Читать книгу A Texas-Made Family - Roz Denny Fox - Страница 7

DURING A BREAK between morning clients at the salon the following week, Rebecca called Lisa’s school counselor. Mrs. Feldman agreed with Rebecca that Lisa’s infatuation with Ryan Lane was probably the main reason behind Lisa’s slipping grades. As they chatted, Rebecca found out a bit more about the Lane family. Grant Lane had recently retired from the air force as a colonel and moved to San Antonio with his two children, Ryan and a young daughter, Brandy.

After the conversation with the counselor, Rebecca got the Lanes’ number from directory assistance. Determined to solve this issue parent-to-parent, Rebecca dialed before she could get cold feet.

GRANT LANE, who’d just transferred a load of his daughter’s clothes from the washer to the dryer, walked into his kitchen to pour his first cup of morning coffee. The phone rang. He grabbed it, worried that something had happened to Ryan or Brandy.

“Hello.”

“Mr. Lane, my name is Rebecca Geroux. I don’t know if you’re aware, but your son, Ryan, and my daughter, Lisa, seem to be dating. Until recently, my daughter was a straight-A student. Now her grades are slipping, and I believe it’s because she’s infatuated with your son.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I’m Lisa Geroux’s mother, Rebecca. I’m calling from work, so unfortunately I can’t talk long. The thing is, Mr. Lane, Lisa needs to keep her grades up in order to qualify for college scholarships. Frankly, Ryan is a huge distraction. I’m appealing to you, hoping you’ll influence him.”

Grant took a slug of the hot coffee to jump-start his brain and let him piece together the choppy facts the woman threw at him. It was news to him that Ryan had a girlfriend. They weren’t exactly on the greatest terms. Anyhow, Ryan was almost eighteen. Grant would worry if he didn’t have girlfriends. “Well, Mrs. Geroux, I’m happy to hear Ryan has made friends, being new in San Antonio and all.”

“This is getting out of hand. Lisa’s never cared for sports, and now she’s throwing away valuable study time watching your son play baseball. It’s also come to my attention that after the game, when Lisa’s supposed to be babysitting for one of my co-workers, Ryan takes her—well, all of them—to a fast-food restaurant where they waste several hours she could use for studying. Are you saying this isn’t affecting Ryan’s schoolwork?”

“Not that I’ve seen. Ryan’s always been a good student.” Grant wasn’t about to tell this woman, a perfect stranger, that his son didn’t confide in him and he had no idea what Ryan’s grades were like. Their rapport had never been great, and it’d gotten worse since Grant’s retirement—when he’d really become a full-time dad.

But maybe he could find out more from Mrs. Geroux. He cleared his throat. “I can see you’re better informed about all of this than I am. Tell you what, I’d be willing to meet with you and your husband to explore this further. Of course, it’ll have to be when Ryan’s not around. Or his sister. I have a younger daughter, and it’s just me. I mean, I’m a single parent.”

“So am I. Meeting you could be difficult, which is why I phoned. I work two jobs, Mr. Lane, so I don’t have much free time.”

“Please…call me Grant. I really do think we need to discuss this in more depth. I’m not convinced I want to interfere in my son’s school friendships.”

“Shoot, my next client just arrived. I need to hang up and go back to work, uh…Grant. I have to say I’m disappointed. I assumed you’d work with me once I explained the situation.”

Grant fiddled with his coffee cup. Mrs. Geroux’s displeasure was telegraphed clearly, and he felt bad for her. “Is it possible for you to get away from work for an hour or so tomorrow? I’ll give you my address. If you can drop by here, you can follow me to our neighborhood café. We can talk over coffee or breakfast if you’d like to meet before work.”

“Tomorrow might be okay. What time? I’ll need to move or cancel clients, but I’m serious about getting Lisa back on track.”

“How does nine-fifteen sound?”

“I’ll make it work. It’s that important, Mr. Lane.”

“Grant,” he reminded her. Then gave her his address and precise directions. After he hung up, Grant wondered if he’d regret offering to meet Rebecca Geroux. What if she turned out to be a lunatic? But it was the only way he could buy time to figure out a response. How would it have sounded if he’d admitted he didn’t even know Ryan was playing baseball, let alone that he had a girlfriend?

