The Fix (The Carolina Connections, #1)(9)
Chapter Four
Keep Calm and Go Irish
NATE
“Lookin’ good, old man!” I said to my father as he lounged in his favorite black leather recliner. This was the first time I’d seen him in regular clothes instead of pajamas since the heart attack, and I was relieved to see more color in his cheeks. It had been two weeks since my return to town and almost a week since I’d been back to my folks’ house. Work was a shitstorm and I’d been doing my best not to bother my dad any more than necessary, but it was nearly impossible to decipher whatever organizational puzzle he worked by. Bailey and I were having a hell of a time keeping our heads above water. Not that we would ever tell him that.
Remote in hand, he paused the football game he was watching and turned to me with a hopeful expression. “For the love of God, please tell me you brought something to eat that doesn’t taste like cardboard.” It was no secret that my mom’s cooking wasn’t stellar on a good day, so I could only imagine what it tasted like with all the salt removed.
“Sorry.” I held my hands up to show they were empty. “Mom only let me visit on the condition I brought nothing into the house that you might find even remotely edible. I got a TSA pat-down from her in the foyer.”
“Eh, I figured as much.” He settled back into the chair. “Distract me, then. Tell me what’s going on at work. Did Mark get that permit squared away? I’ve got the number of that guy at the—”
“All taken care of,” I interrupted.
“Yeah, but we’ll be in deep shit if every ‘i’ isn’t dotted on that one,” he insisted.
“I know. Mark and Doug have both been a big help, and Bailey knows a lot more than she led us to believe, so we’re handling it. I promise we’ll keep you in the loop and let you know if we need help. I’ve already called you a dozen times with questions, and I may be permanently banned from the house if Mom catches us talking shop,” I warned. “That was another condition for my visit. She should consider a stint with the Secret Service if this whole retirement thing doesn’t work out. Was she such a ball-buster with her students? If so, I’m starting to worry about what may have actually been in all those homemade cookies they used to send home with her.” That got a smile out of him.
“Your mother’s a saint.” He un-paused the game.
“Yeah, I know. What’s the score? Are we winning?”
He gave me a disgusted look. “Of course we’re winning. We’re the Irish.”
At halftime I went in search of my mom and some doctor-approved refreshments. She sat at the kitchen table swiping at her iPad.
“Hey, Mom.”
She held up her hand as if to stop me while her eyes stayed on the tablet. “Nathan, don’t even think about asking for a beer. Your dad cannot have alcohol no matter what kind of pathetic faces he tries to make.”
I grinned and went over to kiss the top of her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I reassured. “What are you reading?”
“Oh, just looking for some healthy recipe ideas. Nothing I’ve made so far has been a hit and I never realized how much sodium is in pre-packaged food. It’s ridiculous!”
She shifted her attention my way and caught my eyes. “Sorry—enough of that. I want to hear about you. How are you, Nate? Are you and Bailey hanging in there?”
“By our fingernails, but yeah, we’re doing fine. Don’t worry.”
“Anything I can do to help?” She tilted her blond head.
“Sure. You can get one of those stupid ‘Hang in there’ cat posters and give it to Bailey—it’ll be hilarious to watch her try to be polite when she opens it.” I smiled.
She slapped the back of my hand and scoffed, “Don’t torture your sister.”
“I’ll consider it. I suppose it would free up some time in my schedule.”
Her hand went to my arm more gently this time. “I know your dad can’t say it yet, but you need to know that we both appreciate so much that you came home to take over.” Okay, I guess it was time for the serious portion of the visit. “It’s no secret that this wasn’t your plan, at least not yet, so I wanted to say thank you again. I don’t know what we would do without you.” She started to tear up.
“Whoa, whoa—no need to get all mushy. You know I’m happy to do it. And besides, I’m not really taking over. Dad will be back when he’s feeling better.” She scowled at me so I hurried on, “I mean, I know it won’t be full-time like before, but still.”
My mother shifted in her chair. “I know. There is no way he’ll give up the business completely, but you know your dad doesn’t do things by half measure. I’m just afraid he’ll gradually ramp things up until we’re right back where we started, and we may not be so lucky next time.” She had a point. “So that’s why we need to use this recovery time to find him some hobbies.”
Say what?
“The doctor said there are plenty of activities he can do that are great for keeping blood pressure down and can be quite engaging. I’m hoping if he becomes interested in something else he might not be so eager to dive back into the deep end.”