by Hope Ramsay
But obviously any injured folks hadn’t been brought here to the local family practice. She clamped down on the urge to say the words “I’m sorry.” Instead, she waited without another word until the receptionist picked up her telephone handset and paged the good doctor.
A minute later, she was ushered down a long hallway with exam rooms on either side. Dylan’s office was at the end, and it wasn’t large but it did have a window with a view down Palmetto Street.
“You’re late,” Dylan grumbled. His eyes were a dark shade of blue flecked with amber that should have made them warmer than his father’s. But the cool distance in his regard set her on edge. What did he want from her?
Had he called her here so he could foist the party planning off on her? Which would be fine because Dylan didn’t look like a guy who had a clue about anything fun or joyous. His button-down was buttoned up, and his bow tie—a red one this time—was perfectly knotted at his throat.
She sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and gave him the mildest look she could manage. Years of living with Cody had taught her how to hide her emotions and put on a blank look. Having a poker face had been a hard, but useful, skill to learn.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his swivel chair, “what do you think about this whole wedding idea?”
What did she think about the wedding? Hadn’t she been clear last night? She was happy for Mom. She opted not to say a word because this guy might be playing some kind of game with her. Cody had been so good at playing games. Trapping her with her own words. Better not to say anything that could be used against her later.
“You don’t know?” Dylan asked into her silence, his voice inching up a little.
She stared at him mildly but remained silent.
He stared back, almost unblinking. “You don’t have any thoughts on this at all?”
She studied him before answering. He was so corporate. Curly hair cut short, broad brow, probing stare, square jaw. A lot of women would find him attractive, but he was most definitely not her type. But he didn’t look brotherly either.
Maybe she should have never prayed for a sibling back when she was eight years old. This had to be a case of God laughing at her.
“Look,” she finally said, “I think I made it clear last night that I’m happy for my mother. And happy that Jim loves her. I gather you don’t feel that way. If that’s the case, then—”
“No, it’s not the case. I mean, yes.” He stopped and took a big breath. “If Dad wants to have a lady friend, that’s fine. But to get married. At his age—” He bit off the last words but needn’t have bothered.
Ella straightened her shoulders, irritation firing her synapses. “So what is it? Don’t you think my mother is good enough for your father to marry?”
He blinked. “Well, no, actually.”
OMG. Did Mom know he felt this way? Probably not. And Ella was not about to tell her that Dylan didn’t think she was good enough. His opinion of Mom didn’t matter. And she, for one, didn’t really want him helping to plan this party.
She stood up. “Okay, we’re done. I’m happy to plan the party without you. I’m sure that’s what you want me to do.” She turned toward the door.
“Wait.”
She kept walking.
“Did you know that Dad plans to move into Cloud Nine?” Cloud Nine was the name Mom had given her beach house out on Paradise Beach. “I think they want you to move out.” Dylan hurled the words at her like sharp, pointy arrows.
Ella froze in front of the door. Mom wouldn’t do that? Would she?
* * *
The minute the words left Dylan’s mouth he knew they’d hit their mark. Ella stood still, her back to him, shoulders stiffening. A tiny mote of remorse trickled through him, and for an instant he thought about a beautiful butterfly being ruthlessly pinned to a display board.
Was he that cruel? Evidently so. But he needed an ally, and who better than Brenda’s daughter, who had abandoned her own mother for years? Surely she would understand his misgivings, if he could get her to understand all the implications. But he had to play this carefully.
“Look, I’m sorry if that hurt you, but my father is definitely moving into your mother’s house. He told me so.”
Ella turned, her blue-gray eyes a little brighter than they had been before. She was good at hiding her emotions, but not perfect. “So that part about them wanting me to move out…” Her voice trailed off in a question mark.
“Conjecture. But I’m sure it’s true. Dad hasn’t brought your mother over for a sleepover. We share a house, you know, and he’s never been comfortable about that sort of thing with me there. So…”
She nodded. She was listening to him now.
“And besides, we both know the beach house has only one bathroom and paper-thin walls,” he continued, pressing his point. “Even if they don’t ask you to move out, are you prepared to stay?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was so small and soft.
“You know what? You shouldn’t feel especially aggrieved, because when Dad moves out, he’s probably going to sell the house I grew up in. So I’m going to have to find new living arrangements too.”
Her shoulders slumped a fraction. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said.
“I suppose I should have moved out a long time ago,” he admitted. He’d moved in after his residency when he’d decided to join his father’s medical practice. Until then he’d been living on his own, so he ought to be okay with the idea of his father selling the house. But he wasn’t.
His feelings about the house were not the main reason he was so opposed to Dad’s engagement to Brenda McMillan. Dylan was sure Brenda would break Dad’s heart, and Dad had suffered one too many broken hearts over the years. Mom’s death had destroyed him for a few years, and then Tammy Hansen swooped in and knocked him off his feet…until she dumped him four years later.
Tammy had been super needy, but nothing like Brenda. Even worse, since getting involved with Brenda, Dad’s personality had changed. He’d lost some of his drive. He was ignoring parts of the practice. He was giving up items on his bucket list.
