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“Dad, it happened fourteen years ago. It affected all of us, not just him.” Rory stood. He’d had this conversation with Dad many times over the years with varying degrees of heat.
“I know.” He leveled a look at Rory. “Mark has always marched to his own drummer. But this deliberate separation concerns me. As you get older, you think more about these things.”
“I’ll catch up to him.” Rory wiggled his good leg, then the prosthetic.
“You do that. Remind him he still has an old man. You got a meeting?” His dad stood, hands in his pockets.
“Always. Don’t know what I’d do without Paige to keep me straight.” Shooting a quick prayer heavenwards, Rory hoped Vi would give a thumbs up on the remodel. Once he knew, he’d get Paige in the loop.
“Sweet little gal. Good head on her shoulders.”
With effort, Rory kept his eyes at face level. What Dad didn’t say flapped through the air on bulky wings. “Bye, Dad.”
His dad barked out a single-syllable laugh. “Don’t want to go there, huh?” He stood and clapped a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son. You’re a fine young man. When you find the right one, you’ll know it.”
“Thanks for saying so, Dad.”
Despite the not-so-subtle references to settling down, Rory hugged the older man with affection. They’d adapted the practice shortly after Mom died. Once they realized somebody you loved could be gone in an instant.
A smug look passed over the older man’s face, and his eyes glinted with mischief. “I won’t even play the grandkid card—today.”
With a wry look, Rory adjusted his gait and strode to the door. His thoughts were elsewhere. Why did a little woman with fiery red hair flit through his mind faster than his dad could say the g-word?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alone in the deli, Vi pushed her salad away after listening to Mother’s latest voicemail. Thoughts of Mother only entrenched Vi’s desire to remodel her childhood home. Vi wanted to meet with Rory, but calling him felt awkward. Why couldn’t she have held her tongue about the limp? Touchy subject. A little discretion on her part might have helped. Or not.
With a sigh, she gazed out the artificially frosted window. Upbeat Christmas music floated from the upstairs speakers. Dashing through the snow … Yeah, snow in South Texas happened once a decade, if then. A ten-foot-tall Christmas tree shimmered with red and silver decorations. Essential oil wafted throughout the lobby, a pungent mixture of pine and cinnamon.
She bit her lip and cringed. The tender flesh had already suffered through previous nibbling. Her heavy massage schedule and the unknown remodel costs were taking a toll. Resuming her walks around the lake would help with the anxiety. However, the vagrant incident spooked her more than she wanted to admit. Absorbed in her thoughts, she shrieked when Rory slid into the seat across from her.
“Gotcha! How’s my favorite redhead today?” His gray eyes widened.
The unintended remark made Vi laugh, even as a pleasant sense of belonging splashed against her walls of solitude. Unfortunately, her mind chose the moment to replay their kiss, making her cheeks flush with warmth.
Rory returned her grin as if he knew where her thoughts flew.
Vi tore her eyes from his and struggled for coherent thought. This … this twitterpating would never do. She stammered, “We need to talk.”
He nodded as if in agreement, glancing at her uneaten salad. “Not hungry?”
Then Vi remembered why her appetite vanished. “I’d be hungrier if I could figure out what to do with Mom.”
“Ah. Mother.”
Another chuckle rose in Vi’s throat at Rory’s wry inference. “You got a firsthand view of how she acts when things aren’t going according to plan.” She’d never asked about his “coffee date” with Mom. It brought up memories she preferred to avoid.
“I got the impression she loves you, but doesn’t know how to show it.” Rory patted her hand. “She’ll figure it out.”
“We’ve always butted heads.” Vi’s relationship with Mom normally stayed private. However, Rory had already met the woman. “This latest round, she’s insisting I move back to Houston.”
“What’s in Houston for you?” Rory’s thumbs rubbed together.
“Bad memories. I lived there off and on for several years. Big city life is not my tamale.”
“Seems to me you’ve got a good life here. If you haven’t changed your mind, we need to talk next steps about your house.”
His sensible tone cheered her in a way she couldn’t explain. She bit her lip again when reality knocked. “How much will this cost, Rory?” Staying cool and professional about a subject so close to her heart had become increasingly difficult.
