Chapter Twenty-Seven
twenty-seven
Ridley
Ridley and Bea stood in the doorway as the car went down the street, taking a whirlwind of laughter, perfume and boisterous voices with it. And like people who marveled at a tornado that blew through their whole neighborhood but somehow left their house standing, they were both shell-shocked. When the rear lights finally disappeared, they exhaled.
Bea stepped back into the hall. She had a huge smile on her face. Ridley smiled back. It had been a really, really long time since that many people were inside their home. In fact, the last time was at Thyra’s repast. It had been longer since they’d hosted Thyra’s small get-togethers or a lively group of Bea’s girlfriends or even had Dash, Maeve and their kids over for dinner. And now, in Bea’s exuberance, Ridley saw how much that had affected her.
“They were fun,” Bea said happily. “Lanie said you guys are plane buddies.”
Is that what she called it? “Pretty much.”
They went back into the kitchen to start cleaning up. Speaking of tornadoes, it looked like one had hit his kitchen. There were plates, cups, potato chip bags, food wrappers, soda cans and water bottles strewn everywhere. If he hadn’t seen them with his own eyes, Ridley would have thought Bea hosted a party for a gaggle of her school friends while he wasn’t home.
“We couldn’t figure out what to eat. Melanie’s friend Shanice said she was still eating for two. Then it took us a while to settle on pizza,” Bea explained, seeing her father’s face.
Ridley chuckled, pulling out the garbage bin. “It’s okay, sweetie.”
He’d been surprised when Lanie called to say she’d found Bea home alone. Mrs. Handa was supposed to still be there for another few hours and Bea wasn’t supposed to be home until later from soccer practice herself.
“She’s pretty too,” Bea said.
“Who?” Ridley couldn’t tell if this was a fishing expedition or just an observation.
“Melanie, of course.” Bea took an exasperated tone.
“What? There were five women here. Specificity, Bean, we’ve discussed that before. When you can, be specific.” He was being evasive.
“I think Melanie is very pretty, Father.”
Ridley smirked with his back to her. He debated his response while washing the dishes. He supposed Bea knew eventually he might start dating again. But a little under three years after her mother’s death, was she ready to see it? Shit, was he ready?
“Yes, she is. They all were.” He turned to gauge her response.
“Don’t objectify women, Dad,” Bea said, stuffing things into the bin.
He snorted. “You asked.”
She took a long-suffering breath. “You had her bag. Why?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Bea shook her head. “She left it in your uncle Dash’s car. Remember, I told you he picked me up from the airport? Well, I should have said he picked ‘us’ up. She was there too.” Ridley watched Bea carefully. “She’s just a new friend, Bea. That’s all.”
Bea exhaled, visibly relieved. Ridley smiled at his daughter, and she smiled back.
And that is definitely the truth , Ridley reminded himself. Regardless of how it had begun to feel.
The Sky Garden was like a giant greenhouse five hundred feet in the air. Taking up the top three floors of a thirty-eight-story office building, it was a glass-enclosed public park and restaurant space. Ridley had heard about it but never visited it before. He hadn’t wanted to impress Lanie when he very casually suggested meeting up in the breathtaking space. But with a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of Metropolitan London out floor-to-ceiling windows, with lush trees, flowers, ferns and succulents inside, it would definitely seem to Lanie like he was. And overlooking Tower Bridge and St. Paul’s Cathedral outside, he was eager to see what she thought.
Lanie arrived, dressed in a bulky turtleneck sweater, blue jeans and a pair of sneakers. Looking down at his dress shirt, tie and slacks, Ridley worried that they’d gotten their wires crossed. Watching her marvel at the three-story atrium, however, it was clear he hadn’t gotten that wrong. She was impressed. Even if that was only one of the feelings warring on her face.
“Hey,” he said after he’d flagged her down. She’d slowly, quite possibly reluctantly, come to join him.
Ridley slid a hand over her shoulder in greeting, pulling her chair out for her. Again, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, but she seemed to edge away as she seated herself. He reviewed their interaction at the house again. Though the group of people with them had prevented any real discussion, he realized for a second time that her remoteness might not be his imagination.
“We okay?” he asked as she sat across from him.
The waiter came and poured water into their empty goblets but moved away quickly with a tight smile for Ridley, feeling the chill at the table.
Lanie’s usually expressive face was a mask. “What makes you ask that?”
His hackles rose. Thyra would make him guess what he’d done wrong. That wasn’t a dynamic he had any interest in revisiting. So, what she wouldn’t do was lie in his face. “Playing coy doesn’t suit you.”
Lanie looked piqued, her already large doe eyes going wider. “Fine, what does ‘a little fun’ mean? Your friend Dash called me that.” Her tone was confrontational.
“When?”
“When you dropped me off.”
“Dash said that to you?”
Ridley knew Dash had said something unnecessary to Lanie when he wasn’t in the car. He could see that on her face. But if Dash had been inappropriate—something Ridley genuinely had difficulty imagining—a failure of imagination wouldn’t prevent him from having words with his best friend.
“No. He didn’t say it to me. He said it to you when I called you back. You answered the call and he said ‘she’s good for a little fun.’”
Ridley had wondered how much she’d heard. “No, he didn’t.”
Lanie’s hazel-brown eyes narrowed and if looks could kill, Bea would be an orphan. “He did. I heard him. He called me ‘a little fun.’”
Ridley nearly laughed at her expression but caught himself. Lanie didn’t look in the mood to joke. Adorable? Very . Murderous? Even more so .
“No, I promise, he didn’t.”
The waiter caught Ridley’s eye but Ridley shook his head discreetly.
“Don’t lie for him,” Lanie said, livid, her face warming to a florid red.
He exhaled, relieved this could be easily cleared up. “He called the Borough Market a little fun. As in, I was wondering if I should take you there the next time you came into town and he said, ‘You should. You could do worse for a little fun.’”
“Oh.” It was like all the air leaked out of a large and angry balloon; Lanie quite literally deflated. He hadn’t noticed it before but now he saw her go concave as if she were decreasing in outraged volume.
Why and how had every permutation of her face and mood become so riveting to him? When had it happened, that even her anger was attractive? “Is that what you’ve been angry about?”
He warred with a sense of amusement at how irritated she was, but maintained a straight face.
“I wasn’t angry.”
“Now who’s lying? You gave me the cold shoulder in my own house.”
She opened her mouth then closed it, pursing those pillowy lips at his challenging expression.
She tried again. “I was wonderfully pleasant there. Just ask your daughter.”
Ridley mirrored her when she cracked an arch smile. She had the best smiles, he’d noticed. “I did,” he challenged.
“And what did she say?” Lanie asked as if genuinely interested.
“That you were wonderfully pleasant...to her .”
Lanie let loose a peal of giggles as Ridley waved for their waiter, finally signaling him forward.