“Did you check under his bed?” he teased. “For alien pods?”
She smiled, as he’d hoped, but her eyes were teary and her lower lip trembled.
“Did he talk about leaving your mom?”
Merrilee took a deep breath, as if struggling for control, and shook her head. “That was the weirdest part. He acted as if what he’s doing is normal. I wanted to ask how he can look at himself in the mirror after the way he’s treated Mom, but I remembered Nana’s warnings.”
“Good girl.” Grant was well aware of his partner’s stubborn side.
Merrilee erupted in an indignant snort, an unladylike noise Sally Mae would not approve of. “Dammit, what I really wanted was to shake him and scream, but I knew I wouldn’t get through to him. It’s as if that woman has him under some kind of spell.”
Frustration gnawed at Grant. He wanted to help make things right again in the Stratton family, but, in a case like this, there wasn’t anything he could do, except wait for Jim to come to his senses.
“If your dad’s still—” Grant fumbled for the right word “—interested in Ginger, why did he bring his stuff home?”
“That was Ginger’s idea.”
“She kicked him out?”
“I wish.”
“So he’s not home for good?”
Merrilee took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, her sigh so poignant it stabbed through Grant like a serrated blade. “According to Dad, Ginger said they shouldn’t live together. Yet. Not while Dad’s on the rebound from Mom.”
“‘Rebound’?” Grant stared at Merrilee in astonishment, then forced his attention back to the winding road. “She breaks up his marriage, then complains he’s on the rebound? The woman’s a fruitcake on wheels.”
“And Dad’s not far behind. He thinks she’s wonderful, her being so concerned about their future together. He almost glows when he mentions her name. It made me sick to see him like that.”
“Let’s hope his coming home turns out to be a good thing,” Grant said. “Familiar surroundings will help him regain his reason.”
“Don’t count on it. I woke up in the middle of the night. The lights were on downstairs when I went to the kitchen for something to drink, and Dad was in the family room on the computer.”
“His guilty conscience keeping him awake?” Grant suggested.
Merrilee shook her head. “He didn’t hear me come in, so I watched for a few minutes. He was on the Web, surfing sites that sell jewelry. Very expensive jewelry. As soon as he realized I was in the room, he switched off his monitor.”
Grant frowned. He’d hoped Merrilee would get some much-needed rest last night, but the faint circles remained under her eyes. Jim had to be at least half crazy not to see what he was doing to his daughter.
“You think he was buying a peace offering for your mom?”
“He didn’t mention Mom once last night, and he seemed really disappointed about Ginger asking him to move out.” She set her jaw and her blue eyes glittered with anger. “I think she’s playing hard to get. If he’s buying jewelry, it’s for her.”
Grant puzzled over his partner’s bizarre behavior, so uncharacteristic of the integrity of the man he’d worked with for years.
“The woman’s so blatantly manipulative,” Merrilee said with disgust, “you’d think Dad would see it.”
“Not necessarily. I had a wise old professor in veterinary school who gave us a talk about objectivity. His example was simplistic but drove home the point. Hold your finger about a foot in front of your nose.”
“Why?”
“Humor me, okay?”
Merrilee shrugged, lifted her right index finger about twelve inches in front of her face and stared at it. “Now what?”
“Can you see it?”
“Of course. It’s right before my eyes.”
Grant slowed for a curve where a bridge crossed the river. “Now place that same finger on the tip of your nose.”
“I assume there’s a point to this.”
“How well can you see your finger now?” From the corner of his eye, he watched her twist her head, trying for a better look.
“Hardly at all.”
“That was the professor’s point. The closer you are to a situation, the harder it is for you to see it clearly. That’s what’s happening with Jim. If he could stand back and take a good look at himself, he’d see how wrong and ridiculous his behavior is.”
Merrilee scowled. “I wonder if Ginger knows this and is keeping him off balance on purpose?”
“My guess is she’s had lots of practice with her game.”
