by Julia London
“That’s it,” Girt said, shoving her hands in her back pockets. “It’s gonna cost me around three thousand dollars a month for live-in care.”
Evan shook Girt’s hand again. “We’ll be in touch. Robin?” And he was already striding for the Cadillac.
Robin took Girt’s hand, squeezed it affectionately. “If we make the offer, I promise, we’ll keep the crew. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Thanks, Robin,” she said, the gratitude shining in her eyes. “I’ll e-mail you!” she called as Robin followed Evan to the car.
Robin waved out the window as they pulled out of the gravel parking lot; Girt had walked over to where David was sitting, and she waved, too, then lifted David’s arm in a mock wave.
“We can get this outfit for a fraction of its market value,” Evan remarked as they pulled out onto the main highway.
“We can?”
Evan snorted. “She’d sell it for just about nothing to do something with her kid.”
“Yes,” Robin said, feeling suddenly and inexplicably queasy, “she probably would.”
“The last thing she should have done was tell us what her bottom line was,” Evan said, chuckling.
Robin didn’t like that snide chuckle and never had. “Regardless of her bottom line, we would make her a fair offer, right?”
“Of course!” he said breezily, and reached for the radio, complaining that all one could get in Burdette was country western music.
Robin had thought that was part of the charm of the little town.
Back in Houston, she declined Evan’s offer for a drink, but he drove to a swank little bistro anyway, insisting she could spare the half hour it would take him to knock back a gin and tonic. While he sipped at the drink, he talked absently about the work he was doing on his mansion in Turtle Creek of Dallas, then said, “You’d be better off in Dallas, you know. Your roots are there, Rebecca’s there. Houston is an oil town, but Dallas is better suited to high commerce like you’re trying to get into.”
“Houston seems to work fine.”
“I’ve been talking to your dad about moving the southwest regional corporate offices from Phoenix to Dallas. There would probably be a spot for a new VP in charge of acquisitions. We need to do this nationwide, I think, and with more than just packing.”
The casual remark struck Robin as a bribe, and she was instantly reminded of what Jake had said just this morning. Her eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t be trying to get me to come to Dallas because of . . . you know . . . us, would you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Evan said with a snort. “I made that mistake once, but I rarely make the same mistake twice. I am just trying to consolidate. In case you haven’t noticed, the economy has taken a nosedive.”
Now, she just felt ridiculously full of herself. “Sorry,” she said with a faint smile.
Evan tossed back his drink, pulled out his wallet, and fished out some bills. “Okay, let’s go,” he said abruptly. “I’m gonna run some final figures through our corporate finance and then we’ll decide what we’re going to do. In the meantime, I could use some help in looking at the number of missed pickups down here in Houston. The rate is about twice as high as it is across the country. You should really be on top of that.”
“Sure, okay,” she said, coming to her feet, and had to walk quickly to keep up with him as they left the bistro.
He dropped her at home, made no effort to come in. Robin walked inside, put down her purse. The house was silent—the work crews had left for the day, which she had expected, given the late hour. But she had sort of hoped that Jake would be waiting for her.
He wasn’t.
She had a bath, thinking Jake would call anytime. When he didn’t, she picked up the phone and called his house. No answer. Then she tried his cell. It immediately rolled over into voice mail. “Oh, ah . . . hey,” she said, feeling suddenly awkward. “I, uh, I just got back from Burdette and was just calling to say hi. Well, okay, if you get this, maybe you can call me back?” Wincing, she quickly hung up. Where was he? Class, maybe, although the semester was drawing to a close. His mom’s? Who knew? At the moment, her stomach was growling, and she headed to her almost completed kitchen, rummaged around until she found a can of tuna and some crackers. A veritable feast, Batman.
She ate half of a bland tuna salad, then wandered onto the back terrace and switched on the porch fans. She took a seat on one of the chaise lounges, watched the pink flamingos swaying in the evening breeze.
When the phone started to ring, she almost killed herself trying to get out of that stinking chaise, and burst through the French doors of the dining room, grabbing the phone on the fifth ring.
“Hello?”
“Robbie, its Dad.”
“Hey, Dad!” she said, brightening. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“How is the chemo going?”
He groaned. “The way chemo always goes—I’d rather jump off a cliff.”
“But what are they saying? Are you going to be okay?”
“Robbie—” He paused, sighing. “I don’t know. We’ll see. They want to try this once more along with some drug therapy. Of course your mom is into the spiritual path and is threatening more herbal therapy if this doesn’t work, so do your old man a favor and keep your fingers crossed.”
She’d do more than that. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about you, wondering how you were.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking a lot about you, too. I’m coming out to the ranch next week and I want you to come, too. We’ll be getting into town next Wednesday after my last treatment. I want you there Thursday. Bring Evan if you want.”
Okay, she’d let that one slide. “I’ll be there. I am sure I can work it out.”
“So you think that handyman will let you go?”
The question stunned her. “W-what? What did you say?”
“Don’t play dumb. That handyman you’re fooling around with.”
“I’m not fooling around with anyone—”
“When I said I wanted you to stop and smell the roses, I didn’t intend for you to take up with the first workman that walked through your door.”