Obviously his relationship with his son needed attention, and it was also plain that the Geroux woman thought he could influence Ryan. For that to happen, he and his son would have to have a civil face-to-face talk. Grant would welcome one, but things had happened over Ryan’s lifetime to erect barriers between them. He wasn’t sure he knew how to break them down.

Grant wondered what Rebecca Geroux would think of a father who was on such a rocky footing with his eldest child. He reflected on the cause for his problems with Ryan. He could probably go all the way back to before Teresa died, when his obsession with flying and his career took precedence over his marriage. He’d failed to see how his wife’s troubled history affected their firstborn. For so long it had seemed easier to stay away and avoid the unhappiness—his and Teresa’s. All that time Teresa had raised Ryan alone, and he’d let her, because it was easier to be off building his career.

He supposed he was still looking for the easy way out.

WHEN REBECCA got home after work, she toyed with the idea of calling Mr. Lane back and canceling. After all, they should be able to come to an agreement over the phone. She formulated what she’d say to him as she stopped to collect the mail. Absently, she tore open and inspected the bank statement from the joint college savings account she held with Lisa. Rebecca noted her deposits listed for each week of the month. Lisa, though, hadn’t contributed a thing. Not one cent in nearly five weeks.

The paper fluttered in Rebecca’s hand as she tried to absorb the information. She sat for a moment before stuffing the statement back in its envelope. Then she took a deep breath in an effort to calm her temper. Why no deposits, when Lisa had started babysitting for Darcy and was earning more than in previous months?

Rebecca called the kids and started fixing supper. Once they were all seated at the table, she let them fill their plates before she pulled the statement out of her pocket. Rebecca laid it in front of Lisa, who blanched.

“Mom, I have a year and a half before I need to pay college tuition.”

“True, but each year the costs go up. What disturbs me, Lisa, is that we had a deal. Why didn’t you follow through?”

“I had school expenses,” Lisa mumbled. “Stuff my friends can get without a hassle. I haven’t asked you for money. Why do I have to explain what I’m buying?”

“What things do you need, Lisa? This is the first I’ve heard of any of this. I don’t want you kids to go without. I want you to fit in.”

Lisa got up, leaving her supper untouched on the table. “I’m so sick of money being such an issue. Our garbage disposal is still broken, Mother. Ryan would’ve fixed it at no charge.” Without waiting for a response, she stormed off toward her bedroom.

Ryan again. Rebecca swirled her peas and carrots through her steamed rice. She’d lost her appetite, too.

Jordan ate everything on his plate, but kept his head down until he reached for seconds and then noticed his mom’s listlessness. “Lisa bought an athletic booster card for baseball season so she could get a discount on the game tickets. And the girls I see her hang with have loads more cash to throw around.”

“Who are these girls? Do I know them or are they new friends she’s met with Ryan?”

Jordan shrugged. He finished his meal, then he, too, disappeared. By the time Rebecca tidied up and left for her job at the Tumbleweed, both kids were in their rooms, and she was once again convinced that she had to meet Grant Lane.

THE NEXT MORNING Rebecca gave herself two hours to meet Ryan’s father and enlist his help in breaking up their kids. She hadn’t handled yesterday’s conversation very well. He’d sounded as if he favored Ryan and Lisa being a couple. It was up to her to convince him otherwise.

Rebecca tried to anticipate how their discussion might go if he continued to oppose her. Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Grant Lane probably thought his son was a great catch.

And rightly so, she admitted grudgingly. Rebecca couldn’t blame Lisa for thinking that Ryan was hot. His eyes were a clear, arresting blue, framed by lashes most girls would kill for. Add his cool car to all that, and any girl would be impressed.

Again, Rebecca turned her thoughts to the father. What kind of man bought his teenage son a convertible? Grant must have bought it, because Ryan clearly didn’t work. It would help if he did.

Some men had skewed values. Jack, for example. The only reason Rebecca was willing to meet with a strange man was to ensure that Lisa was better equipped to deal with the Jack Geroux types than she’d been. That was why she’d canceled two clients who hadn’t been able to come in later. Rebecca could see money flying out the window, and she’d have to juggle her bills again. Did single dads have as much difficulty making ends meet?

