Rom-Com Collection

The walk back to the dock didn’t seem nearly as long as the walk in had. We didn’t talk. I was still trying to sort out what Ian had said, if there had been … something. He was not the easiest man to read.

The clouds were back, though a few shafts of gold pierced the lake. Rain was about an hour off, if I interpreted the signs correctly. Not that I ever did.

“Well. See you soon,” I said, looking at my kayak.

“Okay,” Ian said. “Need a hand?”

Ah, blushing. Ever reliable, those cheeks o’ mine. “Sure,” I said. He held out his hand, and I took it, and it sure did feel safer, that warm, strong hand holding mine. Alas, the second I was in the kayak, he let go.

“Next weekend’s the pet fair,” I reminded him. He stood on the rocks with his hands in his back pockets.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I’ll … I’ll call you, but everything’s pretty much in place,” I said.

“I’m sure it is,” he said, looking at me with those disconcerting blue, blue eyes. Say something, I urged him silently.

“Do you need a push?”

Not what I was hoping for. “Okay.”

And with that, he gave the boat a strong shove, sending me out past his dock.

“Thanks, Ian,” I called, giving him a wave.

“Nice seeing you,” he said, then turned and walked down the path, disappearing almost at once into the woods. I took a deep breath and started paddling uncharacteristically hard, both glad and relieved to be away from him.

You don’t have to try so hard. Not with me, anyway.

If it meant what I wanted it to mean, it was the nicest thing a man had said to me in a long, long time.

Then again, I was excellent at misinterpretation.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IN A VERY RARE MANEUVER, my sister came over one night. “Hi,” I said, opening the door as Bowie leaped and crooned. “Did someone die?”

“No,” she answered. “Why? Did someone die here?”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s just … you never come over.”

“Does that mean you’re thrilled to see me and want to pour me a glass of wine?”

“Yes! Yes, it does, Hes.”

“Keep it down!” Noah bellowed from the living room.

“We have company!” I yelled back.

“I don’t know how you live with him,” Hester said. “Dog, get off my leg or I’ll castrate you so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

“I’m trying to watch America’s Next Top Model!” our dear grandfather shouted. “Go upstairs, you two!”

“He’s very dedicated,” I told Hester, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge. “He thinks Tenisha’s going to win, but her pictures last week … train wreck.”

Hester sighed. “Callie, I need advice,” she said.

I paused as I reached for the glasses. This was new. “Um … okay. Sure. Let’s go up to my room.”

“Finally,” Noah muttered as we passed his chair. “Hello, Hester.”

“Hi, Grumpy,” she said.

“Takes one to know one,” he returned.

Upstairs, Hester sat on my bed, well aware of the ban on the Morelock chair, and poured herself a glass of wine ‘til it hit the brim. “How are you?” she asked, then chugged half the glass.

“Um, I’m good,” I said. “And you?”

“Great. Just great,” she said.

“So what can I advise you on, Hes?” I asked, sitting in my office chair.

“Bronte’s been having a rough time lately.”

I nodded. “More than just adolescence?”

“Well,” Hester said, “she says she feels like a misfit up here … adopted, mixed race, single mother, funeral home in the family.”

“Right,” I said.

“So this morning she comes down to breakfast and gives me a list of all the reasons she doesn’t fit in, from her skin color to that wonky toenail on her left foot.”

I smiled. “It’s always freaked me out, I’ll be honest.”

Hester smiled back a little, and then, abruptly, her eyes filled with tears. “So she said if there was one thing on the list that she could actually change, it would be having a single mother.”

“What?” I breathed. “She wants to be put back in foster care?”

“No, idiot. She wants me to marry someone.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah, that makes more sense.” Or not. “Wow, Hes.”

“I’ve tried so hard, Callie,” she wept. “You know. Don’t end up like Mom, avoid men, adopt a child who needs a home, be stable and normal and strict and loving, and here she shoots me right in my Achilles’ heel!”

“That’s what kids do, I guess,” I murmured, handing my sister a box of tissues.

“Exactly. All my life I haven’t needed a man. Never wanted to, because look how it fucked up Mom, right? Now my kid needs a father, and it just sucks!”