“Brynn thinks so, too. She’s checking with the police in the town Ginger came from.”
Grant slowed to turn into the clinic parking lot. “Brynn has good instincts. I’ll be curious to see what she turns up.”
Grant parked the truck next to Merrilee’s grandmother’s car.
“Thanks again for the ride.” Merrilee climbed out. “I’ll see if Dad’s here.”
“No problem.”
Wishing he could do more than provide transportation and moral support, Grant, with Gloria beside him, followed her inside.
Fran was straightening magazines in the waiting room before the first clients arrived. “I declare, humans make a bigger mess in here than the animals do.”
“Is Daddy around?” Merrilee asked.
“He’s at Mrs. Weatherstone’s,” Fran said. “He left a message on the office machine.”
Grant frowned. “Itty-Bitty?”
“Who’s Itty-Bitty?” Merrilee asked.
“A teacup chihuahua,” Grant explained, “Old Mrs. Weatherstone’s only companion since her husband died. You remember her?”
Merrilee nodded. “She sold her husband’s fix-it shop to Jodie after he died.”
“The woman’s crazy about that dog,” Grant said. “It’s a feisty little thing, and with her loving care it’s lived well beyond its life expectancy.”
“Much to its owner’s delight,” Fran added, “especially since she has no children or grandchildren to keep her company in her old age.”
“And Itty-Bitty’s sick?” Merrilee asked.
Fran nodded, her face sad. “The dog had a stroke during the night.”
Grant closed his eyes briefly, aware of the implications.
“Mrs. Weatherstone called Dr. Stratton at home,” Fran explained.
“I didn’t hear our phone ring,” Merrilee said. “She must have called him on his cell.”
“According to his message,” Fran said, “he’s been there since 4:00 a.m. The poor little dog’s terminal, but Dr. Stratton said he’ll stay as long as necessary.”
Grant understood. “Unless the dog’s in pain, Mrs. Weatherstone will hold on to her little friend as long as she can. And Jim will stay with them until the end, then make sure Mrs. Weatherstone isn’t alone afterward.”
“Poor Itty-Bitty,” Merrilee murmured. “And poor Mrs. Weatherstone.”
Grant nodded in agreement. “She’ll take losing the dog hard. It’s all the family she has left.”
Fran returned to the reception desk.
Merrilee spoke softly. “Thank goodness, Dad hasn’t lost all sense. I’m glad he’s staying there.”
“That he still has his compassion is a good sign.” Grant gave Merrilee’s hand a squeeze.
The front door of the waiting room flew open and Brittany barged in.
Grant dropped Merrilee’s hand and, as usual, stopped himself from rolling his eyes at his niece’s strange attire.
She wore skintight black jeans, a long-sleeved clinging black knit top with a plunging neckline, clunky black shoes and at least three sets of earrings in the only holes Jodie had allowed so far in her daughter’s unending battle for more piercings.
Despite her dark, heavy eyeliner, makeup that made her pale skin even whiter, and deep red, almost-black lipstick, Brittany was still a pretty girl. Except for her perpetual pout. Her long, blond hair was naturally platinu
m, her eyes a startling green, and she had her mother’s high cheekbones and forehead. Jodie had been mischievous and funny as a teenager until Brittany’s arrival had forced her to grow up too fast. Where his niece had inherited her sullen disposition, Grant hadn’t a clue.
Brittany stopped short when she spotted Merrilee, slid her gaze away as if Merrilee wasn’t there, and looked at him. “Hey, Uncle Grant.”
Grant fought and lost to control his irritation at her bad manners. “Aren’t you going to speak to your godmother?”
Merrilee, her face beaming with affection, stepped toward Brittany, arms extended for a hug. “You’re two inches taller than the last time I saw you.”
“Well, duh.” Brittany sidestepped, avoiding Merrilee’s attempt at an embrace. “Growing up is what kids do, isn’t it?”
“That’s no way to talk,” Grant snapped at the girl. “Your mother taught you better manners.”
