A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(99)

Bethanne paid an inordinate amount of attention to the soup. “Your father might not appreciate your accepting either offer.”

Andrew considered that for a minute, then shrugged. “I say if Max wants to send us wine as a wedding gift, we should let him. Courtney agrees. I wouldn’t turn down anyone else’s gift—why should I reject his?”

He had a point.

“Does it bother you, Mom?”

“No…I think it’s a wonderful gesture.”

“Me, too.” Andrew slid off the stool and got two bowls, which he carried to the kitchen table, setting them on the quilted place mats.

“Did…did Max ask about me?”

Andrew appeared to find her question highly amusing. “He did.”

Apparently, her son was going to force her to beg for every scrap of information. Andrew pretended interest in collecting silverware from the drawer.

“Are you going to make me ask?” she demanded.

He grinned. “I shouldn’t be so cruel, should I?”

“No, you shouldn’t,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. She waited impatiently for him to fill her in on their conversation.

“He told me some more about how the two of you met.”

She smiled at the memory.

“You didn’t tell me you rode on the back of his bike.”

“More than once,” she admitted proudly.

“Now that’s something I’d like to see.”

In the beginning she’d been terrified by every bump and curve in the road, but gradually she’d learned to relax and enjoy the sensation of freedom. If the relationship between Max and her developed, and that remained a huge question, she might eventually learn to ride herself.

“He didn’t ask how it’s going with you and Dad, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Andrew said. “I think it’s been difficult for him not knowing, but he said he promised you this time with Dad and that he’s a man of his word.”

“Your father gave him the same opportunity,” she reminded Andrew.

“Well, sure, but he had Annie reporting to him every ten minutes. Max doesn’t have anyone feeding him information.”

That was true—and probably just as well.

“We only spoke for a few minutes. I told him I’d discuss the wine and champagne with Courtney and get back to him in the morning. But basically we’ve decided to accept.”

She felt her son’s scrutiny as if he expected her to weigh in with an opinion. Like she’d already said, the decision was up to him and Courtney.

“You’re sure you don’t have anything to say about this?” he pressed.

The doorbell chimed just then, and to her surprise it was Grant. Andrew tensed as his father followed Bethanne into the kitchen. She returned to the other side of the counter while Grant leaned against it.

Father and son eyed each other, and Bethanne sensed the sadness in Grant. He missed his son and wanted the situation to be different.

“I hope you don’t mind my dropping in like this,” Grant said casually. “Annie told me you were discussing the rehearsal dinner tonight and I thought I should be here, too. I’d like to be part of this wedding.” He risked a glance in Andrew’s direction. “If that’s all right.”

Andrew didn’t comment. “Mom and I were just talking about the wine.”

Bethanne sent him a warning look, which he ignored.

“I have a couple of friends who are familiar with wine varieties. Should I check with them?” Grant asked.

“I believe we’ve already got the drinks covered, Grant,” Bethanne said pointedly. “Thanks for offering, though.”

“Oh.” Grant looked somewhat taken aback. “I thought you two were about to discuss the menu. How do you know if you want white wine or red? Actually, it might be a good idea to order a case of each.”

“Like Mom said,” Andrew told him. “We’ve got that covered.”

“It isn’t that we don’t value your input,” Bethanne was quick to add, wanting to avoid a disagreement.

“What kind is it? Sauvignon blanc? Merlot for the red? That’s what I’d recommend.”

Bethanne looked to her son for help.

“I’m not sure yet, but I know it’s going to be the best wine available,” Andrew said. “Along with the wine, the same person’s giving us three cases of champagne for the reception.”

“Someone’s giving you wine and champagne?”

Bethanne nodded.

“Really?” Grant’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s no small expense. Who’s being so generous?” He rested his hands on the counter behind him. “Is it one of my clients?”

Since he obviously wasn’t letting this go, Bethanne left it to her son to explain.

“It’s Max Scranton,” Andrew said after a brief hesitation.

“Who?” Grant asked, and then comprehension came into his eyes. “Max? That biker? You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Max owns a wine distribution company,” Andrew informed his father.

“His brother’s a partner,” Bethanne corrected.

“True,” Andrew said with a shrug, “but Max owns the larger part of the business.”