For the first time Rebecca wondered what had happened to Ryan’s mother. Most likely she’d died, since the kids lived with their dad. Rebecca caught herself momentarily feeling sorry for the children. For Grant Lane, too. Single parenting was hard, regardless of the circumstances.

Lost in her thoughts, Rebecca almost missed the entry to the Lanes’ housing development. Reading off street names, she found the one she was looking for, and made a right turn onto a tree-lined avenue. The homes were spacious, and their landscaping immaculate. Rebecca’s house would fit twice into any one of these Spanish-style mansions. But somehow, after seeing Ryan Lane’s convertible, the affluent neighborhood didn’t surprise her. No doubt the boy had been born into money, and had a future loaded with potential.

She hoped Lisa wasn’t dazzled by all the material things beyond her reach. Frowning, Rebecca braked in front of a driveway that led up to a sprawling house. Multiple arches, red-tile roof, a pristine lawn. The number matched the address Grant Lane had given her.

She wished she’d suggested they just meet at the café he’d mentioned. Her hands felt damp and slippery on the steering wheel. Wouldn’t it be awkward going up to knock on a strange man’s door—especially here, where she was so out of her element? Grant had a nice, melodic voice, she reminded herself. Rebecca hoped he had a personality to match it.

Even as she debated turning around, the decision was taken out of her hands.

The front door opened and every thought sailed right out of her head. The elder Lane came halfway down his brick walkway to pick up his paper. To say he was good-looking was too tame.

Rebecca’s heart thudded. As she tried to settle it, he came up to her car and gestured for her to roll down her window.

“Are you Rebecca Geroux, or just lost in the neighborhood?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and Rebecca managed to say, “I’m Rebecca.”

“Good. Let me throw my paper in the house. My car’s in the garage. I’ll back out and you can follow me.”

Rebecca had noticed the dark blue SUV in the driveway when she drove up. Now she wondered if that was also his, or if Grant Lane was seeing someone. Although if he was, it didn’t matter to her.

Watching him jog back to the house, Rebecca admitted she’d been expecting someone older. He couldn’t have more than a few years on her. Surely a man his age must still work.

She waited, and finally the garage door lifted. Rebecca wrenched on the ignition, giving silent thanks when the Nissan purred to life. She’d just released the parking brake when a red sports car shot out past the SUV. Grant punched a remote control hanging on his sun visor and the door lowered.

Rebecca admired the Porsche Boxter convertible as it sped off down the road. She gave herself a shake. Here she sat drooling like an idiot, and he’d turned the corner at the end of the block. She barely managed to get under way and keep him in sight. He navigated the suburban streets with confidence.

Rebecca thought she’d lost him after he pulled into an area of strip malls. She caught him at a light and saw that he was signaling a turn into a parking space in front of a brightly lit café she would otherwise have missed.

She pulled in farther down the street, but couldn’t help noticing that Grant was already out of his car. Reaching back in, he hung his sunglasses over the visor.

Boy, he was trusting, leaving his top down and his expensive shades in plain sight. She’d installed motion detectors around her house, and attached a Club to her steering wheel every night to discourage car theft. But that was the difference between her neighborhood and Grant Lane’s.

He waited for her beside the café door. As she walked toward Grant, Rebecca cataloged more things about him. His hair was shorter than his son’s and not as dark—more of a honey shade, thick and sun-streaked. But it wasn’t as short as the military types she saw around town. And there were a lot of those, as San Antonio was home to many military families. The slightly mussed style suited him. He wore khaki pants and a navy-blue T-shirt that showed off toned muscles. He looked…darn good. Suntanned. Carefree.

Rebecca glanced at her reflection in the café window to see if she appeared as harried as she felt. Satisfied that she looked okay, she reminded herself that she couldn’t stay long. Her first client was booked for eleven-thirty.

