“I wasn’t going to.” There was an undertone of amusement, but sympathy, too.
“Has Trevor opened up to you any?”
“Initially he did. More recently, he’s been closemouthed. Less angry, though. It’s as if once he realized how badly he’d screwed up, he became a little less focused on the flaws of his bumbling parents.”
“One of his teachers commented in passing that Trevor blew him away with a paper.”
“A paper? He actually turned one in?”
“Apparently.”
“Huh.”
On a spurt of resentment, she thought, Crisis hits, his kid turns a corner for the good and mine for the bad. How fair is that?
Fair enough. Trevor was older. He should be more mature.
“So, did you get her talking at all?” Richard asked.
“Only long enough for her to yell that all I ever do is tell her what to do. I don’t listen.”
There was a moment of silence, long enough for her to remember Richard, too, had told her she didn’t listen.
“I was pissed,” he said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“You read my mind?”
“Hard not to.”
She sighed. “Maybe I don’t.”
“From all I can gather, your daughter was popular, amazing at dance—according to Trevor—and smart. Not a cheerleader only because it would have gotten in the way of dance. Homecoming princess.”
“Straight-A student. That’s more important than popular.”
“Agreed. She’s gotten mixed-up lately. Doesn’t mean you didn’t raise a great kid. Give yourself some credit.”
Molly drew her legs up, dug her toes into the sofa cushions and rested her forehead on her knees. “Thank you. I needed somebody to say that.”
“You’re very welcome.” The undercurrent of amusement was in his voice again.
She cleared her throat. “So. I was thinking.”
When she didn’t continue immediately, he made an interested sound.
“What if you and Trevor were to come over for dinner?” Molly said in a hurry. “If we ruled no talk about…you know.”
This silence had her antsy. She lifted her head. Did I just say that? What was I thinking? That we could all be friends?
“There’s nothing I’d like better,” he said. “Well, that’s not true. Dinner without our kids, that might be better.”
She laughed, her unease settling. She loved how he could do that.
“I can run it by Trevor,” he said. “But from what he says, Cait won’t willingly be on board.”
“Maybe it should be a surprise party.... No, forget I said that. There’s a disaster in the making. I tried that already, didn’t I, and you and Trevor didn’t like it very well. Okay, it’s a lousy idea.”
“No, it’s not,” Richard said, to her surprise. “Chances are Cait feels isolated, but is scared of being pushed into a decision before she’s ready. Maybe something like this could make her feel…supported.”
“And maybe,” Molly said slowly as the realization hit, “I’m involving you and Trevor when I shouldn’t be. You wanted to be kept in the loop. That’s, um, a courteous, long-distance relationship, not an up-close and personal one.”
“I like up-close and personal.”
Her pulse tripped. “You’re being nice,” she said lightly.
“No.” His voice deepened some. “I almost asked you out once.”
“Once?” she repeated stupidly. “During one of our congenial little chats?”
Richard chuckled. “High school dance.”
Oh, God. That’s why he’d loitered beside her, hands in his pockets, making pointless conversation? He was waiting to get her alone?
Her heartbeat had rocketed now. “I didn’t have a clue.”
“I noticed. And realized I’d picked a really stupid time and place to ask. Pretty poor month and year, too, when we were bound to be dealing with each other over Trevor. I decided to wait until he’d graduated.”
“Oh.” Brilliant. I am so out of practice. Then, Do I want this? “Instead, we may be cograndparents.”
“Not quite what I pictured,” he admitted. “Anyway, I thought it was fair to tell you.”
A panicky fear that the subject might be closed for good had her speaking up. “I…don’t know what I would have said. You’d gotten tangled up in my mind with Trevor. By the time of the dance, I guess I knew you weren’t the irresponsible parent I’d imagined you, but…”
“You were still mad.”
“Yes.”
“If you hadn’t been?”