am.” Then he palmed his heart. “In here is another story.”
“Which is why, I assume, you’re dragging your heels about giving the place a face-lift.”
“Jeannie picked out every paint color, every stick of furniture in the place. What somebody does with it after I’m gone is none of my concern. But as long as I’m still here, it’s my home. And damned if I’m going to spend whatever time I have left in the house feeling like I’m in somebody else’s.”
“So why’d you redo the kitchen?”
He huffed a breath through his nose. “Because even I had to admit it was falling apart. Half the drawers didn’t even close anymore. And the old range was down to two functioning burners. So I caved, let some kitchen designer convince me that an upgrade would add value to the house.”
“I’m sure it did.”
“Except I hate it. Looks like a damn showroom. Or a commercial kitchen. Not like someplace a family wants to hang out. Frankly, I’d change it all back if I could. Except they tell me you can’t even get those green appliances anymore.”
“And thank God for that,” Sabrina said, and her father humphed. “Pop...you need to make a decision here. A real one, I mean, not this half-assed thing. Otherwise you’re wasting both the Realtor’s time and yours. If you don’t want to sell, then don’t. I mean it,” she said at her father’s startled look. “Take the place off the market, tell Sunridge you changed your mind—”
“And forfeit my deposit?”
“If it comes down to that, yes. For heaven’s sake—for once in your life, go with your gut, not only your head. If it doesn’t feel right to leave, don’t. It’s your house, your life. Your right to reverse course. But don’t move forward with something only to save face, or because that’s what everyone’s expecting—”
Her gaze lowered, her uneaten food a blur. She felt her father’s touch on her wrist, as gentle-rough as his words. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about me anymore?”
She jerked her hand away, even as she laughed. Hyenaesque though it may have been. Because she had seen the writing on the wall with Chad. Like neon-hued graffiti, actually. But in spite of the troubles with Robbie, she’d clung to the relationship for far longer than she should have. Because she was so, so tired of...
Of failing.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “You’re the one who can’t decide whether to sell his house or not.”
But after she’d retreated once more to the room that still bore the scars of her youth—a hundred tiny pushpin pricks from long-gone posters, a red stain on the windowsill where a candle had melted and overflowed—the cold, hard truth came right with her, that she’d fallen into the very trap she’d sworn to avoid.
Of letting desperation make a fool of her.
Exactly like she had with Cole, all those years ago.
She hurled her old teddy bear across the room, where it bounced off the closet door with a pathetic little squeak.
* * *
“So Sabrina’s back?” Cole’s sister said, stretching plastic wrap over the leftover salad.
Yeah, he wondered how long it’d take before she brought up that particular subject. Figuring it best to jump the gun before the kids said something at dinner, he’d casually mentioned she’d been at the Colonel’s.
“Yep,” Cole said, warring with himself about having a second piece of chocolate cake. With caramel filling. Sitting there on the counter, taunting him like some barely clad sex kitten in an X-rated dream. Squelching a sigh, he looked back at Diana, while in the family room beyond, her youngest and Cole’s two were watching some zombie flick, the expressions on their faces not a whole lot different than the characters on the screen. “Visiting, or something. Had no idea she was going to be there. Or she, us. What’re the odds, right?”
“How is she?” Diana asked stiffly, and Cole smiled, even as he silently cussed out his brother-in-law for abandoning him to the she-wolf that was his sister. Some flimsy excuse about a crisis at his restaurant.
“Down, sis. That was a long time ago.”
Her eyes cut to his, then away again when she turned to grab the cake cover and rattle it over the plate, hiding temptation. “Just asking.”
Even though she’d been married and a mother already when it became obvious Bree was no longer a part of Cole’s life—having been the center of it for so long—it was Diana who’d seen through his lousy attempt at stoicism and realized her baby brother was hurting. Never mind that he’d brought most of the pain on himself.
“We talked, Di. Watched the kids play with the Colonel. That’s pretty much it. Hey,” he said to the mother of all skeptical looks, “you remember that dude you dated your senior year? What was his name?”
