Читать книгу Her Unlikely Family - Missy Tippens - Страница 9

Josie set a box of beads and tools on the end table, then grabbed her mug and inhaled the rich aroma of coffee. She exhaled all the stress of the day. After a tense twenty-four hours, she deserved this break, a chance to make a pair of earrings she’d recently designed.

As she curled up on the couch in her oldest sweatpants and sweatshirt, wet hair wrapped in a towel, satisfaction washed over her like the hot shower she’d just finished.

I’ve done what God asked me to do for Mike and Lisa. Nothing feels better.

Of course, she had no idea what the next step would be. But for now, all was well in the Miller household. She could enjoy the rest of her afternoon off and—

The doorbell rang. She was going to have to kill Lisa. “I’m coming,” she yelled, then groaned as she climbed out of her comfortable cocoon. So much for a peaceful afternoon.

She opened the door. “Lisa, if you forgot your key, I’m—”

Mike stood on the doorstep. “Looks like I interrupted.”

She held up her coffee mug. “Only the first relaxing moment I’ve had for myself in a week.”

“Oh. No big deal, then.”

“No big deal?” You big selfish jerk.

He smiled. A dangerous smile that sent her insides into a tailspin.

“Seriously, I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have called first.”

With a confused tug on her sweatshirt, she said, “Well, yeah. And remember it next time.”

He laughed. “You shouldn’t take life so seriously all the time. There is such a thing as kidding.”

“Don’t talk to me about being serious. Take a look in the mirror.”

“I’m the one who dropped by spontaneously, aren’t I?”

“You know, Mike, I never know what to expect from you.” She stepped back from the door. “Come on in. I guess you’re here to see Lisa.”

“I am. I thought we could start getting to know each other by having dinner out.”

“Good idea. But she’s not here yet.”

“She’s still at the studio with that artist?”

“I assume so.”

His eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t she be supervised?”

“She’s too old for me or you to be following her around.”

“I guess I do need to give her some room.”

“Room to make mistakes. To live and learn.”

After he sat on the couch, he spread his big hands over his knees. “I plan to help her avoid the mistakes her mother made.”

“Maybe your sister wouldn’t have made the big mistakes if she’d been allowed to make smaller ones along the way.”

Instead of replying, he leaned his forearms on his thighs and studied the floor as if it might hold the answer to all his problems.

Josie left him to his thoughts and went to remove the towel from her hair and to grab the hairbrush from the bathroom counter. She returned and plopped down in her favorite chair—the one that was so well worn she had trouble getting out of it sometimes. “I have no idea how your sister was raised. It’s just something to think about.”

“You may be right. We were all overprotective.”

As she brushed the tangles out of her matted hair, she watched the emotions play across Mike’s face. “I take it she was rebellious.”

“Always.”

“Did your parents pressure her to fit their mold? Like they’re pressuring Lisa?”

He thought for a minute. “No. But all three of us were expected to act like…well, Throckmortons.”

“Yep. Just like me.”

“Your parents expected you to act like a Throckmorton?” His mouth twitched in a near-smile, but he still looked sad.

She grinned back. “No, I didn’t have to reach such lofty ideals. I only had to be a mere Miller.”

“Ah. I see.”

“You know, you’d probably be surprised at how much your sister and I would have had in common.”

“But you turned out fine.” He shrugged. “Obviously, she didn’t.”

“So it’s been about a year since she died?”

“Yes.”

Her curiosity—and intuition—made her ask, “Were there unusual circumstances surrounding her death?”

“Besides driving drunk at ninety miles per hour and careening off the road?” His tone cut off further questioning. It made Josie wonder exactly what had happened. Then again, maybe he’d simply never grieved and didn’t want to face it now.

She would drop the subject since he seemed so determined. “So, do you want to take Lisa out by yourself tonight?” she asked.

“I had planned on it.” His eyes widened when he finally quit studying the floorboards and noticed Josie brushing her hair. His mother had probably taught him it was all kinds of rude for a woman to brush her hair in front of a man. Josie’s own mother would pitch a fit.

“I’d love a nice quiet evening at home,” Josie said. “But it might not be best for Lisa.”

“In other words, she’ll probably refuse to go with me.”

“I didn’t say that. Not exactly.” Josie laughed. “Where were you planning to take her?”

“Somewhere nice so we can talk.”

“As your official adviser…forget it.”

“I’m not taking her to a fast-food joint.”

“A fast-food place would be perfect.” She pointed her hairbrush at him. “Remember, she’s not a client you’re trying to impress.”

“Give me a little credit.”

Josie pushed her way out of the chair. “Let’s go find Lisa. It’ll just take me a sec to fix my hair.”

As she fought a stubborn tangle, he nodded toward her head. “It’s a fairly normal color when it’s wet.”

She stopped mid tug. “You would never say that to anyone else.”

“Since I’ve been here, I’ve surprised myself a few times.”

She had sensed subtle changes in him already. “Hey, no problem. I think a person should speak his mind.”

“Okay, then. Why’s it pink?”

That was Lisa’s story to tell. “Let’s just say it was a disastrous adventure.”

“Then why haven’t you gone to a salon to have it corrected?”

Because that would make a dent in my savings. “I’m cheap.” She shrugged. “And I figure my pink with Lisa’s green brightens up the diner.”

Michael sat in the fast-food restaurant’s indoor play area across from Lisa and Josie. The artificial light turned their hair hideous colors, which did nothing to brighten up this dining establishment.

And this wasn’t just any establishment. Lisa, who’d insisted Josie come along, had also insisted they drive until they found one that had an indoor playground. They’d passed two perfectly good hamburger places. Now he knew why.