“My lawyer says I don’t have to answer that question,” he cleverly responds, always one with a witty answer. “But, since you are my favorite granddaughter, I’ll tell you I’m doing better now that I hear your sweet voice.”
“Aw, you’re so full of shit, old man. I’m your only granddaughter.”
He chuckles at this and responds with a “Touché.”
I can hear the rustling of papers, as he’s probably looking over several contracts at the moment. The man wakes every morning at 5 a.m., gets in a swim in his lap pool, does the sauna, eats breakfast, has some coffee, and then gets straight down to business.
I can only wish to have the same level of stamina he has when I’m seventy-two.
“Are you going to tell me how your event is going? I’m sorry I couldn’t get out there, but you know how it is.”
He retired to Florida years ago and still works with many athletes who live down there, especially retired athletes who still need PR help when they find themselves in trouble.
I inhale deeply, pushing it out of my lungs with a whoosh. It’s now or never.
“It’s been a very good event, and I think it’s given Brett a lot of mileage and publicity that will only make him more marketable. And,” I add with both excitement and nerves, “I’ve signed up the last three clients to meet my goal.”
“Good, good. That’s wonderful to hear, Hollis. I knew you could do it.”
My heart fills with pride from his praise and bolsters my confidence to mention the next topic.
“And Granddad, I have some other news. I’m getting married.”
There’s a silence over the line and I actually check my phone to make sure I didn’t lose him. Mountain reception, and all. But he’s still there.
And then his voice booms like thunder. “Married? To whom? And when?”
Nervous laughter bolts from my throat. “Well, it’s Kellan Muller. He and I are…well, we reconnected and rekindled something that started a few years back. And we’ve decided to get married. Here. At Bachelor Mountain. Today.”
Those last words come out choppy and forced. As if someone was thumping me on the back to dislodge them from my throat.
“You what?” he bellows into the phone. “Why so suddenly? Why is this the first I’ve heard about Kellan? And hold on there. Isn’t he one of the athletes you were trying to sign this weekend?”
Oh boy. There is no pulling anything over on my grandfather, who is sharp as a tack, and nothing slips by him unnoticed.
I keep my voice calm and neutral. Businesslike, even though inside I’m going nuts with anxious nerves. “Yes, granddad. I did sign Kellan this weekend.”
He snorts. “Sounds like you did a hell of a lot more than that, young lady.”
“Like I said, we’d had a brief affair at the last Olympics and reconnected. And, well, we fit. He’s a good man, granddad. You’ll like him and I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
His voice grows cagey. “Then why don’t you wait to get married and come down to visit me in Florida? We’ll have a ceremony here so I can see my beautiful granddaughter and walk her down the aisle.”
I didn’t expect that and now my heart pings with regret and shame. Now I have to backpedal. Ugh, I’m a horrible liar. Even with my chosen profession, you’d think I’d be a great spin doctor. Which I am, but only when it involves a client, and not me or my personal life.
“That would be lovely, granddad and I’ll bring it up with Kellan. But right now, he’s in the middle of competition season and training for the Olympic tryouts, so that doesn’t leave us time to travel outside of competitions. But we will definitely get down soon and you can host our wedding reception then.”
He seems to mull this over and accept it as truth, adding, “Well, I’ll have to come meet your new man, or should I say, husband, soon. Congratulations darling. I hope you find love and happiness in this union.”
Happiness, for sure, once I get the position of President of Flying Aces.
Love? Maybe.
I’m hopeful and actually more excited than I expected to be over being Mrs. Kellan Muller.
Chapter Ten
Kellan