Di frowned for a minute, then said, “You mean Stuart? Gosh—I haven’t thought of him in years.”
“But back then you two were pretty tight, as I recall.”
He couldn’t tell if Di was more shocked or amused. “You were seven, for pity’s sake. How would you...?”
“I might’ve heard Mom and Dad talking. Sounding worried.” He shrugged, enjoying his sister’s blush. “So tell me—if you were to run into Stuart now, would you still feel anything?”
“What? No! Why would I?” Cole lifted an eyebrow, and his sister sighed. “One word—Andy. Who wiped all thoughts of other guys out of my head the minute I met him. Also, Stuart didn’t break my heart.”
“Bree didn’t—”
“Cole. Please. Memory like a steel trap.”
“Then how come you’re not remembering that I broke it off?”
“Damage control doesn’t count. And besides...” Her gaze gentled. “Then there was Erin.”
She stopped there. Thank God. Although there would have been a time when she wouldn’t have.
“Look,” he said, “we ran into each other, we talked, she’ll go back to New York and I’m here. With my kids.” He glanced into the family room. “Speaking of damage control.”
His sister leaned over to kiss him on top of his head. Like he was five, for God’s sake. Then she looked into the family room, her mouth curved down at the corners.
“How are they doing?” She turned back to him. “And before you answer, I’ve survived three teenagers. My BS detector is top-of-the-line.”
“You tell me. Since you watched them like a hawk all during dinner.”
“This can’t be easy on them, leaving Philly, their friends...”
“They’re cool with it, you guys are three houses away and it’s only for the summer.”
“And then?”
“Haven’t gotten that far.”
“So you’re not going back to Philly.”
Not if I can help it, he thought, then smiled for his concerned sister. “Keeping our options open for now. Di—it’s been a week. Give us a second, okay? Although I am thinking—if we stay here—of putting them in Sedgefield.”
That got another disapproving look. “Public school was good enough for us, as I recall.”
“For some of us, maybe.”
His sister sucked in a short breath. “Sorry—”
Cole held up a hand, cutting her off, then refolded his arms over his chest. “Sedgefield’s a better fit for the kids than any of the middle schools here, I checked. And I can afford it.” Which his parents hadn’t been able to, not on their professors’ salaries. For years, Cole had wondered how different things might have been, if he’d gone there. Although of course now he knew bullying could happen anywhere. And if he had, he wouldn’t have met Sabrina...
Thereby saving himself a whole boatload of heartache.
“And they were already in private school in Philly, anyway,” he said, seeing a mind-numbing, body-exhausting workout in his near future. Because if he dreamed about Sabrina tonight, he was a dead man. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said when Brooke slogged into the kitchen and collapsed into his arms. He’d never thought of himself as the kind of daddy to actually have a daddy’s girl, but what did he know? “Movie over?”
She shook her head. “But my eyeballs were about to fall out of my head, it was so disgusting. Why do boys like stuff like that?”
Diana chuckled. “A question I’ve been asking myself for years. Want another piece of cake?”
“Di—”
“Have you looked at your daughter recently? I swear she’s grown two inches in the week since you guys got here. Kid needs fuel.”
“And I did eat two helpings of veggies,” Brooke said, all big green eyes. “And a salad—”
“Okay, okay,” Cole said, laughing in spite of himself. And honestly, it wasn’t as if either of his two showed the slightest indication of having the same weight issues that had plagued Cole for so long—equating food with comfort, as some sort of compensation for whatever he’d believed was missing from his life. His own parents had turned a blind eye, for reasons Cole would never understand. But damned if he was going to do the same thing.
While Brooke downed her second piece of cake and the boys finished up the movie, Diana packed up enough food to last them until fall.
“You know,” Cole said, the bulging bag knocking against his thigh as they walked outside and the kids raced ahead “I really hate it when you pity me.”
“That’s not pity, it’s looove.” Cole groaned; his sister laughed before giving him a one-armed hug. “I’ve missed you, twerp.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” And amazingly enough, he meant it.
Brooke let out a shriek at something Wes said to her, and Diana chuckled again. “They’re going to be fine, honey,” she said softly. “And so will you.”