Merrilee raised her hands and flashed Grant a warning with her eyes. “It’s okay. She’s right. I was stating the blooming obvious.”
In spite of Merrilee’s disclaimer, Grant could tell Brittany had hurt her feelings, and the last thing Merrilee needed right now was more hurt. Jim Stratton had inflicted enough pain on her already.
“What are you doing here so early?” Merrilee asked Brittany.
Brittany was sullenly unresponsive until she caught Grant’s warning glare.
“I work every Saturday,” she said, as if speaking was an imposition. “I walk the dogs, clean kennels and the stable.” She tossed her hair back with affected nonchalance. “Mom won’t have me at the café. She’s afraid I’ll gross out the customers.”
“That’s not true,” Grant said with more patience than he felt. “You wanted to work here because you like animals.”
“Whatever,” Brittany said with a bored shrug. “Can I go now?”
If his niece was trying to rile him, Grant refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d succeeded. “We’re boarding a pair of cocker spaniels. How about walking them first?”
With a sigh that suggested the task was beneath her, Brittany clumped out of the waiting room through the door that led to the boarding kennels.
“Whew,” Merrilee said. “When did that happen?”
“What?”
“The attitude the size of New York.”
Grant shook his head. “Jodie says it’s a teen thing. I guess they all go through it.” He worried about Brittany’s moody rebelliousness, but he didn’t want to add to Merrilee’s problems by admitting it. “She’ll outgrow it.”
“Before somebody takes offense and punches her in her very pretty nose, I hope.” Merrilee smiled, but her expression was forced and didn’t cover the hurt in her eyes.
“I’m making rounds this morning,” Grant said. “Want to come along and take more pictures?”
Merrilee shook her head. “I should check on Nana. Then I’ll drive into Asheville to visit Mom.”
“Have supper with me tonight.”
She shook her head again.
“I thought you liked my cooking.”
“I do. But I want to be at home in case I have a chance to talk with Dad.”
The urge to protect her, whether from her father’s indiscretions or his niece’s rudeness, consumed him.
She seemed to sense his feelings. “I’m a big girl, Grant. I can take care of myself.”
But I want to take care of you.
He bit back the words, suddenly overwhelmed by the obstacles that faced him. Bringing Jim Stratton to his senses, improving Brittany’s attitude and conquering Merrilee’s fears of loving him would all take patience and time.
He had the patience.
He could only pray that time was on his side before Merrilee fled back to New York and out of reach.
“Drive carefully,” he said. “And call me if you need me.”
His hopes lifted when she rose on tiptoe and planted a fleeting kiss on his cheek. “Thanks. For everything.”
Before he could respond, she hurried out the door.
MJ SPENT THE NEXT FEW days in a fog, forcing her mind and body through the motions of normal life.
Twice during that time, she visited Nana and today was the second time she’d met her mother for lunch on the Asheville campus.
Sitting in a restaurant booth across from her mom and watching her toy with her food broke MJ’s heart. Her beautiful mother was wasting away before her eyes. Cat had dropped at least ten pounds, her luxuriant hair had lost its sheen, her usually erect posture drooped and the sparkle in her eyes had dimmed.
She perked up briefly when MJ told her that Jim had moved back home, but her spirits dipped again when MJ explained the reason behind his return.
“I’m worried sick about him,” her mother said.
“Worried?” MJ asked in surprise. “Aren’t you angry?”
Her mother’s sad smile twisted her heart. “That, too. But this isn’t like him. Something’s wrong.”
“Yeah,” MJ said with a grimace, “a terminal case of raging testosterone. Maybe I should slip saltpeter into his food.”
“Or arsenic in hers.” Cat refused to speak Ginger Parker’s name, as if by not acknowledging it, she could make the woman nonexistent.
“Jodie and I have already considered and rejected that option.”
Anger flashed across her mother’s face. “Jim’s a married man, a father. What kind of woman thinks it’s okay to break up a family?”
