Life and Other Inconveniences(64)

The noise, and my anxiety, slid away.

Paul Riley was looking at me suspiciously. Had I said something? I didn’t think so.

“Why are you here, Paul? Visiting Riley, I assume?”

“She’s with her father today,” he said.

“Indeed.” Perhaps Riley had told me that. I didn’t remember.

“Between him pretending to be her father this summer and you taking her to New York to fill her head with nonsense, I’m a bit worried about her.”

I sighed. “I didn’t fill her head with nonsense. I showed her my company and bought her a few things.”

“She got her hair cut!”

“Is that why you’re here? To protest a teenage girl’s hair choices?”

“It was beautiful hair!”

“It’s still beautiful. Let her express herself, Paul. Small rebellions will quell bigger rebellions.”

He leaned back and squinted at me. “Don’t act like you know anything about raising children, Genevieve. From where I sit, I can’t see that you did such a great job with anyone.”

How dare he? “Right back at you, Paul.” My voice was icy.

He jolted forward. “Don’t you dare talk about my girl. April had . . . troubles. We tried to help her. And we raised her just fine. She wasn’t spoiled, not like that idiot Clark.”

Perhaps it was because this was my last summer on earth, but I said, “On Clark, we are agreed. And I know April was troubled. I asked Clark to make sure she got help. Many times.”

He settled back, his face a mask of pain, and I regretted descending to his level.

“I did my best with Emma, you know,” I said. “Not that I feel compelled to justify anything to you, but I did.”

“You could’ve loved her a little more.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is my lecture finished? I’d like to clean up before cocktail hour.”

“You really leaving all this to a teenage girl?” he asked, gesturing to the house.

“That’s none of your business.”

“You think it’ll help her, inheriting millions? Because it sure didn’t help your worthless son.”

“Hi, guys.” Emma walked up. “Still fighting after all these decades?”

“Hush, you,” Paul said.

“Are you finished soothing the souls of the self-obsessed?” I asked.

“I’d happily counsel you for free, Gigi,” she said, unruffled, and I felt a stir of pride that she hadn’t let my barb land. She kissed her grandfather, and the pride turned to envy at their easy bond.

Once, I’d hoped Emma would be like a daughter to me.

“It’s funny,” she said, tilting her head as she sat down with us. “I’ve never heard a kind word between you, and yet you both lost children. You both helped raise me. You have so much in common.”

“And so little at the same time,” I said. Paul huffed in agreement, and for a second, our eyes met in amusement.

He was a rather nice-looking man, in that blue-collar way. Thick white hair, mustache, gravelly voice.

Emma’s phone rang. “Another soul to soothe,” she said, giving me a significant look. “Enjoy your chat, and no hitting, you two.”

She got up and put the phone to her ear. “Dr. London here. Oh, Jim. How are you? What’s going on?”

Paul’s gaze followed her as she walked away, the pride unmistakable. “Dr. London. That has such a nice sound to it.”

“She could’ve been a surgeon.”

“She’s never good enough for you, is she?” he said. “She put herself through three degrees, raised that beautiful kid, and all you do is pick at her. Give her some goddamn credit.”

“Why are you here again, Paul? Trespassing, was it?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. His eyebrows could use a trim. “Your friend invited me for happy hour.”

“Cocktail hour. Happy hour is for beer-swilling, nacho-eating troglodytes.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Which friend?”

“Do you have more than one? Donelle.”

I stifled a sigh. “How lovely for us all, in that case.”

He settled against the wooden chair. I had to get new cushions. The wood was too hard for my bones, and though I’d been warm a few minutes ago, I was chilly now in the sea breeze and shade of the big tree.

Eighty-five years old, my body betraying me by the minute. I wondered if Garrison would even recognize me.

Paul was taking off his denim shirt. He handed it across the table. “You’re cold,” he said.

“How very gallant of you, but no thank you. I have many wraps inside.”

“Well, we’re not inside now, are we? You gonna shiver for the rest of the conversation?”

“I was hoping against hope that we were finished.”

“Can you just drop the dragon lady bit? I want to talk to you without the usual bullshit.”

The breeze stirred again, and so I slid my arms into his shirt and was glad for it.

“How sick are you?” he asked. “You seem pretty goddamn healthy to me, doing all that yoga and whatnot.”

“I will be dead by the end of summer,” I said.

“Why aren’t you getting treatment?”