“I am fine, Di.”
She gave him one of her looks. “No, you’re not. And don’t argue with me, I know you a helluva lot better than you know yourself. You need someone, Cole.”
Yep. Still the same pain in the ass as ever.
“I have someone. Two someones, in fact.”
“Not what I mean, and you know it.” She paused. “I didn’t regret for one minute my decision to stay home with the boys. But if Andy hadn’t been there, too...” Cole could feel her gaze on the side of his face. “Raising kids is hard. Raising them on your own—”
“Is not beyond the realm of possibility.” Bemused, Cole lowered his eyes to his sister’s. “And if you even try to fix me up, I will kill you.”
She laughed. “Not to worry. Every woman I know who’s even reasonably the right age is either married, insane or a skank. Sometimes all three.”
“You need new friends.”
“Tell me about it. But you need—” she rubbed his arm, her voice gentling “—to put yourself out there, sweetie. And don’t give me any flak about having the kids full-time. Because they’re always welcome here while you—” her mouth twitched “—search.”
Smirking, Cole ignored the headache trying desperately to take hold. His sister meant well, she really did. But even if he had the time—or energy—to pursue a relationship, right now was about the kids’ needs. Not his. Because damned if he was going to do to them what their mother had.
“Thanks for the offer, but we’re good.”
Then he hotfooted it down the walk before she could regroup. A talent at which Diana excelled.
* * *
Despite his aching head—which the kids’ near-constant bickering behind him for the past ten minutes hadn’t helped—Cole smiled for the trio of wriggling, curly-tongued pugs swarming Brooke and Wes when they got back to his parents’ house.
“Let ’em out,” he said, dumping his keys on the same little dish on the table by the front door that had been there forever, as the beasts raced through the modest bungalow and through the now-open patio door. Cole quickly unloaded the bag of food, stuffing what needed to be refrigerated into the old white side-by-side before joining kids and dogs outside.
The yard wasn’t particularly large, but it backed onto a wooded parcel separating the neighborhood from a secondary highway. Dimly, Cole could hear that same hum of traffic that used to lull him to sleep at night as a kid, that had served as a comforting backdrop to now-forgotten conversations.
Maybe not so forgotten.
Expelling a breath, he shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood on the cement patio, willing the almost-cool evening breeze to unclog his brain, relax the muscles strangling the base of his skull.
Ironically, his sister’s prodding about the future—the one she saw for him, anyway—had only jerked awake another scene from his past, of a scrawny sixth-grade girl who’d had no trouble verbally smacking down that trio of bullies, all twice her size, who’d been making Cole’s life a living hell. Trying to, anyway. Since in reality their ass-hattery hadn’t bothered him nearly as much as it apparently had her.
His mouth curved in spite of himself as he remembered the good times, of how natural and easy things had been between them.
Until an influx of rowdy hormones drowned out every ounce of intelligence and common sense Cole had possessed, blinding him to who, or what, Sabrina had become—
“Dad? You okay?”
He hadn’t even realized Wes had plopped into one of the patio chairs, long legs stretched in front of him, his pant hems hovering north of his ankles. A trip to the mall was in order, Cole thought, suppressing a shudder. “Sure.”
“Really? Because you’ve been, I don’t know. Weird.”
Out in the yard, Brooke threw a ratty old tennis ball for the dogs, laughing when they all tripped over each other trying to get it. Smiling, Cole crossed the patio to sink into the chair next to Wes’s, then leaned forward to link his hands between his knees. “Hey. Weird is my middle name.”
The kid snorted a laugh through his nose. “Okay, weirder. Seriously, on the way back from Aunt Di’s? You didn’t even tell Brooke and me to stop messing with each other.”
“And you’re complaining?”
“I’m... Well, no. I guess. But...” Something made a peeping sound in the woods. Frog? Bug? “I thought you said you and Sabrina had been best friends?”
“We were.” Brooke flopped on the grass in the fading light, then writhed in laughter as all three dogs assaulted her with sloppy kisses. “Actually, she saved my butt when we were kids. Thinks she did, anyway. Took on a bunch of bullies who apparently took issue with the way I looked.”
