“Not really. Sometimes there was tension and I’d notice they weren’t really speaking to each other, but they never fought that I can remember.”
“Every couple has disagreements. They probably did you a disservice by hiding what is a normal aspect of any long-term relationship from you.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Says the foremost relationship expert in the room.”
“Admittedly, I’ve never been married, as you well know. But I’ve spent a lot of time around married people, including my parents and sister, and I’ve had several serious relationships myself. Nobody agrees all the time.”
“Really?” She propped her chin on her hands. “Several serious relationships?”
“I believe we’re talking about your past, not mine.”
“But we’re not supposed to be,” she pointed out. “I’m supposed to be getting to know you, not the other way around.”
And one burning question she had was why he’d moved to town seven years ago. As far as she could tell, Max didn’t do any of the activities that drew people to Whitford who weren’t born and raised there. There was no snowmobile, hunting or fishing gear in the garage and nothing about him screamed outdoor activities.
“How did you end up living in Whitford?” she asked, because the only way to find out was to ask and it would, hopefully, change the subject from her parents’ divorce. “I mean, you’re from Connecticut and you don’t seem to have any ties here. Why on earth, of all the places you could live, did you pick Whitford?”
“You picked here.”
“Because my aunt Jilly lives here, so I have her and Uncle Mike and my cousins. If I didn’t have family here, I probably would never even have heard of Whitford, never mind moved here.”
“This was my grandmother’s house.”
She almost dropped her coffee mug. “What? How did I not know you had family here?”
“I’m not in the habit of telling people my life’s history.”
“Maybe not, but people here had to know your grandmother. I can’t believe Fran or Rose or somebody didn’t know her well enough to know her grandson bought her house. Or did you buy it? I just assumed...”
“I bought it.” He shrugged. “She was aging and, after my grandfather passed away, my mother started worrying about her. It got really bad when they started talking hip replacement but, financially, Grams couldn’t move to Connecticut to be near my mom until she sold this house. Unfortunately, the market had tanked and nobody even looked at it.”
“So you bought it and moved up here to the middle of nowhere so your mom could take care of her mother.” Tori felt an urge to sigh, but she squashed it. That was so sweet.
“Gram couldn’t put off her surgery any more. Since I lived alone and already ordered most of my purchases online, there was no reason I couldn’t move to Whitford.”
He said it in a very matter-of-fact way, but Tori didn’t think his decision had been purely rooted in logic. Online shopping was one thing, but moving hours away from your entire family to a place where you had nobody was another, especially for an introvert like Max. Obviously he loved his mother very much.
Then another thought occurred to her. “Did you come visit your grandparents? When you were a kid, I mean.”
“A few times, but my dad and Gramps didn’t get along very well.”
Tori sipped her drink, studying Max over the rim of her glass. He was not only a puzzle, but he was one of those “spilled milk” puzzles where the pieces were all the same color and all a person had to go on were the slight variations in shape. She’d never had any patience for those kinds of puzzles, but she found Max a lot more intriguing than five hundred pieces of spilled milk.
She’d heard a lot of gossip about him, but she’d never heard anything pre-dating seven years ago, when he’d moved into town.
“What’s your grandmother’s name?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Grams.”
“Funny.”
“Caroline Dobson.”
Tori waited for him to elaborate but, of course, he didn’t. His tendency to answer questions with only the information requested was probably why she hadn’t heard this story. She highly doubted Fran had ever said, “Hey, Max, you wouldn’t happen to be related to a woman named Caroline Dobson who used to live in Whitford, would you?”
Before she could ask more questions, he set his empty mug on the table and leaned back against the cushions. “Smart, kind, patient and, of course, wants to be a mother.”
“What?” She was lost.
“My list of desirable qualities in a wife. That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, right?”
“You said it would be nice if she liked trains, but it’s not necessary, and I assume the same goes for sports. And it would be nice if she’s attractive, but also not necessary. You are not a picky man.”