Kiss Me Goodnight #3
He stood and slammed the tailgate. “This from a man who spends his life on a tractor. It’s not too bad with the water on. Time to quit, though. Grandma has my lunch on the table. Gotta get to it before you do.”
Chad slapped him on the back. “Contrary to popular opinion, I have a wife at home who makes a perfect sandwich and most other stuff, too. I don’t need Grandma’s cooking anymore.”
Tom raised a brow. “You don’t need Grandma’s cooking?” He paused. “Blasphemy!”
“All’s I’m saying is that I’m not like you. I won’t starve to death anymore. You on the other hand…” He left the question open, a wretched teasing smile firm on his lips.
“I cook,” Tom defended himself. “That’s more than I can say for you.”
Tom walked over to the house and turned off the hose, setting the towels, car wash, and bucket next to the wall to be put away later.
He met his brothers on the porch where Chad greeted Bret.
Rick shrugged out of his suit jacket and loosened his tie.
“I make things,” Chad protested, continuing their discussion.
“Yeah. Peanut butter and jelly. And before Robin, your microwaves had a tendency to explode. I can feed myself without culinary disaster.” Tom just didn’t like to cook just for himself, and he was sick to death of his own company, hence the reason he ate here so much.
Visiting his grandmother chased away the loneliness, for both of them.
He didn’t say any of that, though. It would sound like whining and would make him a perfect target for meddling.
Olivia came up behind them, holding hands with both girls. “Where are Robin and Benjamin?”
“Baby was napping, so Robin wanted some rest time, too. The girls were going stir-crazy, so we took a drive. Had some business at the Feed n’ Grain anyway.” Chad reached to gently pull Lindy’s thumb from her mouth and gave her a stern look. She melted against Chad’s leg.
Tom pointed at Rick. “And what about you? No business today? Your three kids still at the other grandparents?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. They’ll be home tonight. I’m out for a break. Office is a zoo. Dad’s off today.”
Tom turned to stare at Rick. Surprise rippled through him. “He sick?”
Rick looked at him blankly. “Not that I know of.”
“He never takes a day off,” Chad added, separating Lindy from his leg and taking her hand instead.
Rick unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. “Well, he has lately. In fact, since November when he lost the prosecuting attorney election, he’s been taking at least one day off a week, sometimes two.”
Olivia took the steps one at a time. Bret reached out to help her. Boo followed her and somehow ended up holding Bret’s hand.
Olivia’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t know that. He never said anything.” Her words pulled Tom back to the conversation.
“Well, he and Mom have been going to tons of meetings for the new economic development program Mom proposed at the council meeting two months ago. Feasibility studies and all that. It’s wearing him out.
” Rick hesitated a moment, unfastening his cuffs and rolling them up.
“I got the feeling they aren’t exactly seeing eye-to-eye on the project. ”
Olivia swiped her hair off her face. “Let’s go to the kitchen where it’s cooler. We can talk about this more over a meal. You’ll need some lunch too.”
Rick yawned. “What I need is a nap, but I’ll settle for a sandwich and some chocolate cream pie?” The hope in his voice was laughable.
“Banana cream,” Olivia corrected.
He sighed, dramatically. “I guess I can settle for that.”
Tom snorted a mere second before Chad did. Moving past his brothers, Tom rounded the porch to the back of the house. He opened the kitchen door for his grandmother and waited for the rest to troop in. He sighed as the air conditioning hit him and shut the door against the baking heat.
When he turned, Rick and Bret were sitting at the table. Rick’s jacket was over the back of the chair, and he’d eaten half Tom’s sandwich. Tom shook his head, laughing silently. Some things never changed.
Olivia was already at the counter making more sandwiches. “Chad, you want a sandwich?”
“Sure.” Chad hung his dusty orange Applegate Farms baseball hat by the back door. “What about the girls?”
“I’ll make them peanut butter and jelly.” Chad moved to the sink to wash his hands, then got the items from the cupboard and proceeded to work beside her.
Tom sank into a chair across from his older brother, his stomach growling. He watched him take another juicy bite and mulled over the information about his father.
Two months ago, his mother, mayor of Echo Falls, proposed the town develop an art community to increase tourism.
Echo Falls had been a farming, ranching community for more than one hundred-fifty years.
Other than the reservoir and the campers and boaters the water attracted, there wasn’t any tourism to speak of.
What his mother had presented would drastically change the makeup of the community.
