Lord,” Edda Mae said, her fork clattering to her plate.
Jill laid her hand on Vince’s upper arm. Although he didn’t move, his whole body seemed to tense at her touch. He stared at Jill’s hand so intently she drew it away in confusion and covered her surprise by asking, “How is your grandfather?” The few times she’d met the legendary Aldo Patrizio she’d been both charmed and intimidated.
“My grandfather hasn’t been the same since,” Vince admitted in a husky voice. “He’s…well, he’s finding it difficult.”
“So you’ve been helping him with the business,” Jill said, trying not to frown as she pondered Vince’s reaction to her touch. She must have imagined the desire in his eyes last night, which was all good. Theirs was meant to be a platonic relationship. Jill tapped Teddy’s plate with one finger, reminding him to eat.
“And your parents?” Edda Mae asked. “Are they helping your grandfather while you’re away?”
“No. The only interest they have in the business is what their share will be when my grandfather dies.” Vince examined his toast intently, as if the fate of the world depended on where he took his first bite.
Edda Mae gasped. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. Not everyone is capable of loving someone.” Vince crunched on his toast.
Jill’s heart went out to Vince. She knew how desolate life could be with parents who evaluated rather than loved.
But then she wondered.
Was he talking about her?
“T EDDY IS LIKE one of my own grandkids.” Edda Mae chatted pleasantly to Vince as she handed him a dripping plate to dry. Apparently his confession about his parents hadn’t destroyed her opinion of him.
Unlike Jill, who’d treated him coolly ever since she’d placed her hand over the scar on his arm at breakfast. Could she have felt the twisted, hardened skin through the thin cotton of his T-shirt? The few people who’d seen his scar wanted to know how he got it. Vince didn’t satisfy their interest other than to say, “The war.”
“I tell everyone I have three grandchildren,” Edda Mae went on. “My daughter, Francie, and her two girls live near Fresno. It takes nearly four hours to get there from here—unless Jill drives.”
“She’s still heavy on the pedal, huh?” Vince smiled, remembering the one time he’d let Jill take his sports car for a spin before they got married. Jill had a way of accelerating that gave her passengers whiplash. He’d always suspected Jill was as impatient and impetuous as he was. She just hid it better until she got behind the wheel.
Edda Mae chuckled, the rich sound drawing him further into the Norman Rockwell–like moment—no servants walking on silent feet, no assistants slipping notes, no managers reporting problems on the casino floor.
Out of the corner of his eye Vince saw Teddy sprawled on his belly reading a book. Moonbeam was curled next to him, full of kibble. With half an ear Vince listened to Jill book a group for a stay in January, her tone calm and reassuring. Vince knew if he turned around he’d find her worrying the end of a pencil with her teeth, so at odds with the confidence in her voice.
Jill’s household was nothing like the one Vince had grown up in. And yet, it felt like home.
“Too bad your daughter lives so far away,” Vince said to Edda Mae, reaching for a dry dish towel.
“Francie wanted to go to college. Afterward she wasn’t interested in running Shady Oak and there weren’t any other jobs here for someone with a degree in finance. I miss her, but—” with a determined grip, Edda Mae wrestled the heavy frying pan into the sink “—what can I do?”
If he succeeded, if there was a casino in Railroad Stop, maybe Edda Mae’s daughter could move back. A casino needed more financial experts than a golf course did. As soon as Jill was off the phone Vince was going to point that out to her.
“You sold the business to Jill. You’re free to go to Fresno, right?”
Jill laid her hand on Vince’s upper arm. Although he didn’t move, his whole body seemed to tense at her touch. He stared at Jill’s hand so intently she drew it away in confusion and covered her surprise by asking, “How is your grandfather?” The few times she’d met the legendary Aldo Patrizio she’d been both charmed and intimidated.
“My grandfather hasn’t been the same since,” Vince admitted in a husky voice. “He’s…well, he’s finding it difficult.”
“So you’ve been helping him with the business,” Jill said, trying not to frown as she pondered Vince’s reaction to her touch. She must have imagined the desire in his eyes last night, which was all good. Theirs was meant to be a platonic relationship. Jill tapped Teddy’s plate with one finger, reminding him to eat.
“And your parents?” Edda Mae asked. “Are they helping your grandfather while you’re away?”
“No. The only interest they have in the business is what their share will be when my grandfather dies.” Vince examined his toast intently, as if the fate of the world depended on where he took his first bite.
Edda Mae gasped. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. Not everyone is capable of loving someone.” Vince crunched on his toast.
Jill’s heart went out to Vince. She knew how desolate life could be with parents who evaluated rather than loved.
But then she wondered.
Was he talking about her?
“T EDDY IS LIKE one of my own grandkids.” Edda Mae chatted pleasantly to Vince as she handed him a dripping plate to dry. Apparently his confession about his parents hadn’t destroyed her opinion of him.
Unlike Jill, who’d treated him coolly ever since she’d placed her hand over the scar on his arm at breakfast. Could she have felt the twisted, hardened skin through the thin cotton of his T-shirt? The few people who’d seen his scar wanted to know how he got it. Vince didn’t satisfy their interest other than to say, “The war.”
“I tell everyone I have three grandchildren,” Edda Mae went on. “My daughter, Francie, and her two girls live near Fresno. It takes nearly four hours to get there from here—unless Jill drives.”
“She’s still heavy on the pedal, huh?” Vince smiled, remembering the one time he’d let Jill take his sports car for a spin before they got married. Jill had a way of accelerating that gave her passengers whiplash. He’d always suspected Jill was as impatient and impetuous as he was. She just hid it better until she got behind the wheel.
Edda Mae chuckled, the rich sound drawing him further into the Norman Rockwell–like moment—no servants walking on silent feet, no assistants slipping notes, no managers reporting problems on the casino floor.
Out of the corner of his eye Vince saw Teddy sprawled on his belly reading a book. Moonbeam was curled next to him, full of kibble. With half an ear Vince listened to Jill book a group for a stay in January, her tone calm and reassuring. Vince knew if he turned around he’d find her worrying the end of a pencil with her teeth, so at odds with the confidence in her voice.
Jill’s household was nothing like the one Vince had grown up in. And yet, it felt like home.
“Too bad your daughter lives so far away,” Vince said to Edda Mae, reaching for a dry dish towel.
“Francie wanted to go to college. Afterward she wasn’t interested in running Shady Oak and there weren’t any other jobs here for someone with a degree in finance. I miss her, but—” with a determined grip, Edda Mae wrestled the heavy frying pan into the sink “—what can I do?”
If he succeeded, if there was a casino in Railroad Stop, maybe Edda Mae’s daughter could move back. A casino needed more financial experts than a golf course did. As soon as Jill was off the phone Vince was going to point that out to her.
“You sold the business to Jill. You’re free to go to Fresno, right?”
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