Fifteen #2
My apartment would have fit in the kitchen, and when I made that observation aloud, Cretia smiled and wrapped both arms around my one. I heard my name almost shouted and couldn’t contain the smile as Mr. Ward walked over and pulled me into a tight bear hug.
“You made it. I’m so pleased.”
When he pushed me out to arm’s length, I could tell he was sincerely pleased to see me.
“Come meet my wife.”
Mrs. Ward was a beautiful woman with a short silver bob, looking stylish in her black palazzo pants and black boat-neck sweater, the long diamond chandelier earrings a lovely touch.
She wanted me to call her Bette, and she too couldn’t seem to keep her hands off me, instead taking my hand and showing me her home.
She was impressed that I knew that the china in her glass cabinets was actually Limoge from France.
“Jory,” she said, looking into my eyes, “you’re full of useless information just like me, aren’t you.”
I laughed with her. “Pretty much.”
I sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter talking to her, and Cretia came in and assured me that not one of her children was allowed to do that.
“It’s because he’s so pretty,” Bette told her daughter.
“You are pretty,” Cretia agreed. “I wish I had your hair and your long eyelashes.”
“Such beautiful eyes.” Bette smiled warmly at me. “Like melted chocolate.”
“Oooh, Jory, you’ve got her waxing poetic.” Cretia giggled. “Better watch out, she’s gonna wanna adopt you.”
“That’d be all right,” I assured her.
“Why?” Bette was suddenly wary. “Where’s your mother, angel?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I forced a smile. “I never met her.”
The gasp was followed by her hand clutching my knee. “What happened?”
I told her about how I’d been abandoned, left with my grandmother to raise, and Cretia stayed instead of leaving.
When people came into the kitchen to say hello as more and more guests arrived, she shushed them and waved them away dismissively.
I watched the sheepish looks on their faces, but I went on with my story because she was riveted.
I spoke fast, in the same matter-of-fact way I had when I’d explained the circumstances to Dane years ago.
Before him, Sam, and now Mrs. Ward, I hadn’t talked about my mother in ages.
And all at once I realized that any sting that had been lingering from my childhood was gone.
It was weird to think that I had ever felt sorry for myself because of her leaving.
It seemed so insignificant a detail now.
I had rich, warm memories of growing up with my grandmother.
I wished I’d had more time with her; that was now my singular regret.
Bette Ward did not share my reaction. She leaned in close and put her arms around my waist. Cretia had tears in her eyes as I patted her mother’s back and rested my cheek in her hair.
“Jesus, what’s goin’ on in here?”
We all turned to the door, and there was a handsome man there looking at the three of us.
“Hi, Trip.” Cretia sniffled, smiling through her tears. “We’re just talking.”
“About what, Old Yeller? Watership Down?”
I chuckled and tipped Bette’s face up to me before I kissed her forehead. “You have a very soft heart, lady.”
She nodded before she let out a shaky breath. “Jump down and meet my son.”
I slid off the counter, and the man came forward to meet me. He had been looking at his mother and his sister, but finally I drew his attention.
“Hi,” he said softly, moving forward, holding out his hand for me to take.
I took his hand, liking the feel of the warm skin on mine. “Hey. I’m Jory.”
He nodded, and his gaze locked with mine. “Trip.”
“Really?”
He shrugged, still holding my hand. “What can I tell you? It’s a bad nickname that stuck. That’s why ya always gotta be careful with that kind of thing.”
“I’ll remember that.” I tried to release his hand. He tightened his hold, so I didn’t move.
“Are you the plastic surgeon or the tax attorney?”
His smile was broad, and his eyes crinkled. “You’ve been talking to my dad.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m going to be a surgeon, but as of right now, I’m still in the process.”
I nodded. “Well, he’s very proud of you.”
“I know he is,” he said, slipping his hand from mine, the other immediately going to my shoulder. “Did you get a drink?”
“No.”
“No?” He looked past me to his mother. “What is this, dehydrate-the-guest day? You have, like, eight other people without drinks out there, Mother. I told you before, you can’t be in here cooking—you must mingle. You’re the hostess.”
She smacked his arm as she passed him, touched my cheek, and left through the swinging door with Cretia right behind her.
“So did you really take my dad to a head shop?”
I grimaced, and he smiled as he led me out into the living room.
Colton met us and invited me over to meet his fiancée, Channing Sinclair.