“Took on? As in, beat them up or something?”
Cole laughed. “Bree’s a lot tougher than she looks, but...no. Read ’em the riot act, though. And pointed out her twin brother, who was easily twice her size. And theirs. But like I said, we hadn’t seen each other in years. And I certainly wasn’t expecting to see her today. Or her, me.” He glanced over at his son. A breeze ruffled the kid’s too-long hair, almost as curly as Cole’s. He looked back out over the yard. “So it was definitely strange.”
“So, what? You guys just hung out together and stuff? You didn’t date?”
“No,” Cole said mildly. Truthfully. Although with a slight, if insistent, pinch to his chest. “We spent most of our time at the Colonel’s. But sometimes here. Where it was a lot quieter.”
“Quieter?”
“The Colonel and his wife Jeanne had adopted four kids—including Sabrina and her twin brother—and then had a baby of their own right about the time Bree and I met, in middle school. Add to that everybody’s friends...place was definitely hopping.”
“And Mom couldn’t even handle two kids,” Wes muttered, and Cole’s gaze snapped back to his son. He’d given Bree a severely edited version of the story, of course. Partly because he was hardly going to air his—or, in this case, his ex’s—dirty laundry to someone he hadn’t seen in almost twenty years. But partly because he was ashamed, truth be told, that he hadn’t made it his business to find out what exactly had been going on. Then again, how would he have known, if the kids didn’t tell him?
But in the past few days, the truth had leaked out bit by bit, how often Erin would leave them on their own, or forget to pick them up, or even when she was there, retreat to her room and computer rather than interacting with her own children. He’d assumed, since she’d fought for primary custody, they’d be her priority. Instead, they’d apparently been so far down the list they were barely on her register.
His eyes burning, Cole reached over to clamp his hand around the back of his son’s neck. God knew Cole was still jerking awake at night, heart pounding at the realization that no one was coming to get them on Sunday. That he was it. At the same time, no one was ever going to take them away, either. Ever again. Or leave them alone, or ignore them, or let anything—or anyone—come between them.
“All in the past now, buddy,” he whispered. “Not that I know how to handle you guys, either—” that got a chuckle “—but we’ll figure it out together.”
Wes straightened up, his cool gray gaze far too trenchant for thirteen. “You make it sound like this is all new to you. We were with you almost every weekend—”
“This is different,” Cole said. “This is...real.”
“And forever?”
Cole’s throat clogged again. “Yeah.”
The boy stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly, and awkwardly, launched himself into Cole’s arms to give him a sweaty, slightly funky hug.
And Cole thought that this was all he could want. Or need. Or, as his son so succinctly put it, handle.
Wes pulled free, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “C’n I go play on the computer for a little while?” He grinned. “I’m on level sixty-four.”
“No kidding?”
“Yep. Nobody else in school—my old school, I mean—was even close.”
“Huh. Clearly I didn’t make it hard enough.”
“Oh, it’s plenty hard, believe me,” Wes said, his cheeks dimpling. “Can’t help it if I’m a genius.”
“Well, genius, only for an hour. It’s already late. You guys need to be in bed.”
His son made a face, but he knew better than to argue. The bedtime rules—at least with Cole—had been set in stone from the time they were babies. And yet, they’d still wanted to come live with him.
After Wes went inside, Cole settled back in his chair, watching his daughter. It’d become a game, over the past few days, to see who’d run out of steam first—her or the dogs. So far, the dogs had won, every time. Lots of energy packed into those squat little bodies—
His phone rang. He dug it out of his pants pocket, frowning at the unfamiliar number.
“Cole here—”
“Yeah, so your sister said,” a familiar voice barked in his ear. “Not that you’d bothered to tell me.”
“I was going to call you tomorrow, I swear,” he said, and the old woman snorted. Loudly. Aunt Lizzie had always been his mother’s favorite aunt, hovering around ninety and with an attitude befitting a former Rockette who’d once “dated,” or so the story went, someone high up in New York politics. After years of fighting the family about giving up her house in town, a broken hip two years before had finally convinced her to move into a retirement community, where she’d been blissfully raising hell ever since.