In short, Dad was changing into someone Dylan hardly recognized.
He needed to stop this marriage before Dad woke up one day and realized he’d made a monumental mistake he couldn’t get himself out of easily. Breaking them up would be hard, but with Ella’s help, it might be possible. She couldn’t be happy about what was going on, could she?
“So, you see,” he said, following up on his advantage, “you and I are in the same boat.”
Ella stared at him for a good fifteen seconds before striding across the room and leaning on the chair back. “I can see that you actually believe that. But you know, aside from being asked to plan a party together, we don’t have anything much in common.”
“No? We’re both going to be homeless. And beyond that…” He paused a moment before continuing. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want to pry. But even though you went through the motions of being happy for them last night, I got the feeling that their announcement annoyed you.”
She blinked. Had he scored a point, or had he surprised her? “What I was feeling last night is none of your business.”
“No? Are you happy with your mother?”
“Am I happy with my mother, or for my mother? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“You know what I mean.”
She stood up straight, squaring her shoulders and giving him a look that could turn anyone to stone. “My relationship with my mother is none of your damn business.”
“Look. I don’t mean to offend. But we’re going to be part of the same family. So your relationship with your mother is my business. Everyone knows you and your mother had a falling-out. Didn’t you stay away for years? There had to be a reason for that, right? And now here you are finally reconnecting with her, and she’s pushing you away.”
“That’s not what she’s doing. She asked me
to plan her party. And if Jim wants to move into the beach house, that’s fine with me. So don’t try to tell me what I think or feel, okay?” She jutted out her chin, the picture of a devoted daughter. Wow, he hadn’t expected that.
He switched tactics, throwing more ammunition at her. “Don’t you think they’re a little old to get married?”
“Is there an age limit?” Her brows rose.
“No. I’m just saying that they’re too old to have kids, and if you’re okay with them living together, then why should they get married?”
“Because they’re in love?”
“Yeah, but when they break up, it would be so much easier without a bunch of lawyers and prenups and whatever.”
“Wow. You’re a real pessimist, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist. And I’m opposed to this wedding.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“I don’t want anything to do with planning this engagement party.”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself. It will be so much easier without you.” She captured his gaze. Something about the angry flush in her cheeks made his heart skip a beat.
“Don’t count on it being easier,” he said, meeting her angry stare with his own determination.
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m going to do everything I can to break them up.”
Chapter Three
Ella had to fight to keep her mouth from dropping open. “You’re insane. I’m going now.” She turned on her heel and rushed through the door. When she reached the sidewalk outside the doctor’s office, she stopped to get her bearings.
Now what? She jammed her hands into her jeans and stared up at the pale haze of spring green on the trees lining the street. She wanted to murder someone.
Starting with Doctor D.
But she had a bone to pick with Mom too. Why hadn’t she said one word about her plans? And did Jim really want her to move out of the beach house? She didn’t think so, but it would be a mistake to make assumptions either way.
She swallowed back the swelling lump in her throat. She was not going to cry right here on the sidewalk outside Doctor Dreadful’s office. Oh no. She was going to stay cool and calm and get to the bottom of this.
Although if Jim did want to move in with Mom, she wasn’t sure she’d be entirely comfortable living in the same place, sharing a bathroom with her new stepfather. She may have lied about that to Dylan, but hell if she was going to give him the lowdown on her feelings.
She started down Palmetto Street, walking with no purpose until her feet carried her toward Granny’s house. Just like that, the knot in her stomach eased.
Granny was sensible. Granny would know what to do.
Her pace quickened, and it occurred to her that, if Jim wanted to move in with Mom, Ella could always move in with Granny. There was a spare bedroom in Granny’s house, and now that her grandmother was getting older, it might be a good thing if Ella claimed it. She could keep an eye on her grandmother, and Mom could have some privacy. It was the perfect solution.
Take that, Doctor D.
She arrived at her grandmother’s house and stood on the sidewalk for a moment. Granny’s house wasn’t big or fancy but said “home” to Ella. Granny had recently fixed it up using the insurance money she’d gotten when a tree had crashed through her roof last December during a freak snowstorm. She’d painted it a pretty shade of yellow with cream-colored trim and forest-green shutters. A bright American flag fluttered on a pole attached to one of the porch columns, and Granny had already hung baskets of petunias that made a splash of deep purple against the yellow paint.
It reminded Ella of a vintage photograph or an old-time postcard. Ella had a weakness for postcards, especially since they were becoming obsolete. As a fiddler in a country-and-western band, she had spent months at a time on the road, eating in diners and gassing up at truck stops. At every stop along the road, she perused the postcard rack looking for the special ones.
For years, Ella’s only communication with Mom had been postcards sent from various places where the band had stopped to play. Mom had kept every single one of them, pinned to a corkboard in her kitchen. Mom loved her, and she loved Mom, no matter how rocky their relationship had been when she was a teenager.
Now Ella was trying her best to rebuild that relationship, and the last thing she needed was Dylan Killough butting his head into it and analyzing it or judging it or trying to use it. No, she was not going to let Jim’s son do that.