Smiling again, Grant opened the restaurant door wider, allowing Rebecca to pass. It was a nice touch and she gave him points for being a gentleman.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“I usually sit in a booth by the window, but why don’t we get a table at the back where we can talk more freely?” He gestured for her to go first. Rebecca felt conspicuous in her work clothes and comfy shoes, but she refused to slouch.

The waitress arrived seconds after they sat down. “I thought you’d skipped breakfast today,” she said to Grant. “Do you want the usual? And what about the lady?”

“Just coffee for me. Black, one sugar,” Rebecca said.

“Make it the same for me.” Grant turned over both cups that already sat on the table.

Pasting on a smile, Rebecca gripped the handle of her cup. “I’ll pay for my coffee,” she said.

He frowned. “Not necessary. I invited you.” He followed that with another smile of his own that sent heat all the way to Rebecca’s toes. For a moment, her carefully prepared speech lodged in her throat.

“I’ll get right to the point, if I may,” she said, refocusing her attention. “Your son seems to be a good kid, but he’s all wrong for my daughter. Perhaps I wasn’t clear, but she’s a junior and this year is very important. If she has any shot at scholarships, her grades must remain exemplary. I’ve had no luck convincing her to stop seeing Ryan. I thought that, as another single parent, you might understand and help by persuading Ryan to move on. Lisa has to focus on school. That’s all there is to it.”

“At their age, shouldn’t they have a say in how they spend their free time and who they spend it with? I mean, she sounds like a wonderful girl. One a father would be happy to have his son date.”

“You don’t get it at all.” Rebecca twirled her cup around and around. “She’s spent money she can’t afford on a pass for Ryan’s ball games. Money that should be going into her college fund.”

“Why isn’t she doing what you ask?”

Rebecca’s eyes flashed. “I suppose because she’s flattered by his attention. She’s not used to it. The new boy. An athlete. All of that gives her social standing, according to my son.”

“How old is he? Doesn’t he have any influence with his sister?”

“Apparently not.” Rebecca held her cup so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I honestly thought I’d taught Lisa the importance of a good education.” Sipping her coffee, Rebecca shook her head sadly.

“Choosing to watch a high school ball game isn’t the end of the world. So she gets a little off-track. Don’t all kids do that at least once? Or have you planned for every contingency and lived a perfect, orderly life?”

“Hardly. Which is why I want more for my children. But this isn’t about me. It’s about making sure our teens stay on the right path.”

Grant shrugged.

“Is that your answer? Maybe this doesn’t matter to you, but it matters to me.” Rebecca slid out of the booth, dug in her purse and slapped two one-dollar bills down on the table. “Thanks for nothing.” She stormed out of the café, got in her car and pulled into traffic, all the while muttering under her breath about what a jerk Grant Lane was.

GRANT WATCHED Rebecca leave in a huff. He sat glaring after her. She had some nerve trying to manipulate him into a confrontation with Ryan when her own daughter wouldn’t listen to a word she’d said. Although maybe she’d inadvertently handed him a way to bond with his son. If Ryan liked the girl, and she liked him, why shouldn’t they date? It was what normal teens did.

He paid for his coffee, and followed in Rebecca’s wake. She’d already gone through the light at the corner by the time he climbed into his car.

The flash of her ocean-colored eyes haunted Grant as he eased the Boxter into traffic. The hell of it was she’d managed to garner his sympathy, too. He thought about Brandy. If he were in Rebecca’s position and it was his daughter getting into a romance with her son, Grant had to admit he might feel differently. He knew well enough that sometimes a young man was ruled by baser instincts. Rebecca probably knew, too.

But didn’t she trust her daughter?

Adjusting his sunglasses, Grant stopped to wonder why Mrs. Geroux didn’t just ground her daughter, the almost-genius, if she was really that concerned.

It irritated Grant all over again as he replayed their conversation and realized Rebecca had made it seem as if Ryan was totally to blame for leading the brilliant Lisa astray. What if Rebecca had a skewed vision of her daughter?

By all reports his son was a good student, although if truth be told, Grant couldn’t claim much credit for it. Still, Lisa wasn’t the only one who’d be going to college.

This full-time-dad role also meant Grant ought to concern himself with what kind of friends Ryan hung out with. Who knew better than he how easily a young man could screw up his life?

