Yeah, all twenty-some years of it. Ryan hoped his thoughts weren’t mirrored by his expression.
“Let’s say I get everyone a drink,” said Tag, clearing his throat. “Honey, would you like some wine?” His hand trailed along her arm as he turned to walk into the kitchen. Their fingers caught, just for a brief second, clinging, as if the contact was essential, and Ryan’s breath went shallow in his chest. It was a subtle move but spoke volumes about the intimacy between them. It felt significant, even if it really wasn’t. It left him feeling as if he’d seen something raw and private. Like walking in on your parents watching porn. Only she wasn’t one of his parents. She wasn’t even old enough to have ever been one of Ryan’s babysitters. This girl was just that. A girl.
Do-si-do, indeed.
Chapter 7
“Yeah, her name is Daisy, and she looked too young for me to go out with,” Ryan told Bryce over the phone as he gulped his morning coffee. They’d already discussed the insanity of their dad wanting to retire and had since moved on to the surreal topic of Tag and his teenage girlfriend.
Last night, Ryan had stayed just long enough to force down the chicken marsala his dad had made, which he refused to admit had been delicious, and then he’d hightailed it out of there. On foot. He hadn’t even called for one of the horse-drawn taxis, instead choosing to stomp all the way back into town, which had seemed like a good idea until it started to thunderstorm. He was soaked by the time he got back to his hotel, and he’d nearly been struck by lightning, but it was worth it. He couldn’t sit there a minute longer in that kitten-picture-infested cottage trying to make chitchat with the prom queen while his father gazed at her adoringly and touched her hair. He touched her hair! It was just wrong on so many levels. The age difference was the obvious issue, but the speed at which this relationship appeared to be moving was another significant fact to consider. Ryan’s mother had only been gone for eight months, adding to his unease. Wasn’t there some sort of obligatory grieving period? His father was moving on much too fast, and it was just . . . wrong.
He paced back and forth on the tiny balcony of his hotel room overlooking Main Street as he spoke to his brother and watched a steady stream of tourists disembarking from the various ferries. A marching band could be heard practicing in the distance because apparently this Lilac Festival thing included a parade. A parade. His father wanted him to sit and watch a parade. Ryan shook his head and peered over the railing. People were scurrying around all over the place, setting up banners and outdoor food stands. And then, of course, the smell of fudge, always the smell of fudge. Ryan could feel a cavity forming just from the aroma.
“Exactly how young are we talking here?” Bryce asked. Ryan could picture his brother driving his Porsche down Interstate 5 toward Sacramento where the Taggert Property Management headquarters were located. It would be about six thirty in the morning in California, but his brother always liked to be the first one in the office.
“I’m guessing twenty-five, maybe? She’s a preschool teacher, and get this—apparently the preschool is right next to a retirement center. The old people help take care of the little kids.”
Bryce chuckled. “Well, maybe that’s her angle. Maybe what she’s really interested in is putting Dad in a home. That would make more sense.”
Ryan didn’t chuckle back. “No kidding, and maybe we should let her because he’s clearly lost his ability to reason.”
“Twenty-five. Damn. I don’t think I could land a twenty-five-year-old anymore. So how did they seem? I mean, how serious are they? Not very, right? She might be after his money, but Dad can’t be very serious about her, right?”
Ryan practically shuddered. “It was . . . revolting. Dad was all goofy and smiley, and he kept calling her honey and sweetheart and my darling. Seriously? My darling? Who even says that anymore?” He took another hit of scalding coffee, because that’s just what his mood needed. More stimulants. “What if he marries this girl? Honest to God, Bryce, I don’t believe in ghosts, but if I’m wrong and ghosts are real, then Mom is sure as shit going to come back and haunt the hell out of him for this.”
Bryce laughed again, but Ryan still didn’t. He’d seen it up close and personal. Too up close, and too personal. He understood better than Bryce what they were up against. This Daisy person had their father wrapped so tight around her finger that a chainsaw couldn’t separate them.
“Mom would make a menacing ghost, but are you sure he’s not, just, you know, having a little recreational fun? Just taking this hottie out for a test drive?” Ryan heard a car honking over his brother’s phone. No surprise. He’d seen Bryce drive, and honking was inevitable.
“Oh, he’s having all kinds of fun all right. Do you know what they like to do?” Ryan replied.
“Do I dare ask?”
“Well, aside from the obvious, they go biking.”
“Biking? You mean, like . . . on bikes? Bicycles? Please don’t tell me they ride a tandem.”
This time Ryan did smile. His father on a tandem would be something to see. “I don’t know about that. Probably. And they bird-watch. And it gets even better. Guess what else they do?” It was worth building this up because it was just so damned absurd.
“What else do they do?”
“They . . . square-dance. Dad now square-dances.” Ryan held the phone away from his ear until his brother’s very expected laughter quieted down. “You think it’s funny, I know. It is funny. But what’s not funny is the way this girl has her claws into him. What the hell is her story? I mean, this is Dad we’re talking about. Not some handsome, jet-setting, aging movie star or something.”
“It’s got to be the money,” Bryce answered, honking again. “If she’s as young as you say, then that’s got to be it. You said she wants to travel, right? He’s probably her ticket off that island.”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, what if she convinces him to go to some foreign country and then he gets kidnapped and held for ransom? Maybe she has some real boyfriend pulling all the strings and this is just some kind of con.” Bryce loved a good conspiracy or caper, apparently even if it included their father.
Ryan shook his head, even though his brother couldn’t see it. “This isn’t an episode of Dateline, Bryce. Plus, I don’t think she’s that clever, unless she’s a really good actress. If she hadn’t been draped all over Dad, I would have thought she was just a really nice, sweet girl.”