Bliss and the Art of Forever - Alison Kent Page 0,39
with some of the same furniture, the same area rugs, the same paintings and drapes, but one thing had never changed: Vaughn Drake talking back to the TV.
“That is the biggest load of crap I’ve ever seen passed off as forensic science.”
Arms crossed, Callum leaned a shoulder on the study’s doorjamb. “I don’t know why you keep watching that show, or any of the spin-offs. I’ve never heard you say a nice thing about it. Or to it.”
“Hey, Cal.” Muting the television, Callum’s father turned in his recliner to glance over his shoulder, his wire-framed glasses sliding to the end of his nose. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Thought I’d dropped off the hellion and run, huh?” he asked, coming into the room and sitting on the fireplace hearth at his father’s side.
“If she’s a hellion, she gets it honestly,” he said, settling back into his chair and leaving Callum to chew on some uncharitable thoughts about Addy’s mother. “She at least asks about feeding the fish. You never did.”
Callum hung his head and laughed. “I probably owe you a small fortune in goldfish.”
“I’ve got it all jotted down in my ledger.”
He wouldn’t doubt it. His father was a CPA who’d grown up charging his siblings interest when they’d borrowed his allowance. “Thanks for letting Addy sleep over tonight.”
“No thanks necessary. Love having her.”
“I know you do. But she’s my daughter. My responsibility. This should be the last night for a while that I need to work,” he said, cringing as he did, because no matter what he’d said to his mother, tonight wasn’t about needing to work as much as it was about the candy he wanted to make for Brooklyn.
“Seems to me you’re handling that responsibility just fine. But it does sound like you’ve been talking to your mother. Or at least listening to your mother, since she’s usually the one to do the talking.”
“Actually, she didn’t have a lot to say. She was too busy cleaning.”
His father harrumphed. “She was cleaning when I left for work this morning. She was cleaning when I got home. Maid service comes tomorrow.”
“I should’ve guessed,” Callum said, the picture from the big TV flickering to light the room.
His father let that settle, then asked, “You still set to close on the house in the morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Even though you’re working all night?”
“It’s just signing the papers,” Callum reminded him, thinking back to the hell he’d gone through to get to closing. “I was wide awake for the offer and the inspection and the never-ending mortgage process, and damn if I ever want to do that again as someone who’s self-employed.”
His father chuckled. “That place is big enough that it should last you awhile. When are you going to tell Addy?”
“That we’re moving?” He shook his head. “I’m trying to decide if it would just be easier to get the whole house set up first. I mean, it’s not like it’s going anywhere. And I can’t imagine a six-year-old hurricane living out of boxes.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who wasn’t jumping with joy to get settled after buying a new place.”
Callum laughed. “I’ll jump once I’ve recovered from Valentine’s Day. Assuming I ever do. I figure we’ll be moved in before the end of the school year. Addy’s going to want all that space come summertime.”
“You started interviewing for child care yet?”
“It’s on my list. Shouldn’t be too hard to find someone. I thought about talking to one of the high school counselors. Or the youth minister at Second Baptist. See if they could recommend someone.”
His father nodded, then raised his hand and shook one finger, tapping it to his nose as he thought. “You know Billy Bower across the street? He mentioned the other day that his granddaughter was going to need a summer job. She’s sixteen, I believe. I know she’s got a car.”
With the location of his new place, a car would be a necessity. “Thanks. I’ll give him a call,” he said, pushing to stand. “I’d better head out.”
“See you at breakfast?”
Callum reached down to shake his father’s offered hand. “Will there be bacon?”
Laughing, the older man clasped Callum’s hand between both of his. “If I get to the kitchen before your mother, there will be.”
Dropping her bag of books on the kitchen table, Brooklyn headed for her bedroom to change out of her pants that were sticky with ice cream and covered in cat hair, only to be reminded of the chore she’d left undone.