The Promise (Thunder Point #5)(62)

He wasn’t messy, she thought. And he wouldn’t ignore pot in the backpack.

“That’s a pretty scary list,” she said. “I’ll have to give this some more thought.”

“You do that.”

* * *

When they arrived at Scott’s mother’s house, the kids came flying out the front door. “Peyton’s here! Peyton, Peyton!” They completely ignored Scott and wrapped their little arms around Peyton’s legs. She tried to ignore the way their arms felt, the way their smiles and shining eyes filled her up inside. She could not afford to fall in love with them.

Scott’s mother, Patricia, was a small woman of angular lines, but she had a very tall personality. Her hair was colored a soft brown with blond highlights, teased for height, her nails were manicured and shiny red, she wore plenty of makeup and she was businesslike. “You look tired, Scott. You’re not getting enough rest.”

Indeed, he had not, Peyton thought with a slight blush. And it had been glorious.

“You saw me a few days ago, Mother. I’ve gotten plenty of rest since then.”

“I wonder if you take care of yourself,” she said. “Do you eat right?”

“Yes,” he said. “Enough,” he added. “Stop it.”

Patricia was a paralegal who managed a law office, and Peyton had no trouble imagining all the partners taking orders from her. And she could also see where Scott got at least some of his good looks; Patricia was a fetching woman. She had never remarried after her husband’s premature death, and Peyton found that surprising.

Suzanne, his mother-in-law, was softer, rounder, seemed more nurturing and kind of cuddly. She had a quick smile, a high-pitched laugh, plump hands with clipped nails, had let her hair go gray in a very attractive short cut. At first glance she seemed far less threatening than Patricia, but Peyton knew looks could be misleading. “Scott, the kids are so well behaved, Serena would be so pleased with how well you manage with them. Nice to meet you, Peyton. Are you and Scott dating?” she said.

“That’s really not our business, Suzanne,” Patricia said. “Are you?”

“We’ve been out to dinner a couple of times,” Scott said.

“So, are you single? Widowed? Divorced?” Suzanne asked.

My God, these women are as bad as my mother! “Single,” she said after a moment of hesitation.

Scott had been so right. Within ten minutes Peyton could see that these women might be polar opposites, but were bent on a single mission—to have control over their grandchildren. Suzanne was Grammy and Patricia was GiGi—they were even named appropriately.

Scott’s older sister, Nancy, showed up for dinner with a twelve-year-old son and a fourteen-year-old daughter. Aside from being thrilled to see their uncle Scott, they were self-contained—iPad, texting, TV—entertaining themselves while listening should Patricia ask them to do something or inquire as to what occupied them.

If Peyton had been a little intimidated by the grandmothers, Nancy put her quickly at ease. “I didn’t think I’d get a chance to meet you unless I went to Thunder Point to see Scott. He talks about you, you know. I know he got you in the clinic by sheer accident. He claims you are a much sought-after PA who happened to be in the area right when he was looking for help.”

“That pretty much sums it up, though I don’t know about the much sought-after part,” Peyton said.

“She has a great deal of experience,” Scott said. “She suggested we show the kids her family’s farm—a quick weekend before school starts.”

“Tell me about the farm,” Nancy begged. “What kind of farm?”

Peyton happily explained about the pears, potatoes and sheep, about the huge extended family that included Uncle Sal and Aunt Sophie’s vineyard, Lucas’s Basque restaurant in San Francisco, Adele having a baby soon, the side of the family that fished off the coast near Tillamook. There were other family farms and restaurants and fishing fleets between Portland and Reno. “There will be a lot of people around the farm this weekend, picking pears, getting ready to dig up potatoes. Then my family will end up at the vineyard for a few days between the pears and potatoes to help harvest the grapes. In the spring it’s lambing and shearing. They have to get the wool off early so the sheep can get good sweaters before the cold comes. All the kids love the lambing season. They’re not that crazy about picking pears.”

“And where do the pears go?”

“Mostly to Harry & David and surrounding food retailers. Potatoes go to a lot of restaurant suppliers, grocery chains and Frito-Lay. It’s a pretty large farm.”

“What a wonderful way to grow up,” Nancy said.

“It’s a demanding way to grow up. My father brags that he takes them off the breast and into the grove or fields.”

“What kind of talk is that?” Patricia asked tartly.

Peyton laughed. “That’s a proud Basque farmer talking. He swears he took it right out of the Old Testament, but I suspect that’s pure legend, not fact. He also claims we descended from royalty and my mother whispers that that’s bull. Basque businessmen, fishermen and landholders like a lot of family to help them get the job done. I have three sisters and four brothers and too many aunts, uncles and cousins to count.”

When Suzanne took the kids outside to wear off a little energy before dinner, Peyton casually remarked, “She seems like a sweet lady.”