“Right. Because paperwork’s known for wrapping itself up ahead of schedule. Very cooperative, those forms,” I say.
He pours his coffee and I catch him humming.Humming. Hank Thompson is humming something that sounds suspiciously like Elvis. Not even angry Elvis. Happy Elvis. Love song Elvis. Young Elvis.
“Okay, Dad, who is she?” I ask point-blank, becausesubtlety is for people who didn’t grow up with my dad’s skill at hiding his feelings.
He freezes mid-pour, coffee overflowing his mug. “Huh?”
“The woman you’re obviously seeing. And don’t say you’re not because you smell like cologne that probably has a French name, you’re humming Elvis, and your shirt’s tucked in like you care about your appearance. Either you’re dating someone or having a midlife crisis, and frankly, I prefer the dating option because I know you won’t do therapy.”
He sets down his coffee with more force than necessary. “Drop it, Callie.”
But as he’s turning to leave to escape my interrogation, something falls out of his pocket. A movie ticket stub. He scrambles for it like it’s a grenade, but not before I see the title,Romance in Paris.
“Romance in Paris?” I raise an eyebrow so high it hurts. “That’s your paperwork? Very administrative. I’m sure the tax forms loved the subplot about the baker and the tourist.”
“It’s research.”
“Research for what? Your doctoral thesis on French cinema? Your secret life as a film critic?”
“Callie—”
“Dad, this is great! You’re dating someone!”
The words come out more enthusiastic than I expect, but it’s true. Mom made me promise before she died. I was sixteen and trying not to sob as she held my hand with what little strength she had left.
“Don’t let your father become a hermit,” she’d said, hervoice barely a whisper. “He’ll try. He’ll say he’s had his one great love and that’s enough. But nobody should be alone, Callie. Make sure he doesn’t end up alone. Promise me.”
I’d promised, choking on tears, and I’ve kept that promise. For twelve years, I’ve been dropping hints, suggesting he try online dating, pointing out available women at church, accidentally leaving the newspaper open to singles events. Nothing. He always said the same thing: “I had my one true love. Besides, I know everyone in this town already. Dating someone in Cedar Ridge would be… weird.”
That’s mostly why I still live here in Dad’s house, honestly. Someone needs to make sure he eats vegetables occasionally and doesn’t wear the same shirt four days in a row and remembers that life exists outside of ranch work and old grudges.
“Mom would be happy,” I say.
His expression shifts, something flickering across his face like a deer caught in unfamiliar emotional headlights. “You think?”
“I know. She told me to make sure you didn’t end up alone. She’d probably be thrilled you’re finally listening to her, even if it took you twelve years. She was patient, but not that patient. If she were here she’d be saying, ‘’bout damn time, Hank.’”
He’s quiet for a moment, then clears his throat roughly. “It’s nothing serious.”
“Romance in Parisisn’t serious? That movie’s so romantic, people get pregnant just from watching the trailer.”
I snort-laugh. Dad avoids my gaze.
“It’s just... I’m just... getting out a little. Seeing what’sout there. Testing the waters. Dipping a toe in. Ya know. All the water metaphors.”
“Getting out with who?”
“Nobody you need to worry about.”
Which is the most suspicious answer possible. In Cedar Ridge, “nobody you need to worry about” could mean anything from the librarian to someone’s recently divorced sister to... oh God, what if it’s someone truly scandalous? What if it’s a McCoy? What if he’s dating Jesse’s aunt or something? No, that’s not possible. Dad would never. Although... the cologne, the secrecy, the guilty expression like he’s been caught with his hand in the relationship cookie jar...
“Is she married?” I ask, horrified at the possibility.
“What? No! Jesus, Callie. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“A secretive one. Very mysterious. Very 007 if James Bond was a rancher with questionable fashion sense.”
“Nothing to see here, Callie,” Dad says, attempting to end the conversation.
