Bethany nodded and put her glass down next to his. “You’re starting to get the idea. Jason’s been through enough without…without more. I’m trying to keep his life as normal as I can, but it’s…well, Tayra left a mess behind.”
Leaning back, Slade glanced around. He was pretty sure Bethany wasn’t just talking about a legal mess. Up close he could see that the house was in dire need of repair. The paint peeled and flaked from the siding. One window that he could see sported a jagged crack. The porch sagged, and he could only imagine what it looked like inside. “This was Tayra’s place?”
Bethany nodded. “She saved up and bought it. She also wouldn’t…she hated taking handouts. That’s what she called them. I did what I could for Jason—started a college fund savings account for him, got him stuff for Christmas and his birthdays, took him for vacations and on a lot of weekends, but Tayra…” She let the words drift.
Slade tried to remember more about what Tayra had been like. He’d only met her a few times, and most of those times, she’d seemed devoted to Brock. Well, except for that one time. She’d also seemed quiet—like the type of woman that any guy ended up wanting to protect and shelter. She’d seemed…well, a little lost, frankly.
But ‘seemed’ was the operative word when it came to Tayra. She’d walked away from Brock and her marriage as if it hadn’t mattered. Slade could remember going after her to try and find out what had happened. He’d never gotten an answer. But he had—
He pushed that memory away and made a quick decision. “Have dinner with me.”
Bethany blinked and tipped her head to one side. The wind stirred her curls and Slade wondered if they were as soft as they looked. “What? Wait, how did we get from you writing me a million dollar check to having dinner? Plus there’s nothing in the fridge to fix.”
“Got a place that delivers? Chinese? Pizza? Who said it’d be a million?”
“You’re offering more? Or less?”
“I’m offering dinner.”
She gave a nod and picked herself up off of the porch. “Joe’s does take-out. Burgers only. But they’re good. Guess if you’re staying, you’d better come in after all.” She picked up the tray. Slade stood, grabbed his jacket, and pulled open the screen door for her. It squeaked on hinges that needed oiling.
Inside, Bethany headed for the kitchen, and he glanced around.
The house had an open floor plan, with the kitchen in back, separated by a counter. An ancient TV sat in one corner of the room, gathering dust. The furniture—a couch, two chairs—had colorful blankets draped over them. He caught a glimpse of frayed threads and decided the throws were there to cover up worn upholstery. But the place was clean.
Wooden floors gleamed. The kitchen looked organized, the tile counters swept bare and tidy. No signs of magazines, but a couple of books—one kid’s picture book and three books with mathematical-sounding titles that left his eyes glazing—sat on a coffee table made out of a slab of wood.
He followed Bethany into the kitchen. Artwork—Jason’s, he presumed from the Crayon images—covered the fridge, held in place with magnets from around the country. He glimpsed the Golden Gate Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, and the Grand Canyon. He touched one. “Tayra travel around?”
Bethany nodded. “A lot. Or she did after…well, before Jason started school and after Brock, and BC. That was before cancer.” She handed him a single-sheet menu. “Pick something out. I’ll have a burger and fries, the junior meal for Jason, and I can recommend the onion rings. Phone number is on there, and since you’ve got the fat checkbook, you can pay.”
Slade smiled, but decided that this was not going to be one of his better dates.
***
Bethany watched Jason wolf down the last of the fries. He ate like most kids—filling up a hollow leg. She winced at the image. The problem was, Jason did just about have a hollow leg. Or at least a leg that needed to be fixed.
Dangling a fry in front of his mouth, Jason asked, “You knew my mom?”
Jason was getting over his shyness of Slade—fast. He’d gone from wary to chatty as the two guys bonded over burgers. The kitchen smelled of grease from the fast food.
Slade finished his burger and drank some of his soda. The liquid slurped in his straw. He put down the cup and said, “Yeah, I knew her. A long time ago. You play baseball?” Slade gestured to one of the pictures Jason had drawn of a batter.
Jason shook his head, then nodded. “On the Wii. But mom only let me play for an hour on Saturday.” He made a face, then glanced at Bethany. “Are you going to be my mom now, Aunt Bethany?” Her throat tightened. Before she could answer, Jason fixed a stare on Slade. “Are you my dad?”
Slade’s face reddened. He stood and scooped up some of the debris from dinner. “You done with these fries?” he asked Jason.
Jason stuffed the last two fries into his mouth and nodded. Bethany stood. Her chair scraped on the floor as she pushed it back. They’d eaten at the kitchen table instead of at the counter, like she usually did when it was just her and Jason. “Come on, Jas. Time for a bath and bed.”
She herded him down the short hallway to the bathroom, but Jason called over his shoulder, “’Night, Mr. Slade. Thanks for the burger. If Aunt Bethany lets me, I’ll show you how to play baseball on the Wii tomorrow.”
Bethany fought down a smile. She had no idea what Slade was doing while she got Jason into his bath, his PJ’s, and his bed. She pulled the sheets up over him, turned down the blanket, and Jason asked, “Can Mr. Slade read me a bedtime story?”
She sat on the edge of his bed. “It’s just Slade, remember.”
“Oh, yeah, like just Batman. I like him.”
She ruffled his hair. “Slade? You do? Why?”