With that affirming thought, she hurried to Granny’s front door, which was never locked. “Hi,” she called as she stepped into the front parlor. “It’s me. Are you in the kitchen?”
“No, I’m here,” Granny said, coming down the stairs.
Granny was a pretty woman for someone in her seventies. She had stark white hair cut in a short spiky style and wore cool tortoiseshell glasses. Today her ensemble included a pair of designer jeans, nicely creased, and a blue and white boatneck T-shirt accessorized by a chunky red bead necklace, matching earrings, and red canvas shoes. Granny had a style all her own.
“Hey, darlin’,” Granny said, coming across the parlor with her arms outstretched. “What brings you here?” Granny enveloped her in a big hug.
Ella let herself savor the contact for a long moment—the loving touch across her back and the scent of Yardley’s lavender that followed Granny everywhere.
“I assume you’ve heard the news?” Ella stepped back.
“About Brenda and Jim?”
Ella nodded.
“I have. And I’m surprised.”
“Surprised? Why?”
Granny shrugged. “To be honest, I’ve always worried that your mother is too much like me. I never thought she’d allow another man into her life.” Granny turned toward the kitchen. “Want some sweet tea?”
“Sure.”
Ella followed her grandmother into the brand new kitchen at the back of the house, with its shiny white cabinets and a quartz countertop. Ella sat in one of the kitchen stools while Granny pulled down a couple of glasses and poured tea from a pitcher in the fridge.
A bright marketing brochure featuring pictures of older people playing golf and tennis lay on the counter. Ella picked it up. THE BEST IN SOUTH CAROLINA ACTIVE LIVING was printed across the top of the brochure in a fancy script typeface.
Ella studied the marketing spiel all about lifestyle amenities at the Bayview Vistas development, which ran the gamut from art classes to Zumba lessons. She turned the page and found herself staring at glossy photos of various condo floor plans, each featuring a sizable “lanai.”
Did people have lanais in South Carolina? It seemed such a Pacific Coast concept. Down here, people had screened porches and verandas.
“Granny, what’s this?” Ella asked, just as her grandmother settled on the kitchen stool beside her.
“I’ve put down a deposit on one of those condos.”
“What?” Ella’s stomach flipped over as a horrible sense of loss slipped through her.
“I’ve decided to sell the house,” Granny said.
“But why?” Ella’s voice cracked with emotion. How could Granny sell this house?
“Oh, hon, I should have sold this place years ago. I’ve been living here with my sad memories of your granddaddy for way too long. I don’t know, maybe seeing Brenda and Jim get together made me think I needed to move on with my life, quit using grief as an excuse, and get on with living what’s left of the years I’ve got. When that tree fell on the roof last December, it shook my foundations.
“Look here,” Granny continued, pulling the brochure toward her and flipping pages. “This is the model I bought. It has an open floor plan and a big master bedroom with an en suite bath and a walk-in closet. I’ve never had an en suite bath or a walk-in closet ever.”
Ella blinked down at the floor plan for the one-bedroom condo as her plan for moving into Granny’s spare room went up in smoke. “So, w
hen is this happening?”
“They have one ready for me to move into right away. I was just fixing to call your mother to let her know the news. I’m going to need some help packing. But I reckon it’s a good thing I did a lot of downsizing before the contractors came in here last January.
“Once I move into my new place, I’m putting the house up for sale. I’ve already talked to Bobby Don down at Berkshire Hathaway. He seems to think I’m going to make enough from the sale of this old place so that I won’t have to worry about money for the rest of my life.”
“That’s great, Granny,” Ella said, trying to sound enthusiastic. This development was like a gigantic fly in the ointment of her life. She wouldn’t be able to move in with Granny, but that was a minor point. She couldn’t stand the idea of some stranger living in this house. If she had the money, she’d buy Granny’s house right now. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a job and wasn’t creditworthy, thanks to Cody and her own foolishness.
Homelessness loomed large in her future unless she was willing to make good on what she’d just told Dylan—that she was fine with Jim living in the same house. And really, what was the problem with that, anyway? Hadn’t she shared space in the tiny RV with the boys in the band all those years on the road?
She didn’t care about the lack of privacy, but she hated the idea of Jim getting in between her and Mom. After all the years apart, Ella had come to enjoy sharing the house with Mom these last few months. Jim would be like an interloper or something. Which was an ugly thought she immediately repressed. She loved Jim. He was a great guy. His son, not so much.
“Maybe I should call your mom right now,” Granny said, pulling Ella from her thoughts. “I figure she’s at the store. Maybe she can come on over for dinner, and we could talk about her engagement party and my moving plans. What do you say?”
Ella nodded. “Sure. I need to consult with her about the party anyway because Dylan’s made it clear he doesn’t want to help.”
* * *
Granny’s surprise move took up a lot of discussion time once Mom got off work and joined Ella and her grandmother for dinner. Mom wasn’t all that happy about this surprise news, mostly because she was stressing out about the wedding and needed Granny’s lifestyle change like a hole in the head.