“One who doesn’t value family life and probably doesn’t value herself. Brynn dug up some background. Ging—uh, that woman—had an unhappy marriage before her husband died.”
Cat scowled. “That doesn’t give her the right to ruin mine.” She pushed her plate aside. “I suppose everybody in town knows by now.”
“Not everyone,” MJ hedged for her mother’s sake. “It’s less obvious with Dad back home. Maybe you should come home, too.”
“And do what? Get on my knees and beg? I have my pride left, if not much else.”
MJ reached across the table and grasped her mother’s fingers that had been nervously shredding a paper napkin. “You have me, Mom.”
Her mother’s eyes teared and she squeezed MJ’s fingers. “Yes, thank God, for my beautiful daughter.”
But MJ knew, even though her mother loved her deeply, that no one could fill the void her father had created in her mother’s world.
MJ had experienced that kind of emptiness when she’d left for NewYork. She’d had her parents and Nana to love her, but without Grant, something vital had been missing from her life. But she and Grant had only had a short time together. She could only imagine what her mother was feeling at the probability of losing the man who’d been both husband and best friend for over thirty years.
“I’ve been doing research on the Internet,” MJ said, “on infatuation.”
Her mother blinked in surprise. “Find anything?”
MJ nodded. “It’s amazing the number of scientific studies on the subject.”
“Mmm.” Her mother’s eyes had a vacant look as if she were a thousand miles away.
“Infatuation causes a chemical change in the brain,” MJ said. “If Dad’s infatuated with…that woman…it explains his change in behavior.”
“Infatuation,” her mother said with a twist of her attractive lips. “It’s the same as love, isn’t it?”
“No, that’s the good part.”
Cat stared across the table at her daughter, giving MJ her full attention. “I could use some good news.”
Encouraged, MJ continued. “According to the studies, most infatuations last from eighteen to thirty-six months. And most don’t evolve into real love. There has to be more than sexual chemistry involved for love to develop.”
“Such as?”
“Things in common. Goals, backgrounds, interests.”
“So, according to your research, this infatuation may have your father in its grip for three years.” Her mother’s smile was
lovely but sad. “Now tell me the good news.”
“Don’t you see, Mom? Dad doesn’t have anything in common with…her. Once the infatuation burns itself out, he’ll recognize that.”
Cat appeared lost in thought. “But a year and a half to three years? A man can make a real fool of himself in that time.” She seemed to shake off the idea to concentrate on her daughter. “Your research must have taught you something about yourself.”
“Me?” MJ shook her head. “I’m not infatuated with anyone.”
This time her mother’s expression was warm. “No, you and Grant passed that stage long ago.”
MJ didn’t want to admit to herself, much less her mom, how much she still cared about Grant. “I broke our engagement, remember?”
“And I’ve never really understood why. You two have so much in common—”
“But we fought—”
“Not often.” Cat searched her daughter’s face and MJ had to look away, afraid of what her eyes might reveal. Cat added, “And you wouldn’t have been human if you hadn’t.”
“But you and Daddy never fought.”
Cat laughed, looking for a moment almost like her old self. “We never fought in front of you, but we had our differences. And we aired them frequently and with great gusto.”
“I don’t believe it. I can’t remember you two ever not getting along.”
“We always did…eventually.” Her mother’s face softened, as if the memories warmed her. “Although your father and I are both people of very firm opinions, our disagreements were never bitter. We learned to compromise.”
The lines of Cat’s face hardened again as the pain returned to her eyes. “If you love Grant, sweetheart, let him know. Life’s too short to miss out on love.”
MJ gasped in disbelief. “How can you say that when Daddy’s breaking your heart?”
“Because, in spite of the heartache, I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the years we’ve had together. Not even that woman can steal the joy of them from me. I’ll always have my memories.”
Aware of the tears prickling beneath her eyelids, MJ refused to let her mother see them. Cat had enough to worry about without worrying about her, too.
“Promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said,” her mother asked.
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