Dad strode through the store, filling up the space with his large presence as he always did. He rounded the counter, Harry trailing at his back. He cupped my nape and bent his head to search my face. “You okay?” and I knew by his concern that he’d heard.
I nodded in reassurance.
Dad gave my nape a squeeze and released me. I watched him as he strode past me to where Mum stood.
“Hullo, what are—” Her words were cut off as Dad swept an arm around her waist and pulled her up onto her toes into a passionate kiss.
Grinning, I looked away as Mum wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
I could tell by the disgusted look on Harry’s face the kiss lasted a while.
Then I heard Mum ask breathlessly, “What was that for?”
“Mamma bear” was Dad’s succinct reply.
The news that Dad found Mum’s fighting spirit hot disturbed Harry. He grimaced at me. “Gross.”
“How do you think you’re here?” I teased. “Some girl was bullying me at school, Mum got in her mum’s face, Dad witnessed it, and bam, suddenly, she’s pregnant with you.”
Harry looked sick. “That’s not true, is it?”
I laughed. It wasn’t, but I was taking too much pleasure in his disgust.
My wee brother rolled his eyes. Then he considered me. “You okay? Obviously, we heard. Mrs. Rankin is an auld witch.”
“You missed Mum verbally drop-kicking her, though. It was worth it for that.”
We shared a grin, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Want a yumnut?”
“What’s a yumnut?”
“A doughnut yum-yum. I made them this morning and kept a few aside for you and Dad.”
“What’s this?” Dad’s ears perked up as he turned from murmuring in quiet conversation with Mum.
I laughed because Mum always said she was pretty sure she won Dad through his sweet tooth. He always said he had to double his daily workouts to burn off all the baked goods she’d tempted him with.
As Angie and Cathy promised to watch the front, I huddled in the kitchen with my family, eating yumnuts and laughing, the ugly confrontation from earlier completely forgotten.
It was a shame, then, when my mobile phone rang in my purse. Seeing an unknown number flash on the screen, I thought about not answering because it was most likely spam.
Yet for some reason, I answered. Stupidly.
“Good morning, may I speak with a Ms. Callie Ironside?” a woman with an American accent asked.
“Uh, speaking.”
“Ms. Ironside, my name is Eva Holland. I’m your father Nathan Andros’s attorney.”
I froze, my heart rate suddenly escalating. “What do you want?”
Hearing my tone, Dad hushed my mum and Harry, scowling in concern at me.
“Ms. Ironside, your father?—”
“Don’t call him that,” I cut her off.
“All right.” She sighed heavily, as if I was inconveniencing her. “Mr. Andros is eligible for parole. His parole hearing is in a few weeks. Were you aware?”
