Resolution (Mason Family 5)

“You’re here as a guest of Holt,” Gramps says as we approach the seating area. “But are you here with Wade?”

My cheeks flush because I don’t know how to answer.

We reach the chairs in the nick of time, and Gramps chooses a seat in the back row on the far end. He collapses with a hearty exhale. Then he pats the seat next to him.

I sit hesitantly.

“You know,” he says, catching his breath, “I’ve never seen Wade with a woman.”

“Really?”

“Oh, I’m sure he gets a little something somewhere, if you know what I mean.” He winks at me. “But he’s never brought anyone around. Not with me, anyway. Maybe to his parents, but I’ve never witnessed it.”

This information rolls around my brain. I didn’t expect it. Sure, he’s standoffish, but I never imagined him to be that much of a loner.

The idea makes me sad for him. It’s possible he’s with someone in his own private time like Gramps said, but how much of that time even exists with how much he works?

“I used to spend a lot of time with Holt,” Gramps says. “When he was little, he used to visit me in the office—Ollie too. I’d set them up with fake jobs to do, and they’d eat it up.” Gramps chuckles to himself. “Coy and Boone come by and watch golf with me sometimes. Boone used to do it to hide from Holt. But he’s straightening up now thanks to Jaxi and that little pipsqueak of theirs. That little girl is as cute as can be. Have you met her?”

I shake my head.

He hums. “I’m sure you will.” He digs around in his jacket pocket and pulls out two spearmint Life Savers. He hands me one. “How long have you known Wade?”

“Not long,” I say, figuring that was a better answer than a few weeks.

He pops his candy in his mouth. I follow suit. It tastes like men’s cologne and a hint of tobacco.

“He’s a tough cookie. But I’m sure you know that,” he says, rolling the candy around his mouth.

I suck on the Lifesaver, too polite to spit it out, and contemplate my situation. Is it ethical to pump information out of an eighty-five-year-old man?

I’m not sure until I look at Gramps. He’s grinning a toothy grin with a twinkle in his eye.

Game on.

“I’ll bite,” I say, making him laugh. “Why is your grandson such a tough cookie?”

He keeps chuckling. “That I don’t have the answer to, darlin’. But I do know this—I’ve never gotten anything worth a damn without working for it, if you know what I mean.”

Gramps reaches over and pats my hand. Movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I turn around.

Wade sits beside me, watching his grandfather with a heavy dose of skepticism. “You didn’t fill her with a bunch of garbage, did you?”

Gramps chuckles. “Just a Lifesaver.” He looks at me and winks. “How’s your brother, Wade?”

“He’s … happy.”

I laugh. “That’s a good thing. Don’t say it like he just drank poison.”

Wade makes a face and adjusts his tie.

“Want a Life Saver, Wade?” Gramps asks.

“No, but thank you.” Wade leans back out of Gramps’s sight and makes a face in disgust.

I giggle.

The violins begin to play louder as people file in and take their seats. Gramps gets into a discussion with a gentleman on his other side, leaving Wade and me to ourselves.

I take in the beauty of the gardens. There are so many moments I could capture, and I wish I’d have brought my camera.

“What are you thinking?” Wade says loud enough only for me to hear.

I turn to face him, not realizing how close he is to me. My breath sucks in past my lips.

Whether it’s the reflection of the lights strung overhead, or it’s his eyes themselves, there’s a twinkle there that takes my breath away.

“I was thinking about …” You. “About all the pictures I could take here,” I say.

His brows pull together. “Like what?”

“Well …” I glance around. “Imagine if you stood at the pillars at the entry and got the Hardwig house in the background at the perfect angle to capture the glow from the setting sun.” I close my eyes and imagine the feeling of contentment that picture would bring to anyone viewing it. “Or if you stood in one of the windows of the Hardwig and captured a view of the gardens from that vantage point. Or … who knows what’s all in this estate? This is just a little piece.”

I open my eyes to see him watching me. “Those sound intriguing.”

He means it. I can tell by the tone he used and the inflections in his voice. He listened to me as a professional, as someone with a passion for what I do.

“Thank you,” I say, my cheeks aching.