Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(100)

She caught a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror. She was smiling.

So this was love. Funny how it had crept up on her, this feeling. Sure, Thing One had always been attractive, and yes, they’d had that shag three years ago. But it was odd; she almost couldn’t remember him before, when he was her father’s puppy. Now when she thought of him, she pictured his smile, his big, work-roughened hands and kind eyes. Now, she was thinking of him as…well, hers.

Yep. Hers. Nice word. Aware that she was now not only smiling but also humming, and possibly purring, Parker pulled off the highway. She had time for a stop, and Harry would appreciate the gift. Maybe. Hopefully.

* * *

NEW HAMPSHIRE NORTH SIDE Correctional Facility looked like a big box store. The men wore blue work shirts and pants, resembling custodians more than convicts. The visiting room was a cafeteria-like space, the tables and chairs bolted to the floor.

When Harry came in, Parker almost didn’t recognize him. No power suit, no sleek haircut, his gray hair now thinner and a bit scraggly. He’d lost a little weight, too, and his face was slack. “Dad,” she said, standing up. The word surprised her.

“Parker. How are you?” They looked at each other for a second, not sure what to do next.

“No touching,” the guard said, relieving them both of the awkwardness of expectations. They sat. There were several other families in the room—a man and his wife and three children were playing backgammon; a couple murmured in the corner, leaning toward each other so that only an inch or two separated them.

“So this isn’t too bad, is it?” Parker asked.

“It’s not the Drake,” Harry said.

“No.” She pulled the envelope from her bag. “Brought you some pictures.”

Harry’s face softened as he looked. They were of Nicky; she’d stopped at a CVS on the long drive in and had them printed. “He’s gotten big,” Harry murmured.

“Yeah.” She tried to remember the last time Harry had seen her son and couldn’t. Easter, maybe. “He says he has a loose tooth.”

“Is that right?”

“I can’t tell, but he says so.”

Her father smiled faintly, still gazing at the photos. “He looks like you.”

Parker snorted. “No, he looks like Ethan. Almost exactly.”

“No. Very much like you at that age.” Harry glanced at her, suddenly wary, as if he’d crossed a line. “Well. A good-looking boy, that’s for sure.” He put the photos back and passed them to her. “Thank you for showing me.”

She slid the packet back toward him. “They’re for you, Harry.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you even more.” He looked at the envelope, resting his fingertips on it. “Have you told him I’m in jail?”

Parker gave a half nod. “I told him you were in a time-out for grown-ups.”

“Maybe I could talk to him sometime.”

“Sure. That would be nice. Um, I did tell him you were in here for being greedy and breaking some rules.”

“True enough,” Harry said, studying the table. An awkward silence fell.

Okay. So they’d covered Nicky, and it was reassuring that Harry had wanted to talk to him. He might not be the best grandfather in the world, God knew, but he wasn’t the worst, either. Maybe his time in here would help her father figure out some priorities.

On to the next topic. Parker racked her brain for something neutral to talk about. “So what do you do in here to pass the time?”

Harry shrugged. “I read. There’s a gym. Sometimes we have television privileges. Go to meetings.”

“What kind of meetings?”

“Alcoholics Anonymous.”

Wow. Okay, yes, she knew her father could put away the wine and scotch. Once, when Nicky was a baby, James had driven Harry to Grayhurst and put him to bed, but Parker’d been too busy with trying to soothe her colicky child to really take note. Figured it was a case of overindulgence, not really alcoholism. “Are you… Is it really a problem? Your drinking?”

“No, Parker, it was AA or cribbage, and you know how I hate card games.” He lifted an eyebrow. “My name is Harry, and I’m an alcoholic. Didn’t really realize it till I had the DTs in here, but yes, I have a problem. I hid it well,” he added, reading her mind.

“So how long have you—”

“Oh, probably since college, technically, though I suppose it got worse after your mother left me.”

Parker shut her mouth, which was hanging open. “This is a bit of a bombshell, Harry.”

“Really? You didn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“Well. I suppose that’s good.” Harry drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

“Speaking of Mom,” Parker said, still a bit stunned. “She came to visit.”

Harry pursed his lips. Parker wasn’t sure, but that might’ve been regret in his eyes. “And how is she?” he asked.

“She’s good.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Another silence fell. She glanced at the clock; she’d been here ten minutes.

“How’s James, by the way?” Harry asked.

Parker felt her face warm. “He’s good. Um, he’s been fantastic this summer.” Should she tell her father they were together? Or maybe that should come from James. She wasn’t really sure how to handle that topic.