Robin’s heart started pounding so hard she thought it might explode in her chest. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks for the clarification. You weren’t explicit enough about who I was to date and when. So, what, does Grandma have a hotline in to your hospital bed?”
“Lil? I haven’t talked to Lil!” He said it so gruffly that he started coughing, wheezing into the phone. “Shit,” he said to himself.
Evan. Evan and his big damn mouth . . . Dad’s cough grew violent, and though she was fuming, Robin could not bear to hear him like that. “Sorry, Dad,” she said quickly. “Look, we’ll talk when you get here, okay? Can we do that?”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding noticeably weaker. “I’m looking forward to seeing you, Robbie-girl.”
He had a very peculiar way of showing it, she thought bitterly.
Dad wheezed again. “I’ll see you soon,” he said hoarsely and hung up as another spasm of coughing hit him.
Robin ran through a few choice words for Evan as she carried the phone with her and wandered back out onto the terrace to resume her seat. A full moon, big as a platter, was just beginning to rise, and she thought of that lovely day she and Jake had gone to see the wildflowers.
The phone shattered her dreamy state of contemplation.
“Hey, baby.” Jake sounded exhausted.
“Jake! How are you?”
“Okay. How was Burdette?”
“Great. I think Girt and Evan hit it off.”
“That’s good,” he mumbled, obviously distracted.
“I didn’t see you this morning before I left. Your truck was gone—”
“Yeah, I ran into a little trouble. Cole managed to get himself arrested.”
Robin caught her breath; a flash of untold horrors raced through her mind. “What happened?”
Jake’s sigh was heavy, full of emotion. “He and another kid cut class, went down to the levee and smoked a joint.”
“Oh man . . .” Her disappointment was, surprisingly, quite intense. She hadn’t realized she cared so much what the kid did. “Why? Did he say why?”
“No. He won’t talk about it. I . . . I was hoping maybe you could help me out here. At least he’ll talk to you.”
Robin was already standing. “Are you at home? I’ll come over.”
“Thank you, Robin,” Jake said, and she could hear the relief in his voice.
In truth, Jake was at his wit’s end. He had gone round and round with Mom on the subject of Cole—her insisting it was Jake’s fault for not paying more attention to the boy like he had promised, and he insisting she made matters worse in always trying to assess blame. That got them nowhere fast, and feeling the frustration of the situation, Mom next laid into Cole in that biting way of hers she had perfected through the years. The end result was a tight-lipped, surly Cole who refused to answer or do anything they asked of him. As a last resort, Jake had gathered up a few of his things, tossed them in an overnight bag, and ordered him to the truck. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Cole sneaking out—the Heights were too far from anything Cole knew.
“I don’t want to go to your house! That’s like another state!” Cole had complained.
“No choice, bucko. You made that decision when you smoked pot.”
“You treat me like a kid. I’m almost fifteen!”
“That’s because you act like a kid. When you stop acting like it, I’ll stop treating you like one,” Jake had shot back. They had ridden in frosty silence across Houston; when they reached Jake’s house, Cole went to the room he used on occasion and slammed the door so hard that it almost came off its hinges.
When Robin arrived, she immediately asked where he was.
“In his room,” Jake said.
Robin looked at the closed door. “Do you have a quilt or a blanket?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, confused, “but what does that—”
“Humor me,” she said.
Jake fetched the quilt.
Robin smiled, gathered it against her chest, then lifted up on her toes and kissed him. “Go get a beer somewhere.”
“Are you kicking me out?”
“Yes. Go on. Come back in an hour or so.”
Jake looked at the closed door, shook his head. “I don’t know if that is a good idea.”
“Do you have a better one?”
Touché. “Okay, fine,” he said and grabbed a jacket and his helmet. “But I will be back in an hour—”
“and a half—”
“—and if he hasn’t straightened up by then, I’ll . . . Shit, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Robin gave him a patient smile, motioned toward the door. “Go on.”
“Fine,” Jake muttered irritably and stalked out the door, feeling completely helpless. At the local watering hole, he nursed a beer and brooded about the situation, coming to no conclusion, other than the fact that he and Cole might as well be speaking Chinese. They were that far apart, on opposite ends of the world. And he hated involving Robin in this ugly little family matter—he would just as soon she never know how truly dysfunctional they were. But for some reason, she was the only one Cole seemed able or willing to talk to. Nonetheless, he didn’t like the thought of her exposed to the surly little monster for too long, and left his beer unfinished, heading back home after one hour.
The house looked asleep when he parked his bike in the old detached garage. He walked around to the front door, paused there, listening for where the two of them might be. Silence. Robin’s car was in the drive, so they hadn’t gone anywhere. Jake wandered through the house, checking the various rooms and finding no one. Cole’s room was empty. So was his. In the kitchen, he scratched his head, tried to think of where they might be, and then noticed the back door was ajar.
He walked to the door and pulled it open, peering out the screen door to the darkened backyard, trying to see in the shadows.
When he saw them, his breath caught in his throat and he felt a wave of intense longing come over him.
