Mitch laughed. “Dumbass, that was a participation ribbon. You sucked at track and field.”
“Screw you.” He hung up. Mitch called right back and Ryan answered it. “What?”
“The throttle sticks a little shifting from first to second and you might have to goose it a little. Try not to dump Lauren off the back.” Then he hung up.
It was too late now to call Lauren back and see if she even wanted to go on the ride he’d just suffered taking his brother’s crap for. She was probably already in the shower, and then she’d be watching TV with Nick. It would give him a good excuse to call her tomorrow afternoon since, judging by the looks of his schedule, he wouldn’t be pulling into Whitford until pretty late.
Yawning and forcing himself to close his eyes, he wondered how long he’d be able to keep up with driving back and forth from Brookline to Whitford on the weekends. Eventually, balancing his business with seeing Lauren was going to wear him down and one or both would suffer. But he couldn’t see giving up either of them, so he’d make it work. Somehow.
*
When her phone rang, Rose wasn’t surprised to see Liz’s number pop up on the caller ID. At the end of the last message Rose had left on Liz’s voice mail, Rose had threatened to send one of her brothers to New Mexico in person if Liz didn’t call her back.
“Don’t you dare send any of the boys here,” Liz said once they’d said hello.
“Then don’t ignore my calls.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Then send a text that says ‘busy, will call later’ instead of breaking up with a long-term boyfriend and then dropping off the face of the planet. I watch Criminal Minds and 20/20. I worry.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. What’s going on in Whitford? The condensed-digest version.”
Rose sighed. “Pretty much the same as was going on when you left.”
“What’s going on with Ryan and Lauren?”
She put the phone on speaker and picked up her knitting. She loved newfangled technology. “Nobody’s really sure. If they lived in the same state and she didn’t have a teenage son to consider, they’d probably be pretty serious. But it’s about time for him to go back to Brookline and nobody knows what’s going to happen. He’s not saying.”
“He probably doesn’t know. And being a Kowalski, he’s probably too stubborn and thickheaded to ask.”
“Speaking of stubborn, thickheaded Kowalskis, when are you moving home?”
Liz laughed and it made Rose smile. Her girl sounded less tired than she had in years, as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. A weight named Darren. “I’m not, Rosie. But I’m going to try to come home for Christmas.”
It was more than she’d had of Liz in the past and it would be enough. “I’m going to ask Sean and Emma if they’ll come, too. It’s been too many years since we’ve all been together for Christmas. Did you have a good time at the wedding?”
Rose knit half a row of stitches before Liz answered. “Yeah, I had a good time.”
There was an odd note to her voice, as if she really didn’t want to talk about the wedding, but before Rose could poke at her for a reason, Liz claimed she had to get to work and they said their goodbyes. She sat in her rocker, mindlessly knitting rows, until she heard the kitchen door open and close. A few seconds later, Andy wandered into the living room.
“There you are,” he said. “Not used to seeing you sit still.”
“Liz called, so I sat down to knit while I talked to her and just kept on sitting.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Good.” She would have said more, but she got sideswiped by a coughing fit. She was definitely coming down with something.
Andy scowled. “You don’t sound good.”
She waved her hand at him. “Probably the cold that went around. I’ll be fine.”
“What are you knitting?”
She held up the length of black she’d knit, showing him the gold stripes across one end. “A scarf for Nick for Christmas. In Bruins colors, of course.”
“I know you really want a grandkid, Rose, but you should probably let Ryan and Lauren figure out what they’re doing before you get too attached to the boy.”
Her hands stilled, holding the needles tight. Mostly she wouldn’t undo all her work by pulling a knitting needle free of the stitches and sticking it in his leg. “I know that. I’m knitting him a scarf, not writing him into the family Bible.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I’m just saying that Nick Carpenter works for the lodge now, so I’m knitting him a scarf for Christmas.”
“Okay.” Andy helped himself to a seat on the sofa, which annoyed her. Shouldn’t he be working? “Are you knitting me a scarf, too?”
“No.” She’d been knitting him some fisherman’s mittens, but now she was considering giving them to somebody else. The mailman, maybe.