Terry McLaughlin - A Small-Town Homecoming

“Nonsense. We’ve more to do-and more reasons to do it-than ever.” Geneva poured herself a cup of tea. “Although I must admit this project has turned out to be more of a challenge than I’d expected.”

Tess laughed sourly. “Your talent for understatement never ceases to amaze me.”

“And your capacity for passion has never failed to disappoint me.” Geneva continued. “So why do I get the feeling you’re not as angry over what has happened or as determined to see this through as I thought you’d be?”

“I don’t know. It’s the shock, I suppose.” Tess rolled her head more comfortably against a pillow and closed her eyes. “I’m just so tired.”

“I’ve heard depression can sap one’s energy.”

“I’m not depressed. I just-I haven’t had much sleep lately.”

The clock on the mantel chimed its deep, metallic bong, marking another hour of her life. Tess had always loved that sound, but tonight it seemed…

Depressing.

She shifted on her side and studied her grandmother. “Did you love Grandpa, Mémère? Always? Even toward the end, when he was so sick?”

“Not in the same way. He wasn’t the same man at that point.” Geneva sighed and smoothed a hand over the soft throw on her lap. “And anything I may tell you about my relationship with your grandfather has nothing at all to do with you and Quinn. You’re two different people.”

“He’s an alcoholic, Mémère.” Tess rolled to her back and stared at the beamed and plastered ceiling. “I swore I’d never get involved with a man who had that problem.”

“Had is a word in the past tense. And it’s another convenient excuse.”

“Why are all excuses convenient?” Tess’s eyelids drifted shut. “Why can’t they be excellent, or justified, or brilliant?”

“I suppose I should sit quietly and be supportive,” Geneva said impatiently, “or serve as a sounding board while you work your way through your quandary. But I’ve never enjoyed that particular role in any relationship.”

“This isn’t just a relationship,” Tess said. “I’m your granddaughter.”

“And that’s why I’ve tolerated your foolishness for as long as I have this evening.”

Tess sat upright and faced her grandmother. “I’m trying not to be foolish. I’m trying to consider everything that could possibly go wrong.”

“And looking for reasons-or excuses-to back out of the first serious love affair you’ve had for years.”

“Maybe that’s what I want to do, deep down inside.” Tess stared at the clock, unable to face her grandmother’s stern gaze. “Back out of this.”

“Would that make you happy?”

“No. Not now. But maybe, in the future, I’ll be glad I took some time to think about this.”

“You’ve had several months to think about this,” Geneva said as she lifted the cup to her lips.

“I haven’t been thinking about marriage.”

“No. But you’ve been thinking about the man.” She paused for a sip. “What do you think of him, Tess?”

“What do you think of him, Mémère? And please, don’t tell me it’s none of my business. Or that this is none of yours. I want to know. Why did you hire him to do this job?”

“Because I believed he’d be strong enough to stand up to you.” She set the tea aside. “And because on the surface, he appeared to be exactly the wrong man for you, so I didn’t worry you’d be suspicious about my real motives.”

“What do you mean, your real motives?”

“I may be an old lady, Tess dear, but I’m not blind. Quinn is a handsome, virile man. A caring father who values family, from what I’ve observed.”

“Mémère.” Tess fell back against the cushions, shocked to her core. “You hired a stud for your own granddaughter.”

“I’m glad you agree about the stud factor. I told you, I have a great deal of experience reading people. Close your mouth, Tess dear. It’s unattractive to let your jaw hang open like that.” Geneva flapped a hand in Tess’s direction. “As you told me yourself, I can be one hell of a scary lady.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll get the results you want,” Tess told her steely spined grandmother with a grin. “You always do, Mémère.”

QUINN SAT on his sofa that night, cushioned by pretty pillows, his daughter tucked beside him.

“Dad. Talk to me.” Rosie pulled the remote from his hand and switched off the television. “You can say anything. You can’t say anything worse than stuff I’ve already said to myself, a dozen times.”

“That sounds familiar.”

She shrugged. “I probably heard it on TV. On one of those sappy family shows. The ones with the perfect parents and the perfect kids.”

“No one would watch a show like that.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“That sounds familiar, too,” he said. She pinched him, hard. “Ow,” he said, rubbing his arm.

“You’re upset about Tess, right?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “How’d you know?”

“Lately, everything is about Tess.”

“That’s not right,” he said, frowning. “Everything is supposed to be about you.”

Rosie shifted away with a disgusted snort. “No wonder you’re having problems.”

They sat in silence for a while, and then she began to twist the ring Tess had bought for her on one of their afternoon shopping trips. “Maybe this is about me,” she said. “About me and Tess. And you and Tess. About the three of us.”

“The three of us?”

Twist, twist, twist. “Do you love her?”

“Yeah,” he said with an unhappy sigh. “I do.”

“Does she love you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know why she would, but-yeah.” He shrugged away the hurt. “I’m pretty sure she does.”

“Dad.” Rosie shifted to face him. “This is awesome.”

“It is?”

“Of course it is. Now you can marry her, and we can go live in her house, and I can get a dog, and she can pick me up every day from school and-”

“I haven’t asked her to marry me yet.”

“Well, are you going to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Dad.”

“Rosie.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, fuzzy with exhaustion and humming with nerves. “This is important. I can’t just ask someone to marry me so we can live at her house and get a dog.”

“So ask her because you love her.”

It sounded like a good idea, but maybe sleep deprivation and stress were twisting his thought processes like warm taffy. Tess might turn him down, but what did he have to lose by asking, except a chance to be with her forever?

Tess. Being with Tess forever was worth just about anything he’d have to do to get her to say yes.

“What about you?” he asked his daughter.

“Don’t worry. I love her, too, Dad.”

God, he was getting tired of this tendency toward hot, dry lumps in his throat. Unable to speak, he lifted his arm and dropped it around Rosie’s shoulders to pull her closer.

“Dad.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.

“Yeah.”

“Let go. You’re acting like one of those sappy dads on TV.”

He gave her one last squeeze before releasing her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t think we’re ever going to be one of those sappy families.”

“Not while Tess is around.” Rosie gave him what looked suspiciously like a sappy grin. “She won’t let us.”

QUINN STOOD outside Tess’s office the next day, a bouquet of long-stemmed blue flowers in one hand and a cup of syrupy coffee in the other. He wished he had a ring, but he wanted to get the proposal out of the way first. Besides, Tess would be so picky about what he put on her finger he was safer letting her choose it.

The lady had great taste. Whatever she selected would likely bite a pretty big chunk out of his savings, but he had no doubt it would be the prettiest ring in the shop. He’d enjoy seeing it sparkle on her long, slender hand when she pointed to something on her computer monitor or clacked the keys on her keyboard or gestured as she told a tale. He’d like knowing it was on her hand when she walked down Main Street as if she owned the strip, with all the men watching and admiring and knowing she belonged to him.