“So I need a favor,” she said, as though it hadn’t been months since they’d talked.
Cole’s brows arched. Fiercely independent, Lizzie rarely asked for anything from anyone. One of the reasons Cole hadn’t seen her was because she’d made it clear ages ago she didn’t want anyone clinging to her any more than she wanted to cling to them.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. This friend of mine up here at Sunridge, she invited all of us to come to her granddaughter’s wedding next Saturday. When I asked your sister a couple weeks ago she said she’d take me, so I wouldn’t have to ride that god-awful community bus with all the old biddies. So I call her a couple minutes ago to make sure she remembers, and what does she say? That she totally forgot, she and Andy are taking George up to Adelphi that day to tour the place. Can you believe that sweet little boy is going to college next year? Damn, I’m getting old. But anyway. She said I should call you. So here I am. Calling. Can you take me?”
Cole smiled. “Don’t see why not. But I’ve got the kids—”
“For the weekend?”
“No,” he said quietly. “For good.”
Silence. Then, “And you were planning on telling me this, when?”
“Tomorrow. When I called. It’s a brand-new development, Lizzie,” he said when she snorted again.
“So bring ’em. Anybody can come to the ceremony. And that way I’ll get to see them. ’Cause it’s been a while, you know.”
“Hey. Not my fault you were on a cruise the last time they were here.”
“Okay, you might have a point. Although remind me to never let Myrtle Steinberg talk me into going anywhere with her again. Alaska was pretty and all, but not exactly rife with hot young men in Speedos—”
“So who are these people?” Cole said before the discussion got worse. Which, with Lizzie, was a foregone conclusion. “The ones getting married?”
“What? Oh. Well, like I said, my friend’s granddaughter. Laurel. Lovely girl, brings her baby boy when she comes to visit. Adorable, both of them. She’s marrying one of the Noble boys, actually. The youngest one, I think. You still keep up with that Sabrina?”
Cole’s heart knocked against his ribs. “How on earth would you remember Sabrina? You only met her once. At graduation.”
“Once before that, too. When I was still living over on Edgewood. You’d brought over a cake or something your sister had made, and Sabrina was with you. You don’t remember that?”
“Um...sure?”
Lizzie snorted. “And they say old people are the ones with the sketchy memories—”
Panting, Brooke tromped over to the patio, collapsing into the same chair recently vacated by her brother. She frowned, pointing to her ear. Cole held up one hand as Lizzie repeated her question. Because one did not evade Lizzie.
“So you two still keep up?” she asked.
“Actually...I saw her today. First time since graduation.”
“Get out. So what’s she up to?”
“I don’t know, really. She didn’t say. She’s been living in New York, though.”
“No fooling? Good for her. Sure, I’m okay with living out here now, I’m old as dirt. Who the hell needs to fight those crowds anymore? Not me, that’s for sure. But to be young and living in the city...” He heard her sigh. “But you say she’s back?”
“Visiting, apparently. Because the rest of her family is still here.”
“So I suppose she’ll be there. At the wedding?”
“I...imagine so.”
“Then I’ll get to see her. She still cute?”
Cole laughed in spite of himself. “She’s the same age as me, Lizzie. Thirty-five.”
“And I’m ninety-one next birthday. And still cute as a damn button. Although why buttons are supposed to be cute, I have no idea. Okay, gotta go scope out a good spot for the movie before all the good chairs are taken, I’ll see you on Saturday. The wedding’s at two, but pick me up at one-fifteen, I want to get a good seat in the church. And dress nice, for God’s sake, I got an image to keep up!”
“Dad? What was that all about?”
His phone pocketed, Cole turned to his daughter. “Your grandmother’s aunt Lizzie asked me to take her to a wedding on Saturday. Meaning you guys get to go, too.” He frowned. “Do you even have a dress?”
A look of utter horror flashed in his daughter’s eyes. “I have to wear a dress?”
Just shoot him now.
