Chapter 19 #2
“Such a hard worker,” he says with a smile. “Just like your mother. You’re just as beautiful, too.” Then he chuckles. “But I don’t need a babysitter, kiddo.”
“Of course not, Dad. But you could use some friends.”
And this is her opening to tell him about Havenwood.
She focuses on the beauty of the grounds, the enrichment activities, their state-of-the-art medical services.
Then she explains that a spot there could be his this weekend.
If he wants it. He’d still have his independence, but also plenty of companionship.
Plus multiple dining options. Fitness centers. Physical therapy.
Noah.
At this, Harlan lights up. “Noah’s at Havenwood full-time now,” he tells her. “He’s directing their entire program, I think.”
“You’re right.” Loren nods. “Which means he won’t be able to work with you here at home anymore.
If you lived there, though, you’d see him all the time for your regular appointments.
Just like you do now. Except with better equipment.
” She hesitates for a moment, then goes on, spelling out the benefits plainly.
“Someone else would be doing the cooking and cleaning and laundry. No more setting off smoke detectors. And no stairs. Plus, you’d have people around you all the time. Which you love.”
“Huh.” He takes a beat, and Loren gives him time to process. “So we’d be paying Havenwood, and they’d be paying Noah.”
“Exactly.”
His glance skips over to his desk piled with papers and coffee cups. “And everything else is included?”
“Literally everything, Dad.”
She tells him if he’d like to see what living at Havenwood is like, he could bring his clothes and whatever personal items he needs—pictures, books, that kind of thing—but the rest of the household stuff would stay here, because his new place comes fully furnished.
“And you can even keep this house.” She smiles. “If you want.”
“I can afford that?”
“You can,” she says. “For now.”
I’m dying to jump in and tell Harlan he can keep this place forever as far as I’m concerned.
But I’m not a participant in this conversation.
And I can’t tell him I’ve got plenty of money to cover his costs.
He barely knows me, and he has no idea I’m his daughter’s legal husband.
Anyway, there’s no need to extend the talk of finances.
This moment is about the emotional component.
He looks around the room, surveying the space. The home where he raised his daughter, loved his wife, built a life. “So this will all still be ours?”
“Yes.”
“But I’d live at Havenwood.”
“You would, Dad. Yes.”
Loren shoots a glance my way, and Harlan follows her gaze over to me.
“Hey, there, big fella.”
“That’s my friend, Bridger,” she reminds him. “You’ve met.”
“I remember.” He cocks a brow. “He almost fell on me.”
“Sorry about that,” I say.
“You’ve been awfully quiet over there. Busy listening to my daughter talk.” His mouth quirks. “Believe me, I recognize that syndrome.”
A nervous laugh slips out of Loren. “What syndrome, Dad?”
“Operating under the influence of a pretty woman.”
I lift my palms. “Guilty as charged.”
“So.” He leans forward, appraising me. “I take it you’re an honest man, then.”
“I try.”
“In that case, what do you think about all this?”
I think you raised a brilliant daughter.
I think your wife couldn’t have had a better husband.
I think I want to be like you when I grow up.
“I think you deserve the best, sir. And I know that’s what Loren wants for you.”
“Sir. Heh. I like that.” Harlan chuckles, then he shifts his focus back to Loren. “I like this guy.”
“I do, too, Dad,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“So it appears the general consensus around here is that Havenwood would be a great opportunity.”
“Yes,” she says, cautiously. “But your opinion is the one that matters.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” He runs a hand over his chin, nodding. Processing.
It’s a lot to process.
After a minute of quiet, she says, “Do you have an opinion, Dad?”
He exhales, and his brow furrows. “My opinion is … I don’t want you worrying about me anymore, kiddo.”
“Dad, that’s not the—”
“It is, though.” He throws a hand up to cut off her protest. “My job is to make your life easier, not harder.”
She swallows, and I’m guessing every part of her wants to tell him she’d do anything for him. And that he doesn’t make her life harder. But that second part’s not true, no matter how much the first part is.
“In any case,” he continues, “it sounds like you’ve already done all the legwork for me.” He hitches his shoulders. “Apparently, all I have to do is show up with a suitcase or two and start living. Do I have that right?”
“If you want, Dad.”
He drops his gaze to his lap, tapping his knee with a fist. “And I can always change my mind, I suppose.”
“Dad, you’re the smartest man I know. You’ve always chosen wisely.” She lays a hand over his fist to stop the tapping. “I’m sure this situation won’t be any different.”
He loops his fingers through hers, and the room goes silent for a stretch. Then he lifts his face to hers. “I guess I’d have to be a fool not to at least give this a try.”
Loren expels a breath. “A try, yes. That’s exactly right.”
Later, after a lengthy discussion of move-in logistics, not to mention the completion of some online paperwork, Harlan sees Loren and me to the door. He gives her a long, tight hug, holding on like he never wants to let go.
Yep. I recognize that syndrome.
“I’m going to be fine by the way,” he says, when he finally releases her. “The smoke detector and I have made peace with each other, so there’s no need to worry.”
“I—”
“Bah.” He waves her away. “Don’t bother claiming you won’t fret over me for the next few days.”
She lets out a tiny laugh. “It’s like you know me or something.”
“Only for your entire life,” he says, eyes crinkling. “Anyway, I’ve got some packing to keep me occupied. And Noah will be coming by every night.”
“You’re right,” she says. “He will.”
At least now, the stab of jealousy is tempered by gratitude. If Noah’s presence over the next few days gives Loren peace of mind, that’s priceless. Her dad may still need him.
But she chose me.
I reach for his hand now and give it a shake. “We can drop off some boxes if you want, sir. For the packing.”
“That would be a big help,” he says. “But you better call me Harlan. You know, I’m not an old man, son.”
“Harlan it is.” I bob my head.
“And you’re Bridger, right?”
“I am.” I press out a laugh. “But feel free to call me son.”
This earns me a chuckle, then he flashes a wink at Loren. “Have I told you I like this guy?”
“Yeah, Dad.” she smiles. “You sure did.”