Did Lisa Geroux look like her mother? Rebecca was attractive. Especially when she was passionately standing up for her daughter. Grant hadn’t exactly processed all of Rebecca’s complaints, because he’d been distracted by her pretty eyes and lush lips. She made quite the picture with her shoulder-length red hair curled in wild disarray around her face. Grant found he’d been most drawn to Rebecca’s eyes. They held fire and life, yet he saw a hint of tragedy in their luminous depths.

For the first time in a long while, a woman—a slightly brusque one who didn’t care for him at that—had provoked a yearning Grant had thought was dormant, if not dead. He’d purposely avoided serious relationships since his ordeal with Teresa.

Why had he let Rebecca leave so abruptly? His day now stretched before him like all the lonely days he’d experienced since he’d moved his family to San Antonio. He needed a hobby. Something more than writing a new technical strategy manual as an old friend now in the Pentagon had asked him to do. He’d thought retirement would let him connect with his kids, but they seemed remarkably self-sufficient.

What would Rebecca have said if he’d asked her to go out with him some night? Nothing to do with their kids.

He could guess. She’d already blown up at him. Grant grinned at the thought of what it’d be like to intentionally stoke her fire.

She’d also given up on him too fast. After his years in the military, Grant took his time to make an informed decision. If she wanted his help, she should’ve given him more information. He needed to talk to her again.

But he supposed he’d have to get her phone number from Ryan.

Grant swung his car into his driveway and impatiently punched the garage door opener that hung on his visor. The problem with having to question his son, as Grant knew only too well, was that Ryan barely spoke to him.

Rebecca of the captivating eyes and the protective love for her daughter clearly expected him to be able to influence his son’s choices.

What were the chances of that?

For too many years he’d left raising Ryan to Teresa. With all the ups and downs in their marriage, it had seemed easier. The result hadn’t turned out well for anyone.

Considering his lack of rapport with Ryan, Grant knew he couldn’t open a conversation by repeating Rebecca’s accusations. Especially when he’d been clueless when it came to Ryan’s friends. Or girlfriends, for that matter.

He wasn’t ready to admit the girl was a problem, but wasn’t keeping tabs on stuff like that an important part of parenting? He hadn’t been good at it in the past, but had vowed to be better after their move. It seemed he had a lot of catching up to do.

Thank God Brandy still thought he was an okay dad. But with Ryan he’d have to tread carefully. Very, very carefully.

But he didn’t intend to wade into those waters alone. Rebecca Geroux’s daughter made up the other half of the so-called relationship. Becca—Grant thought that name fit the firebrand better than starchy Rebecca—yes, Becca could damn well get her feet wet right alongside him.

If she hadn’t mentioned it on the phone yesterday, Grant wouldn’t have known his son was playing ball until he overheard Ryan let something slip this morning to his sister.

It was usually Ryan’s job to pick up his sister from school. Lately, though, he’d gotten into the habit of leaving notes on the fridge asking Grant to collect her several days a week. Grant hadn’t asked why. All the reports he’d ever had on Ryan in Germany said he was a good, studious kid. Grant had assumed, apparently incorrectly, that changing schools during Ryan’s senior year required extra work in the library. Grant hadn’t pressed for answers because he was glad of the additional time to bond with the daughter who’d been raised too long by nannies. Yet another mistake.

Just today, Ryan had told Brandy where he’d be after school. At a home baseball game. It hurt to learn that Ryan had deliberately kept this a secret.

What better place to begin catching up on his son’s life? Ryan probably wouldn’t be thrilled to see him, but having the element of surprise on his side was an advantage.

Grant focused on his ideas for the manual, killing time until he needed to get Brandy from school.

“Hi, kiddo,” he said, his heart lighter when she hugged him after tossing her pink backpack in the backseat. Grant was driving the SUV, preferring its side airbags whenever he had his kids with him. The Porsche was an indulgence. A guy thing, although Ryan referred to it as an upside-down bathtub. A pretty pricy bathtub even with the deep discount he’d got by purchasing it at the factory in Germany.