Truman was right, she was very nice, and the way she looked at his son had to be very satisfying.
Her father came over to meet me, and her mother followed, then cousins and friends, and the faces quickly became a blur.
I was going to return to the kitchen, but when I tried, I was ushered back out and went to sit with Truman.
For whatever reason I was comfortable with him, and we started talking about landscaping.
I told him I would love to look at the backyard, and he took me up on my offer.
We walked out to the gazebo and then the rest of the way to the very edge of his property.
His neighbor was out with his family, playing croquet, so we both leaned over and talked awhile.
It was really nice, and I decided right there and then that someday I would own a house and have lovely neighbors as well. It had never occurred to me before.
When we got back it was time to eat, and I was seated between Cretia and Trip for dinner.
It was fun; lots of conversation between people who seemed to all genuinely like one another.
I had never experienced the whole family meal thing except for once before with Sam’s.
This family and their friends weren’t loud, and everyone sat down together, no kids running around, just eating, drinking, talking, and lots of laughing.
I was comfortable, and when Bette leaned over me, wrapping her arms around my neck, I let my head rest against hers.
“Mom?” Trip asked her.
“Your dad was right. I want to keep this one.”
“Sorry, man,” Trip said sadly. “I think you’re done for.”
“I like her,” I said, closing my eyes, leaning back, and letting her hold me.
“Come keep me company,” she commanded, and I got up and followed her into the kitchen, taking my plate with me.
I thought she’d have people there to do the cleaning, but no. She washed and I dried and then we abandoned our task to dance around the room. When Cretia came in, she was thrilled to find us swaying together.
“Oh, Mother,” she said suddenly. “Maybe Jory knows.”
“Maybe Jory knows what?” I asked, stopping our dancing to look at Bette.
“Darling, I’ve got to go to a reception tomorrow night, and they want me to get up and do the Electronic Glide.”
“The Electric Slide,” I corrected her and held out my hand. “Here, c’mere and I’ll show you.”
Her smile was mischievous, and Cretia watched us move to the middle of the floor as Cretia pulled up the song.
I had her doing the steps and turns in fifteen minutes, always having been a good dancer.
She was having a blast, and when Channing and Colton came in and joined us, I told them that we could all do the Hustle next.
Later, I went to get my coat out of the hall closet, and when I turned around Trip was there, not quite barring my exit, but he was close to me.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to work tomorrow for just a bit, and the last train’s coming pretty soon.”
“The train? You didn’t drive?”
I smiled at him, shaking my head. “No, I don’t have a car.”
“Stay,” he said seriously, hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take you home. I live in the city too.”
“Oh no, I don’t wanna put you out. I can just—”
His hand moved to the side of my neck. “You’re not putting me out, Jory.”
I nodded, and his hand slid to the nape of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair.
“In fact.” He smiled gently. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”
I tipped my head and looked at him. “Your dad said you’ve got women all over you, you just haven’t met the right one yet.”
“My dad sees what he wants, and so far, I haven’t been serious enough about anyone to bring them home.”
“Meaning a guy.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s right.”
I stepped back away from him. “Your old man really likes me. I am not gonna be the one to give him even a second of misery.”
He gave me a funny look. “Baby, you’re jumping the gun a little, aren’t you? Shouldn’t we screw around before we decide if you’re gonna be the one I’ll bring home to my folks?” The last was finished with a chuckle as he grabbed hold of the lapel of my coat.
Apparently, I did that a lot—jumped the gun because I thought a bit too much of myself. I’d done the same with Sam Kage.
Quickly, I brushed his hand off me before I jogged back into the living room.
I went to kiss Bette goodbye, and it was nice that she begged me to stay longer.
Truman got up and pulled me into a brief clench before he thanked me for coming and made me promise not to be a stranger.
Colton and Cretia both gave me their numbers, and Channing told me to call her the following day so she could get my address to invite me to her wedding.
It was nice that they all wanted to include me.
My phone vibrated, and I excused myself to answer it.
“Jory.”
“Hey, boss.” I smiled into the phone.
“Are you still in Highland Park?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because I’m in Parkridge, so if you want, I’ll come by and pick you up on my way back.”
Which translated to “I’m coming to get you” because he never offered unless he’d already decided what he was doing. He wasn’t hardwired to make overtures; if he ever made a suggestion, the answer just needed to be yes.