It's Never too Late - By Tara Taylor Quinn Page 0,74
the job—they couldn’t have a new hire calling off.
“I traded with someone on third shift and had a neighbor lady, Veronica, sleep over,” Jon continued. “Abe’s pretty clingy and the doctor says it’s okay if I pander to that a bit, just so long as I also get him out and socializing. I figured puking was a good excuse for pandering. Anyway, the doc says it was just a twenty-four-hour thing. He’s fine now.”
Mark listened, and his mind wandered, too. What if Ella still wanted to marry him? Outrageous as the idea sounded, he was seriously thinking about asking for full custody of their child.
“If you worked nights, when did you sleep?”
“When he napped, mostly.”
“How’d you do on your test?”
“Didn’t ace it, but I’m sure I passed.”
If a twentysomething guy could raise a kid alone, then he could certainly do it.
“You ever have time to go out?” he asked now, trying for a light tone as he felt out his own situation.
“Not much.” Jon chuckled.
“That ever get you down?”
Taking half of his peanut butter sandwich in one bite, Jon shrugged. “Sometimes, but not as much as having no folks or family around. Now that’s a downer.”
Agreed. “Still, you’re such a young man to be raising a child alone.”
“It’s better than not having my son at all,” Jon said. “And really, he’s a fun little dude. I like having him to come home to.”
“Bet it puts a damper on your love life, though. No time to date, huh?”
Not that Mark cared a whit about that for himself at the moment. With Addy moving back to Colorado at the end of the semester...
“Nah. The problem is, I don’t want to. What with school and work and taking care of Abe.”
Something registered within Mark, a distant memory. Or understanding. He didn’t give up school because he had to. Just like Jon wasn’t giving up dating because he had to. He’d given up school because keeping him and Nonnie together had been more important to him.
He didn’t see that the realization changed anything about his current situation. He didn’t know what it mattered. He just felt...different.
“You’ve got time,” he told Jon, packing up the garbage left from his lunch. “When the right woman comes along, you’ll feel differently. You’ll know.”
What the hell had he said that for? Like he knew what he was talking about?
Unless he did.
“In the meantime, I have a proposition for you.” This wasn’t about him. Life wasn’t about him. Life was about perspective.
“What kind of proposition? You’ve already done so much for me.”
“I live with my grandmother. She’s in a wheelchair and doesn’t get out much, and I’m looking for things to keep her off the computer. She loves kids and since we don’t know too many people here yet, I was thinking maybe some night this week, when we’re both off, you could bring Abe by to visit with me and Nonnie so you can have some time to yourself to do whatever you want to do.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“You’d be doing me a favor.”
“Then I’ll bring him by, see if he and your grandmother hit it off, and we can take it from there.”
Thursday night was the only night both he and Jon were off. He made a date.
And wondered if Addy would want to join them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WITH PROOF IN HAND that Randi Parsons Foster followed protocol regarding scholarships—at least sometimes—Addy went straight back to her duplex, ready to take a look at a sampling of Montford’s scholarship applications. Applicants who’d been accepted, those who’d been turned down. Anyone who applied and lost out to someone else could feel that they had a discriminatory lawsuit.
She started with the year Randi had found money for Susan Farley. Where had the money come from? And had anyone who was similarly situated been turned down due to a lack of funds that same semester?
Punching in a couple of key words, she ended up with half a page of female athletes who’d applied for money to play for Montford during the year Susan Farley had started there.
She printed off the page and added it, along with the names of the three other applicants who’d applied for Todd Moore’s position, to the folder she was preparing to turn over to Greg Richards. Every single one of those names had just become possible suspects in the Will Parsons extortion attempt.
Or possible victims in the Will Parsons discrimination suit.
She looked at her blinking cursor.
She had computerized scholarship records from the past twenty years at