Brandy fastened her seat belt, and turned her big blue eyes on Grant. “Daddy, can I get a clarinet? The band teacher came to our homeroom today. He tested everybody in my grade on flute, clarinet and two horns. One with a slidy thing, the other with three buttons on top. Mr. Gregg—that’s the teacher’s name—said to tell you I have the perfect embouchure to play clarinet.”

She said it so proudly Grant couldn’t help smiling, even though he had no earthly idea what she meant. “That’s great, Brandy. Did Mr. Gregg suggest renting a clarinet to see if it’s something you really want to do?”

“Uh-huh. But most kids are going to have their parents buy new ones. Who wants to use someone else’s mouthpiece? Gross!”

“I see your point. I’ll look into it next week and see what they have at a music store. Right now, how would you like to go to the high school to watch your brother play baseball?”

Brandy’s eyes grew wide. “Does Ryan know you’re going to watch him pitch?”

“So he’s a pitcher. I’ll be…” Grant let the expletive fizzle on his tongue. “You knew he was playing ball?”

“He played in Germany, too. He’s good, Daddy.”

“Then there’s no reason for us not to go watch him, is there?”

She brushed blond curls off her face. “I don’t want him to think I ratted on him.”

“Honestly, Brandy.” Grant blew out a frustrated breath. “Parents are entitled to know what activities their kids are into.”

Her little pixie face fell, and Grant immediately softened his tone. “Maybe he won’t spot us. But if he does, I’ll make sure he knows we’re there because he mentioned it this morning.”

“I guess it’ll be okay, then.”

Grant located the ball diamond and parked a distance from the gate. As he and Brandy walked along the fence, Grant peered through the mesh, trying to get the lay of the land, so to speak. It appeared the home team was at bat. There were already a lot of people in the stands, making it easier to pay and slip in unnoticed.

“There’s Ryan, Daddy! He’s coming up to bat.” Brandy spoke so loudly several people turned to look at them. Grant’s gaze lit on an attractive strawberry-blonde. Her hair was as curly as Brandy’s, but shorter. Finding seats in the second row from the top, Grant eyed the girl, who appeared to have her hands full with two younger children. Twins, would be his guess. Tough, active little boys. Their antics made Grant smile. But he also felt sorry for the girl, who must be their sister or babysitter. When two older boys raced up and flung their arms around her neck, he wondered how on earth she managed to handle all four.

Grant was intrigued by the way all four boys and the blond girl had their attention on Ryan, who was indeed at bat. Ryan slugged a home run on the second pitch. The quintet in the front row clapped madly and yelled Ryan’s name. Even more intriguing was what happened two seconds after Ryan jogged triumphantly across home plate. The twins charged right over to him. Grant watched his son scoop both boys up, then, grinning like a hyena, join the blond girl on the sidelines.

Grant muttered under his breath. The girl had to be Lisa Geroux. Her flashing aquamarine eyes reminded Grant of her mother. And there was no mistaking the chemistry she and Ryan shared. The joy vanished from Ryan’s face the instant the girl turned and pointed to him and Brandy.

Busted, Grant thought guiltily. She must have heard Brandy’s loud comment when they arrived. His stomach bottomed out the way it did when he pulled too many Gs in flight. Ryan was involved with a girl. And her mother was dead set against the relationship. What a mess. He could’ve retired any number of places, but he’d picked San Antonio. It’d been his first duty station and held some happy memories. He’d hoped his kids would like it here, and that maybe he and Ryan could heal old wounds.

Now it appeared they could be facing more problems than ever. It was evident they needed to talk about a lot of things. Not here in front of a crowd, but soon.

Standing, Grant took Brandy’s hand. Ignoring her protests, he led her to the side of the bleachers farthest away from where Ryan stood glaring at them. Grant jumped down and held up his arms for Brandy.

“Why are we leaving? We never got to watch Ryan pitch.”

“Turns out this wasn’t a good idea, Brandy. How about we go get ice cream instead?”

“Rocky road?”

“Sure.” It would no doubt ruin her appetite for dinner. Here he went again, being far too easygoing. But he couldn’t have both his kids hating him. Maybe he should get a few pointers on tough parenting from Rebecca Geroux.