A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(34)

“The riot act, Grandma? What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s an expression based on an old English law. It just means Robin’s going to be furious—and she’s going to let us know it. I don’t care. She can say what she wants. We’re safe now and that’s all that matters.” Ruth set her pajamas on the second bed and sank into the mattress. “I don’t mind telling you, after a day like this, I’m completely exhausted.”

“Me, too,” Bethanne said. Both Ruth and Annie had questioned her repeatedly about the time she’d spent with Max. It wasn’t that she didn’t have an answer, because she did. Her thoughts, however, were ones she wanted to keep to herself. Although she was unlikely to see Max again, she couldn’t help being curious about him. She’d wanted to ask about his wife, Kate, and what had compelled him to take to the road three years ago—and stay there.

Annie glanced from one to the other and frowned, disappointment flashing from her eyes. “You’re going to bed? Now? Don’t you want to go downstairs and gamble?”

“Tonight?” Ruth asked. “Not me.”

“Me, neither,” Bethanne concurred.

“You mean we’re spending the night in a casino hotel and no one wants to play the slot machines?”

“Not tonight, sweetie,” Ruth said again, and yawned.

“I’ll wait until Vegas,” Bethanne added. She was tired; besides, she’d already promised herself a forty-dollar limit, the money she’d earned in tips, and didn’t want to start spending it yet. “But, Annie, if you want to check out the casino, go ahead.”

“Okay,” her daughter muttered, but she didn’t sound enthusiastic. In fact, she stayed where she was, her expression perplexed and a bit glum.

Ruth took the first shower and Bethanne went next, brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas. When she came out of the bathroom, Annie was on the phone, talking to Grant.

With her cell against her ear, Annie paced the room, looking guilty as soon as she saw Bethanne.

“Mom’s here now. Do you want to talk to her?”

Apparently, Grant did, because Annie thrust the phone at her. Bethanne hesitated, then reluctantly took it. She didn’t owe Grant any explanations and she didn’t plan on listening to his complaints, either.

“Hello, Grant.”

“It seems the three of you had quite an adventure,” he said. Although his comment was mild enough, Bethanne sensed his concern, mingled with irritation.

“We’re fine.”

“Bethanne, don’t you realize what a crazy risk you took?”

“Like I said, we’re fine. Nothing happened.” She didn’t want or need a lecture from him.

“You rode off with a biker? A biker?”

“His name is Max, and like I told your mother and Annie, he was a perfect gentleman.”

Grant was silent for a moment, as though weighing how best to continue. “Annie suggested they might be Wild Hogs. You remember the movie? Businessmen escaping the corporate world? She even said they went skinny-dipping, just like in the movie.”

“I…don’t know about that. What I do know is that they came to our rescue and I’m grateful.”

Again he paused. “Promise me you won’t do anything that foolish again.”

“Grant, I’m not a child.” She appreciated his concern but at the same time found his reaction condescending. She hadn’t been in any danger; her instincts told her as much. Grant still didn’t seem to grasp that she was an independent woman now. While she understood his feelings, she wasn’t about to let him scold her.

“I know that, and it’s your business if you want to take those kinds of risks. But don’t drag Annie and my mother into it.”

The tightness of his words told Bethanne that he was struggling to hold on to his temper.

“I think we should change the subject,” she said, unwilling to get into an argument. He was right; she’d probably been far too trusting. Still, she didn’t feel she’d had any choice.

“Fine,” he snapped. “We’ll change the subject.” But he didn’t introduce a different topic; neither did she.

“Would you like to speak to Annie again?” she asked a few seconds later.

“Please.”

Bethanne handed her daughter the cell.

Turning her back on both her mother and grandmother, Annie walked to the window. “All right, Daddy, I will. I know.” This was followed by a short silence. “I know. Okay. Goodbye. I’ll check in tomorrow night, I promise.” She closed the cell, then turned around and stared at Bethanne.

“What?” Bethanne asked. She’d crawled under the sheets and opened her book. Ruth had turned off her light and was asleep, or pretending to be.

“You upset Dad,” Annie said. “All he cares about is our safety. There was no need to get huffy with him.”

Rather than argue, Bethanne shrugged. “Did I?”

“Yes, you did,” her daughter challenged. “Can’t you see how hard he’s trying?”

“I know he is,” Bethanne conceded. Annie had a point; she’d been short-tempered with Grant. In theory she’d moved past the divorce, past the pain, and yet every now and then, when she least expected it, those old resentments would rear up, taking her by surprise.