On freshly mowed grass, Robin had stretched a quilt, and she and Cole were lying on their backs on it, side by side, staring up at the stars, pointing to various things in the sky. Jake watched them, blinking back the sting in his eyes, wondering how she had known to bring Cole something so simple and so comforting, how she had lured a boy on the verge of manhood to a child’s pleasure. After several minutes, he pushed open the screen door and walked outside, down the steps of the back porch, and across the lawn.
“I see it!” Robin exclaimed, pointing to the east. “See it? It looks like a hat or something, see it?”
“That doesn’t look like a hat!” Cole scoffed.
“Then what?”
Cole considered it for a moment. “Uncle Jake’s nose.”
He and Robin laughed together. Jake said nothing as he reached the quilt, just lay down next to Robin. She gave him a gentle pinch in the side. “Your turn, Cole.”
And Cole, either over his anger or oblivious to Jake, began to call out what shapes he saw. “I see a train . . . a basketball hoop . . .”
Jake slipped his hand into Robin’s. She laughed at Cole claiming to see a Coke bottle, then said, “Okay, Jake. Your turn.”
He looked up, saw a canopy of stars. “I see a moon,” he started.
“No fair!” exclaimed Cole.
“Wait . . . it’s coming to me. A Harley,” he added, to which Cole laughed. “And a heart . . .”
The three of them lay there until the dew began to form beneath stars Robin said were there to show them how high they could dream.
It was over dinner several days later that Jake learned the root of Cole’s distress was the girl, Tara, the object of his obsession. She had, once again, decided she liked another boy and it had devastated Cole. It was that slimy little Frankie who had given him the news, then had talked him into going down to the levee to smoke a joint. God, but Jake hated that kid.
“You have a way with him that I can’t match,” Jake told Robin. “He’s lucky to know you.”
She blushed prettily, absently twirled her spaghetti around a fork. “It’s funny. I hardly know him, really, but I think I’d do just about anything to help him. He’s such a good kid. A little lost, but a good kid inside. And sensitive.” She glanced up at Jake. “Like you.”
Now it was Jake’s turn to blush. “He’s not sensitive. He’s senseless.”
“You know what would be good for him? My family’s ranch. He’d really like it—there are horses and cows and dogs. It would get him out of Houston for a long weekend, anyway. And it would give you a chance to bond with him a little. We could go this weekend.”
“Yeah?” Jake said, mulling the idea over. He’d never been to a ranch, but he sort of thought it might do him a bit of good, too. “You know, that sounds like fun.”
“Then you’ll bring Cole and come with me?” she asked.
Jake nodded. “Yes. Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”
“There’s only one little catch,” she said, dropping her eyes to her plate again.
“What’s that?”
“My dad is going to be there.”
Okay, maybe not such a great idea after all.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Aaron’s insides felt gummy, like everything had melted together. Still battling the effects of the latest round of chemo, he tried to make himself comfortable in the oversized wicker armchair on the veranda as he waited for Robin to arrive. But he wasn’t having much luck—even the iced tea he was drinking made him queasy.
He really needed to lie down, but Aaron was anxious to see Robin, especially after talking to Evan. Of all his daughters, Robin was usually the first one to heed his advice and take it to heart. Evan said Robin was really coming along, pouring herself into her work and learning everything she could about the c
ompany she was about to acquire. Working from home was good for her—she wasn’t traveling as much, and what traveling she did do was focused entirely on this acquisition.
Evan said she was growing as a person. Evan said she was doing great. Evan said the one thing that seemed a little off was her infatuation with the handyman.
When her Mercedes turned onto the drive, Aaron’s heart did a little flutter of anticipation, and he hauled himself to his feet, adjusted the baseball cap that hid a frightening loss of hair. As the car drew nearer, he could see a man was driving, and he smiled to himself. Evan had made the trip after all. Good. That would give him the chance to review a few things with him.
But as the Mercedes coasted to a stop on the circular drive, Aaron’s eyes narrowed. That wasn’t Evan. That wasn’t even close to Evan.
Robin bounded out of the car, came running up the steps to throw her arms around him, causing him to grimace with pain.
“Dad, I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed, and reared back, peering up at him, the shock of his appearance evident in her blue eyes. “Are you all right? You look tired. Do you want to sit down?”
“You don’t need to baby me,” he said gruffly and ran a shaky hand over the top of her dark head. “Good to see you, kid.”
She smiled a brilliant, dimpled smile that reminded Aaron of his mother. He smiled, too, but it faded the moment he saw the man come up on the steps of the veranda.
Slowly, he turned his head, took the man in, from the tips of his steel-toed boots to the top of his sandy-brown hair. He was tall, an inch taller than himself, probably six feet two, maybe more. And a big man, muscular—Aaron would have guessed him a football player at some point in his life. He was also a good-looking fellow, there was no denying that. No wonder Robin had experienced such a tremendous lapse in judgment.
“Dad,” she said, her voice betraying her nerves, “this is Jake Manning. And his nephew, Cole.”
That was the first Aaron had even noticed the kid.
Manning stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lear. I’ve heard an awful lot about you.”