“And how long ago was that?”
“Seven years.”
“So what exactly is your dad charging you for? I’m guessing that money was sent directly to him.”
“Law school and the wedding. Moira’s father wanted his money back.”
“Ouch.”
“With interest.”
“And I’m sure—or I hope—Silas is letting you live rent free, but I doubt he can pay you eighty-five dollars an hour. Question, though. You said you had dual citizenship. You’re a White dude and you’re clearly smart and talented. Why didn’t you look for something that paid more the cafe? Not that I’m knocking that gig. It seems like you guys are having a blast over there. It just, you know…”
Mason had asked himself that question many times and lately he was less and less impressed with his own logic. At first, he’d convinced himself he was sticking around for Silas. After his falling out with Scott, Silas had spent years building up the farm, living in that huge house all alone. But after Liz moved in and it was clear that each was exactly what the other needed, Mason wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore.
He’d used Palila’s birth as an excuse for a while. Of course, he wanted to help out with the new baby, but between Ms. Bess, Maya, Ginny, Sydney, and Liz’s sister and friends from the city, there was practically a line around the corner of volunteers asking to look after the adorable child. Now he knew that the longer it took for him to pay back his father, the longer he could put off going back home.
“I was dragging my feet,” he admitted. “Your aunt knew and I suppose that’s why she gave me the money. She didn’t want me to spend my life fighting with my father. Or maybe she didn’t want me to spend my life hiding from him.”
“Are you going to quit now and go back home?”
“Another good question from the Mrs.” Mason set the cooked shrimp and scallops aside and started on the sauce.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to go back. You can say that. This is a safe space. A circle of sharing, if you will.”
Mason didn’t want to be an asshole and say all the terrible things that had run through his head over the years out loud. Still, one thing was true. While he missed his mom, he didn’t miss his father and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see him again. Mason was who he was. Yeah, he wasn’t his father’s ideal version of what a McInroy man could be, but he was a hard worker and a loyal friend. He’d been there for Silas and Liz through their ups and downs. He knew what he had to do to get back in his father’s good graces, to restore the peace in his family and it would only cost him his soul.
“I’ve considered not going back.” He looked over at Xeni to gauge her reaction. She just shrugged and took a sip of her beer.
“Understandable. If your father hadn’t ruined things between you and Duncan, where do you think you’d be now?”
“Finishing up a sold-out North American tour. Duncan and I would have broken up seven or eight times and I’d be dating our new bassist to make him jealous.” Mason was joking about the last part.
“What instrument did you play in the band?” Xeni asked.
“You’re looking at lead vocals and any wind instrument we could fit my old truck, but mostly bagpipes. You’ve never heard real funk until you’ve heard funk on the bagpipes.”
“Really?” Xeni laughed.
“Look up Reggie Harkness on your cellular device there.” Mason added more salt to his sauce and, just as he was about to taste it, heard the opening chords to Reggie and The Blaze’s “Bagpipe Blues, On the Bay” drown out the light jazz coming from his phone.
“Oh my god,” Xeni laughed as she paused the video. “I know this guy. I think he dated one of my aunts.”
“According to Ms. Sable, he dated at least three of your aunts. He’s the only reason I took up bagpipes. Dear old dad wanted me to carry on the tradition. I hated going to lessons, but when my instructor realized I didn’t give a shit about tradition, he played Reggie’s first LP for me. I was hooked after that.” Hearing the Blaze’s first album had been transformative for Mason. He knew then he could make any kind of music with any instrument. He could be unstoppable.
“That’s amazing.”
“They asked me to play the national anthem over at the high school for one of the football games. Your aunt came up to me at the cafe the next day and asked me if I’d heard of the Blaze. That was the start of our beautiful friendship.”
“The musical accompaniment at her service makes a little more sense now.”
“I promise, that was one hundred percent her idea.”
“I believe you.” Mason looked over as Xeni let out another heavy sigh. Almost as quickly, her expression changed and she cocked her head to the side. Her eyes narrowed and her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. Mason couldn’t help but think about what it would feel like to have that tongue wrapped up in other places.
“Are you checking out my ass again? I saw you at the clerk’s office,” he said.
“Yes and no. My friend told me she fell for her husband because he was a good cook. I mean, he’s tatted to the nines and hot as hell and great with her kids, but I’m starting to get what she means about the cooking thing.”
