A New Hope (Thunder Point #8)(21)

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked. He dunked another chip. “I should’ve known better. Hell, she told me she didn’t want to be a farm wife.”

“And Mick told me being a husband and father wasn’t his scene.”

“I hope you’re not still in love with him,” Matt said.

“I don’t think I am. Not only wouldn’t I give him another chance, he doesn’t want one. But don’t give me any credit for being smart there—just look at what I put up with first. But you? Are you still...?”

He shrugged. It would be terrible to lie to her. “Some days,” he said. “When I have those days that I don’t understand why everything went to hell. My hours were terrible before we got married and I thought we were happy. She was the one who wanted to be married so bad it made her teeth ache. Why the hell would she marry me? I was the worst person for her to marry. And now she wants to have coffee. Or drinks. She wants us to be friends, to get over it, even try again...” He shook his head. “Aw, God, don’t tell Peyton that, please. I don’t want to talk about that with my family.”

“I’m not going to say anything to anyone about this conversation. But can I say one thing? It’s good to have someone like you to talk to.”

He reached for her hand. “We have some things in common. But Ginger, once we’ve gone over the details of all this crap in our rearview mirrors, we’re going to talk about other things.”

She squeezed his hand across the table. “Like what?”

“Like, can you still make little houses? Do you read anything I might like? Is there time in your life for adventure? Would you have a dog? Or a cat? Or a bird? Are you sensitive to insect bites?”

She laughed at his questions and the twinkle in her eyes was back that fast. “Do you have a dog?”

“We have working dogs, a bunch of ’em. I don’t even know how many. They’re mostly with George—they mind the sheep. There’s a golden and a black Lab around the orchard—they hunt and keep predators away from the chickens. There are no animals in the house.”

“Well, I want a dog in the house,” she said. “On the bed, in fact. And on the sofa! I want a good old happy dog who looks at me with sad loving eyes no matter how late I get home...”

“And dog hair in the soup.”

“And dog hair in the soup,” she agreed, laughing.

He lifted his beer. “You’re all right, Ginger,” he said before taking a drink.

The conversation blessedly turned from bad marriages and other catastrophes to family humor—what her brothers did to her miniature people and houses, what his sisters did to him. Peyton and Ginny were older and tried to dress up the little boys like dolls and make them play roles as their babies. He had her laughing hysterically at the tales of ten people and one bathroom. She told of the fun game her older brothers had of tossing her back and forth, until someone missed and she broke an arm. Matt told of numerous fractures on the farm, all from doing things they were forbidden to do, like swing on the rope in the barn from the loft to the ground.

They had each driven their own vehicles to the restaurant so that when Ginger went home Matt could just head north to his apartment. He walked her to her car and stood with her right outside the driver’s door. He put his forehead against her forehead. “For the first time in a long time, I’m a little bit happy. Because you’re my friend,” he said.

“Me, too. Will you do something for me?”

“Sure, Ginger. What do you need?”

“When you get home tonight will you give me a call? Just so I know you made it without problems. I promise not to keep you on the phone.”

“Sure,” he said. He looked at his watch. “I’ll be waking you up in about four hours.”

When he called her, it was already after eleven. And then they talked for two hours.

* * *

Thank God for Ginger, Grace thought for the millionth time. She was in charge of the flower shop while Grace was at the new house preparing a nice dinner for her mother and Mikhail. And sadly, she was hoping that Winnie would prove to be too fatigued to be argumentative, demanding or feisty, because there were things she had to be told right away.

Oh, how she hoped her mother liked the house. They’d all worked so hard.

Troy had gone to the airport to fetch them. Winnie and Mikhail had come by private jet. She was standing in the kitchen when she heard the garage door slide up, the hum of the Jeep as Troy pulled in and she went to the kitchen door. She saw Troy get out and go around to the passenger side. He lifted Winnie into his strong arms and carried her into the house.

“We’re here,” he announced to Grace. “Let the party begin!”

And Winnie, God bless her, blushed and slapped at him. “Stop it, Troy! My partying days are long over.”

Grace kissed her cheek while Troy still held her very capably. “I’m so glad you’re here. How do you feel?”

“Oh, you know. Just always so tired.” And then she looked around the great room and kitchen. “Very nice, Grace,” she said.

And Grace felt every tight muscle in her body relax. She was surprised she didn’t sink to the floor in sheer relief.

Troy put Winnie on her feet then helped her to the chair near the open French doors, facing the ocean, and Grace pushed the ottoman over, lifting her feet up. Winnie shrugged out of her wrap while Grace sat on the ottoman and pulled off her mother’s shoes. She held Winnie’s feet in her lap and gently massaged them.