There’d been lengthy debate in the town paper, at the town meetings, and at several of the Sunday dinners in this very house.
Come to think of it, while his mother had been over-the-top enthusiastic, his father had been conspicuously quiet during most of those discussions.
“So what’s Dad up to?” Tom handed his brother a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table. Rick swallowed and wiped his mouth. “Not sure. I stopped by their house, but he’s not there.”
“Where do you figure he went?” Tom leaned back in his chair to allow his grandmother to set another plate with a sandwich and potato salad in front of him.
She paused with a hand on her hip. “You want a drink, Tom?”
“I’ll get it, Grandma.” Tom went to the refrigerator and retrieved the lemonade and ice, grabbing glasses on the way back.
Bret’s radio squawked, and Tom froze out of habit. Bret turned up the volume and listened for a minute, assessed the traffic stop being reported, and turned the radio down low again.
Tom poured drinks for everyone, stifling the work alertness and settling back into day off behavior. Olivia bustled back to the counter and made another sandwich for Chad and for herself. Chad easily enticed the girls with their plates of food into the family room for one of the kid’s movies.
“So, where did he go?” Tom took a healthy swig of his drink.
Rick shrugged and wiped the condensation from his can. “I have no idea.”
For as long as Tom could remember, any time his father wasn’t at work, he was at home weeding in his garden, puttering around their house repairing things, or attending some event that had to do with one of his children or grandchildren.
Tom picked up a fork and took a bite of potato salad. “Did you call Meg? Maybe he took her to lunch?” Meg was the only Applegate daughter and was very close to their father.
Bret finished off his sandwich. “I already asked her to go to lunch with me today. She had a teacher’s day at the high school to prep for school and couldn’t.”
“Did you ask Mom?”
Rick shifted in his chair. “No. I saw her at the courthouse and I just didn’t want to…I don’t know…rat him out if she doesn’t know.”
“He is allowed to have private time, you two.” Olivia sat next to Rick and laid a napkin in her lap. “Why do we need to know where he went?”
Chad joined them. “Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing. Could have gone to lunch with one of his friends or something. The fact is, he looked downright worn out last time I saw him. A few days to do as he pleases would be a good thing.”
Rick wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’d say the same thing, except for one thing.” He stopped for a minute, a debate over whether to tell them clear on his face.
“Spit it out,” Olivia commanded.
“Dad hasn’t taken a case since he lost the election. The only thing he did was visit Walter LeFey about four months ago and revise his will.”
“He did what?” Tom leaned forward in his chair. “Dad revised his will? How?”
Rick shrugged. “Don’t know. Couldn’t tell you if I did.
You’ll have to wait for the reading.” That meant waiting for Summer LeFey to call him so he could relay the bad news.
He’d left messages for two days now, but he refused to leave a death message with the housekeeper, and Summer had yet to return his calls.
Chad put down his sandwich. “Back to Dad. Not one case?”
Rick pushed back his chair. “No.”
Tom didn’t like the sounds of that or Rick’s brevity, as if he knew more and wasn’t going to say anything further even under threat of torture.
“Well that certainly makes things more perplexing.” Olivia chewed her lip in worry.
“I wish I hadn’t said anything.” Rick paused to take a bite of pie, swallowing with a groan.
“It’s just… I thought he’d be over that by now.
But he isn’t taking cases, and he won’t talk about it.
He’s been taking a day off a week for almost nine months now, and I have no idea what he’s doing.
I don’t think Mom knows. And Tara and I are overwhelmed with business and getting further behind. ”
“Well, there’s one way to find out.” Tom took the last bite of his sandwich and pulled his plate of pie to him. “Chad should ask her.”
Chad groaned. “I knew you were going to say that.”
Tom rapidly sorted through the options but didn’t come up with anything else. “Mom loves us all, but she talks to you, brother.”
“I agree,” Olivia said. “Chad should talk to her.”
The three of them looked at Chad, who shifted in his chair as if on a hot seat. He grimaced, opened his mouth to argue, then acquiesced. “All right. But I think Grandma should talk to Dad and find out what he’s up to. This is all probably nothing.”
The three men looked at Olivia. She shrugged. “Fine. I can do that.”
“Then it’s settled,” Tom said. “You’ll let us know?”
Chad and Olivia nodded.
“And when is Walter’s funeral?” Olivia stacked the sandwich plates from the table.