He was quiet for a moment, thinking about this. Andrew came to things slowly, it didn’t do any good to push him. “I still have to study. I have finals in three weeks.”
“You can work here. I am.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stay here.”
“Andrew, I don’t want you holed up in that frat house for a week with nothing to do; it’s not a good idea.”
“I live here.” His voice brought her up. The way he sounded like Phil.
She took a breath. She’d been trying hard to give him space, and here she was ordering him around like he was twelve. But he’d been foolish, more than foolish. Irresponsible. And now a boy was hurt. How had things come to this? Had she failed somehow as a parent? She’d tried her best, but something awful and unforeseen had happened anyway. Could she have set another course five or ten or twenty years ago? Maybe this terrible thing could have been avoided if she’d put her foot down about joining the frat. Or forbidden him from going to Tulane in the first place. But couldn’t something bad have happened somewhere else? Maybe not this particular thing but another misfortune. Life was a series of pitfalls, some small, some catastrophic. She knew that all too well.
She began again. “All I’m saying is it might be better to get out of there for a week. And you haven’t seen Grandpa since Christmas. It would be nice to spend a few days with him.”
From the window, she saw Glenn’s white truck turn up the driveway, and in spite of everything, her heart lifted. He hadn’t forgotten.
“Okay. I’ll come, but I’m not going to Connecticut for the whole time. I’ll stay in the city with Dad.” He was pushing back, angry and upset at what had happened, choosing his father because he knew it would hurt her. It did hurt, a little. From what she could tell, Phil had pretty much moved into the fiancée’s place. She hoped he’d have the sense to carve out some time for Andrew.
“That’s fine, just come here for a couple of nights.”
“All right,” he relented. “I’ll take the train up. I’d like to see Grandpa too.”
“He’d love that.” She didn’t add that she would love it too. No sense pushing her luck.
...
She met Glenn outside as he was getting out of his truck. Even though the day was cool with a sharp breeze, he was wearing shorts and a fleece vest, and she couldn’t help noticing he had nice legs. She quickly averted her gaze. Jesus, her world was falling apart, and here she was gawking at the man’s legs.
“My dad fell asleep on the couch,” she said, her face warm. “I don’t know how he sleeps with the news on so loud.”
“I can come back. I just stopped by to talk about a management plan for the bees. Maybe we can get a handle on that varroa.”
“No, don’t leave. I’ll get him up. Otherwise, he’ll be unhappy he missed you.” The thought of him leaving right away discouraged her. It was everything—Andrew, the memory lapse. Her looming appointment with the genetic counselor. The day had gone from bad to worse in a hurry.
“I uh…didn’t mean to be rude the other night, when I took off like that.” He shifted from one foot to the other, and she had the sense that whatever happened that night had upset him. He was a hard man to read, unlike Phil, who had no problem letting you know what he was thinking. She’d appreciated that transparency at first, but somewhere along the way what Phil was thinking had become less interesting. Less conversation and more monologue. Maybe the new wife would be enthralled.
She had a sudden troubling thought. “Is everything okay with your daughter?”
“Oh yeah. She’s fine, thanks.”
“I saw in the paper that the zoning board approved the project.” She hadn’t stayed for the whole meeting. When she’dleft at ten people were still lined up to talk. God knew how long it went.
“No surprise there.” His expression darkened. “Pretty much a foregone conclusion.”
“At least they mandated some below market units, which seems fair.”
“Below market around here is still out of reach for most people. And bottom line, they’re going to plow it under.” He regarded her suspiciously. “You’re not in real estate, are you?”
She smiled. “You make it sound like the mafia. No, I’m not in real estate. I do economic development for the city of New York. I’m a lawyer in their legal department.” She glanced toward the Kingsley property. “How did you end up keeping bees there? Do you know the family?”
“Not personally, just made some calls. It seemed like a good spot to keep a few hives.”
“More than a few.”
“With bees one thing always leads to another.”
“Your daughter seems to know something about bees.” Cassie glanced at the truck, on the off chance Lilah was inside. “She seems like a sweet girl. What is she, about eleven?”
“Twelve. Going on twenty.”
