Gideon suppressed annoyance about his grandfather’s big mouth.
He didn’t want to talk about Fiona.
He wanted to forget about her.
Yet…the conversations he had with his father—meaningful ones, anyway—were so few and far between that he felt compelled to continue.
Perhaps it was a desire for Gid to understand how he’d molded his son’s life because of his lack of responsibility—how, because of his unrealistic pipe dreams and desire to live only for the moment, he had been not only a terrible father, but had created a son who was compelled to be so completely opposite of him.
“She’s fun and beautiful and very carefree. I enjoyed being with her, but in the end we decided that we didn’t have enough in common to be together. Our relationship was too distracting, and she just wasn’t serious enough for the long haul.
“Fiona just didn’t have enough focus in her life…enoughgoals.” He glanced at his father, who was still very handsome even with graying hair and deep wrinkles around the eyes and mouth.
Gid frowned and looked down. “I know you think I’m the biggest prick that ever tried to be a father—and you’re somewhat justified in thinking so—but you’re still my son, and I still have an interest in your life.
“I’m 58 years old and’ll be in here for another ten years—and then maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get out on parole. I’m here because I allowed myself to get too caught up in instant gratification, short-term pleasure, and my own addictive weaknesses. I know it, and I’m paying for it. But I don’t want to see you do the same thing.”
Gideon gaped at his father. “That’s absurd! I never live for the instant pleasure—I plan and work and focus, I have goals, and I’mdamnedif I’ll ever get caught up in fanciful dreams in order to be a fashionable starving artist like you. I’mnothinglike you.”
“That’s my point, Gideon. You’re so sure you’re going to end up like me that you’re swinging so damned hard in the opposite direction—and so your life’s nothing but structure and work and duty. Just like your grandfather’s. I was just as determined as you are to be the exactoppositeof my father that I did the same thing.”
Gid’s voice was earnest and he leaned toward the glass, his deep-set eyes serious. “Gideon, I only talk to you once every month or two months…and only see you a couple times a year—but I can see that you need balance in your life. You need a little fun and a little free spirit and a little creativity. A little art. Maybe a lot of art,” he said with a short laugh.
“Letting that in—the creative side of yourself—isn’t going to end you up in prison like me.Notletting yourself loosen up will turn you into my father—or at least the way he was before Iva.
“Do you want to spend sixty years of your life like that before you realize you made a mistake?”
Nineteen
Why oh whyhad she agreed to this?
Fiona scowled at herself in the tall oval mirror and adjusted her sparkling, bronze-colored gown. It brushed the floor and hugged each one of her curves from throat to hip in a shimmering display.
Her shoulders and back were bare, but the gown was high-necked with a choker-like collar that made her look even taller than she was. With her hair piled high on the top of her head, she looked like she imagined a Greek goddess would look, especially if she were a statue cast in new copper.
She leaned forward to brush on shiny cinnamon lipstick, then glanced at the clock. Brad would be here at any moment.
Why oh why had she agreed to go with him?
He’d been so insistent, and Fiona had felt so damnedconfinedsince breaking things off with Gideon. It had been over three weeks ago, and she hadn’t felt like going anywhere or doing anything.
This was not only a chance to get out of the house, but to enjoy one of her favorite places in an unusual and special way: the annual Children of Grand Rapids Fundraiser was being held at the gorgeous Frederik Meijer Gardens.
The event was after hours, and the patrons would have the opportunity to see the new Japanese tea garden display before it opened to the public. Despite it being mid-November, there would be heat lamps throughout the gardens and large fire pits to add to the ambience and warmth. Inside the sleek and welcoming facilities would be a cocktail party and silent auction, and the guests would move between the inside and outside displays for the evening.
Brad, who’d won his election two weeks ago, certainly wouldn’t miss such a public relations opportunity in the middle of his district—and when he’d asked Fiona to be his companion, she’d forced herself to accept.
She knew she needed to do something other than work at the shop and sit at home.
When he knocked at her front door—she was back at her apartment in Grand Rapids tonight, in anticipation of the event—she gathered up the black beaded shawl and matching handbag from the table, then snagged a long overcoat for the ride in the car.
“Hi Brad,” she said, opening the door wide enough for him to come in. He looked very debonair in his tuxedo, but, like Carl, the man just didn’t do a thing for her hormones.
Damn it anyway.
Oh, this was a bad idea. Maybe she could still get out of it…
“You look gorgeous!” Brad said, literally gawking as he stood on the threshold. “Fiona, you will be the belle of the ball. I’ll be the envy of every man there.”
