It’s so nice that he does the lessons.” She cups her hand near her mouth. “Madison says he’s smoking hot. She’s got it bad for him.”
Madison can go pound salt.
She turns again. “Honey, one minute.” Honey looks like he wants to swallow a gun.
She takes us aside, out of earshot of her family, and what comes next surprises everyone.
Beth starts crying.
She goes on and on about how many times she thought of all the awful things she’d said to us over the years. She says that now that she has kids she can’t imagine someone, anyone, treating her girls that way. Honestly, I wish she would’ve had her come to Jesus moment a little sooner. Like a decade sooner. But I accept the apology now nonetheless. After the Sean Gorman incident, this is a big deal.
It’s twilight by the time I get back to the Cottages. I smile the entire walk home, a sense of satisfaction reaching deep into my bones that I haven’t felt since breaking my big story all those years ago. Things are definitely looking up for me.
On my way back to the Austen, I think about Jake and wonder what he’s up to. I even contemplate knocking on his door. Except, I never know which Jake I’m going to get. I have no idea how Mr. Unpredictable will behave. And since I’m not ready to come down from the high of today’s victory, I scrap the plan.
As I’m passing by the house, I spot a tall figure under the porch light. He looks like my father, but it couldn’t be him. It couldn’t because this man is standing awfully close to a woman with shoulder length brown hair, their posture undeniably intimate. And everyone knows my father doesn’t date.
Until I draw closer and I see the smile. Holy crap, it is my father. This is major breaking news. Great news, in fact.
Pulling my phone out of my tote, I text my sister.
Me: Alert. Alert. Eugene Anderson is finally romancing a woman!! Hallelujah and praise the Lawd.
An incoming text rings, and I immediately mute it. My father and the mystery woman are talking in whispery words, and I don’t want to be caught perving on them.
Jackattack: OMG!!!!!!
Meanwhile, just like a perv, exactly like a perv, I creep closer and crouch behind an azalea bush. Which is when my sister calls.
“I can’t talk and spy at the same time!” I whisper hiss.
“What does she look like?” Jackie whispers back.
“Did you not hear me? Hold on––” I glance at them again. “Tall, thin, brown hair. Dressed kinda shabby in worn jeans and a chunky, faded blue sweater.”
“Eh, I dunno,” my sister, the bitch, says. “Dad deserves better than that.”
“What are you talking about?! That’s exactly what Dad needs. I’ll tell you what he doesn’t need––another social climber that will ask him to make changes he’s not ready to make. Like sell the hotel and travel the world. Dad would hate that.”
My sister laughs. “Who are you, Dr, Phil now? Don’t draw up the marriage contract yet. She might be a vendor.”
“Yeah? You stroke your vendor’s hair when he makes a delivery to the office?”
“Never mind,” she says, giggling.
For years we’ve been gently trying to encourage him to date. My father has the biggest heart and so much life to live. He should share it with someone that values and worships him. He doesn’t deserve to be alone for the rest of his life because he was burned by one conniving fraudster.
“Oh, oh, Jackie I gotta go. I think he’s going to kiss her and I need to get closer!”
“Don’t hang up on me! Wait! Take pictures––” I hear Jackie hiss right before I hang up. Take pictures…the hormones are making her crazy.
Sticking my phone in the back pocket of my black skinny jeans, I move from the azalea bush to the evergreen hedge.
They’re standing even closer now, huddled together. I watch as he leans down and places a brief kiss on her lips, this mystery woman who seems to have stolen his heart right from underneath my nose. She must have because knowing my Dad, he wouldn’t be here with her if he didn’t have feelings.
It’s about bloody time.
He’s wasted too many of good years pining for Zelda. I know more than a few single women in town who have been going after him with a full court press only to be disappointed with a gentle rebuttal.
“What are you doing?” a scratchy male voice inquires.
Startled, I whip around. Jake