rubbed off on Kimmer.”
Hank snorted. “She can take care of herself.”
And Rio didn’t bother to hide his pride. “Yeah. She can. But that won’t stop me from stepping in if I think I need to.”
Men. All posturing and saber-rattling. But Kimmer found herself smiling all the same.
When she returned with the subs, Owen and the lawyer had left, and the drizzle had stopped. Hank sat on the bumper of Rio’s midsize SUV, and Rio waved, standing by the half-open car door as he fished his cell phone from his pocket, glanced at the caller ID, and picked up the call. “Hey, Caro. What’s—”
When Carolyne Carlsen cut Rio off, Kimmer instantlywondered if she’d gotten herself into another situation. As far as Kimmer knew, Carolyne still handled security issues on some of the federal government’s most sensitive systems—the same job that had gotten her into trouble the previous fall.
But Rio glanced over, saw Kimmer’s attentiveness, and gave the slightest shake of his head. He could still read her like the proverbial book, dammit. And it still shook her sometimes; she still wasn’t used to it. No doubt he could tell just how she felt about Hank, even if Hank himself wouldn’t ever pick up the depth of her true feelings, not even if they came attached to a clue-by-four. “Caro, slow down. Is she…” he stopped, didn’t seem to be able to use the words he’d had in mind, and finally finished, “…still in the hospital?”
Kimmer knew, then. It had to be Rio’s grandmother. His beloved Sobo. Had it been anyone in his nuclear family, his cousin wouldn’t be passing the news along. Though for Rio, of course, “nuclear family” encompassed as many layers as the average extended family.
Kimmer thought of her nuclear family in terms of single digits. One. Herself.
“Who’s she staying with? Mom and Dad? Good. Mom won’t let her do anything more strenuous than flower arrangement. Do they need—”
Quiet Carolyne was overwrought indeed, to keep cutting Rio off in midsentence. “Okay. Okay. I hear you. I promise. I won’t go. Not without checking first. And I’ll give them a day or two before I call. Yes, I promise. I won’t even send an e-mail.”
That, Kimmer knew, was calculated to get at least a small laugh out of Carolyne. For as much as Carolyne was connected and interconnected to the online community—wireless satellite connections for every machine she owned andthen some—Rio was disconnected. He hadn’t yet gotten his hand-me-down laptop to work with Kimmer’s slow rural dialup. Now the worry on his brow smoothed a little, and she knew the tactic had been at least partially successful. But his voice, when he spoke again, was as intense as Rio got. “Listen, Caro, you call me if anything changes. I mean it. Okay. Look, we’ll talk later. Soon. Thanks for letting me know.” And he listened another moment or two, nodding before a final goodbye.
“Did you ever notice,” Hank said into the silence that followed, into the connection Kimmer and Rio had established, a silent communication during which she let him know she’d followed and understood the development, “that people on TV sitcoms never say goodbye? They just hang up.”
“Here.” Kimmer thrust the sub sandwich bag at him, and he pushed himself off the bumper to reach for it. “I got you turkey and onions with mustard.” An old favorite. Ick. “There’s a soda in there, too. I thought you might be hungry enough to eat on the way home.” I thought I might be hungry enough to eat on the way home, but if it keeps your mouth busy, first dibs are all yours .
And then she cranked the window down to let fresh air dilute the stinging odor of onions.
Once home, Kimmer didn’t linger. Owen expected her at Hunter, and she wanted to get it over with. She also wanted to escape Hank. And mostly, she needed time to consider Rio’s situation.
The blunt truth was that she had no idea how to respond to his grandmother’s
Hank snorted. “She can take care of herself.”
And Rio didn’t bother to hide his pride. “Yeah. She can. But that won’t stop me from stepping in if I think I need to.”
Men. All posturing and saber-rattling. But Kimmer found herself smiling all the same.
When she returned with the subs, Owen and the lawyer had left, and the drizzle had stopped. Hank sat on the bumper of Rio’s midsize SUV, and Rio waved, standing by the half-open car door as he fished his cell phone from his pocket, glanced at the caller ID, and picked up the call. “Hey, Caro. What’s—”
When Carolyne Carlsen cut Rio off, Kimmer instantlywondered if she’d gotten herself into another situation. As far as Kimmer knew, Carolyne still handled security issues on some of the federal government’s most sensitive systems—the same job that had gotten her into trouble the previous fall.
But Rio glanced over, saw Kimmer’s attentiveness, and gave the slightest shake of his head. He could still read her like the proverbial book, dammit. And it still shook her sometimes; she still wasn’t used to it. No doubt he could tell just how she felt about Hank, even if Hank himself wouldn’t ever pick up the depth of her true feelings, not even if they came attached to a clue-by-four. “Caro, slow down. Is she…” he stopped, didn’t seem to be able to use the words he’d had in mind, and finally finished, “…still in the hospital?”
Kimmer knew, then. It had to be Rio’s grandmother. His beloved Sobo. Had it been anyone in his nuclear family, his cousin wouldn’t be passing the news along. Though for Rio, of course, “nuclear family” encompassed as many layers as the average extended family.
Kimmer thought of her nuclear family in terms of single digits. One. Herself.
“Who’s she staying with? Mom and Dad? Good. Mom won’t let her do anything more strenuous than flower arrangement. Do they need—”
Quiet Carolyne was overwrought indeed, to keep cutting Rio off in midsentence. “Okay. Okay. I hear you. I promise. I won’t go. Not without checking first. And I’ll give them a day or two before I call. Yes, I promise. I won’t even send an e-mail.”
That, Kimmer knew, was calculated to get at least a small laugh out of Carolyne. For as much as Carolyne was connected and interconnected to the online community—wireless satellite connections for every machine she owned andthen some—Rio was disconnected. He hadn’t yet gotten his hand-me-down laptop to work with Kimmer’s slow rural dialup. Now the worry on his brow smoothed a little, and she knew the tactic had been at least partially successful. But his voice, when he spoke again, was as intense as Rio got. “Listen, Caro, you call me if anything changes. I mean it. Okay. Look, we’ll talk later. Soon. Thanks for letting me know.” And he listened another moment or two, nodding before a final goodbye.
“Did you ever notice,” Hank said into the silence that followed, into the connection Kimmer and Rio had established, a silent communication during which she let him know she’d followed and understood the development, “that people on TV sitcoms never say goodbye? They just hang up.”
“Here.” Kimmer thrust the sub sandwich bag at him, and he pushed himself off the bumper to reach for it. “I got you turkey and onions with mustard.” An old favorite. Ick. “There’s a soda in there, too. I thought you might be hungry enough to eat on the way home.” I thought I might be hungry enough to eat on the way home, but if it keeps your mouth busy, first dibs are all yours .
And then she cranked the window down to let fresh air dilute the stinging odor of onions.
Once home, Kimmer didn’t linger. Owen expected her at Hunter, and she wanted to get it over with. She also wanted to escape Hank. And mostly, she needed time to consider Rio’s situation.
The blunt truth was that she had no idea how to respond to his grandmother’s
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