The Last Song

As in Blakelee Brakes. As in the national automotive chain. As in Will's dad didn't simply own an individual franchise but had probably started the entire business.

She was still trying to process that simple fact as Will pushed open the door and led her into a massive foyer centerpieced by a grand staircase. A dark-paneled library beckoned on her right, while some kind of music room opened to the left. Directly ahead lay a huge, sun-filled open room, and beyond that, she saw the sparkling waters of the Intracoastal Waterway.

"You didn't tell me your last name was Blakelee," Ronnie mumbled.

"You didn't ask." He gave an indifferent shrug. "Come on in."

He led her past the staircase toward the great room. At the back of the house, she saw a massive covered veranda; near the water, she caught sight of what could only be described as a midsize yacht parked at the dock.

Okay, she admitted it. She felt out of place here, and the fact that everyone probably felt out of place the first time they came here was no consolation. She might as well have landed on Mars.

"Can I get you something to drink while I get ready?"

"Um, no, I'm okay. Thanks," she said, trying not to gawk at her surroundings.

"You want me to show you around first?"

"I'm fine."

Somewhere ahead and off to the side, she heard a voice calling out.

"Will? Did I hear you come in?"

Ronnie turned to see an attractive woman in her early fifties, wearing an expensive linen pantsuit and holding a wedding magazine, step into view.

"Hey, Mom," he said. He tossed his truck keys into a bowl perched on the entry table, right next to the vase of fresh-cut lilies. "I brought someone over. This is Ronnie. And this is my mom, Susan."

"Oh. Hello, Ronnie," Susan said coolly.

Though Susan tried to hide it, Ronnie could tell she wasn't pleased about having been surprised by Will's unexpected guest. Her displeasure, Ronnie couldn't help but think, had less to do with the unexpected part than the guest part. Namely, her.

But if Ronnie noticed the tension, Will obviously didn't. Maybe, Ronnie thought, it was a woman thing to be able to sense things like that, because Will went on chatting with his mom with casual ease.

"Is Dad around?" he asked.

"I believe he's in his office."

"Before I go, I need to talk to him."

Susan shifted the magazine from one hand to the other. "You're leaving?"

"I'm having dinner with Ronnie's family tonight."

"Oh," she said. "That's wonderful."

"You'll like this. Ronnie's a vegetarian."

"Oh," Susan said again, turning to scrutinize Ronnie. "Is that right?"

Ronnie felt as if she were shrinking. "Yes."

"Interesting," Susan said. While Ronnie could see that it was anything but interesting to Susan, Will remained oblivious.

"Okay, so I'm just going to pop upstairs for a few minutes. I'll be right back."

Though Ronnie felt like telling him to hurry, she didn't. "Okay," she offered instead.

With a couple of long, loping steps, he was heading up the stairs, leaving Ronnie and Susan facing each other. In the ensuing silence, Ronnie was acutely conscious of the fact that as little as they had in common, they were united in their unhappiness at being left alone with each other.

Ronnie felt like strangling Will. The least he could have done was warn her.

"So," Susan said, forcing a smile. She looked almost plastic. "You're the one with the turtle nest behind your house?"

"That's me."

Susan nodded. She'd obviously run out of things to say, so Ronnie struggled to fill the silence. She motioned toward the foyer. "You have a beautiful home."

"Thank you."

With that, Ronnie was at a loss for words, and for a long moment, they faced each other awkwardly. She had no idea what would have happened if the two of them had remained alone. But thankfully they were joined by a man in his fifties or early sixties, dressed casually in Dockers and a polo.

"I thought I heard someone come in," he said, walking toward them. His demeanor was friendly, almost jocular, as he approached. "I'm Tom, aka Will's dad, and you're Ronnie, right?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she responded.

"I'm glad I finally have a chance to meet the girl he's been talking about."

Susan cleared her throat. "Will is going to be joining Ronnie and her family for dinner."

Tom turned toward Ronnie. "I hope you don't make anything fancy. The kid lives on pepperoni pizza and burgers."

"Ronnie is a vegetarian," Susan added. Ronnie couldn't help noticing that Susan said it in the same way another person might have said she was a terrorist. Or maybe not. Ronnie couldn't exactly tell. Will really, really should have warned her about what to expect, so she could have at least been prepared. But Tom, like Will, didn't seem to notice.

"No kidding? That's great. At least he'll eat healthy for a change." He paused. "I know you're waiting for Will, but do you have a few minutes? I want to show you something."

"I'm sure she's not interested in your airplane, Tom," Susan protested.

"I don't know. Maybe she is," he said. Turning to Ronnie, he asked, "Do you like airplanes?"

Of course, she thought, why wouldn't the family have an airplane? Let's just add that to the equation. This whole mess was Will's fault. She was going to kill him as soon as she got out of here. But what choice did she have?

"Yeah," she said. "Of course I like airplanes."

She supposed she had an image in mind--a Learjet or Gulfstream parked in a personal hangar on the far side of the property--but it was a fuzzy image, since the only private jets she'd ever seen were in photographs. Still, this wasn't what she'd expected at all: the sight of someone older than her father flying a remote-control toy airplane and concentrating on the controls.

The plane whined as it skirted over the trees, swooping low over the Intracoastal Waterway.

"I've always wanted one of these things, and I finally broke down and got one. Actually, this is the second one. The first one accidentally ended up in the water."

"That's too bad," Ronnie sympathized.

"Yeah, but it taught me that I should probably read all the directions next time."

"Did you crash it?"

"No, it ran out of gas." He glanced at her. "Do you want to try?"

"I'd better not," Ronnie demurred. "I'm not good at things like that."

"It's not too hard," Tom assured her. "This is one of the beginner planes. It's supposed to be idiot-proof. Of course, the last one was, too, so what does that tell you?"

"That maybe you should have read the directions?"

"Right," he said. There was something about the way he said it that made him sound just like Will.

"Did you and Susan talk about the wedding?" he asked.

Ronnie shook her head. "No. Will mentioned something about it, though."

"I had to spend two hours today at the florist's looking at flower arrangements. Have you ever spent two hours looking at flower arrangements?"

"No."

"Consider yourself lucky."

Ronnie giggled, relieved to be out here with him. Just then Will came up behind her, freshly showered and dressed neatly in a polo shirt and shorts. Both name brand, but she supposed she should have expected that.

"You'll have to forgive my dad. He sometimes forgets he's an adult," Will quipped.

"At least I'm honest. And I didn't see you racing home to help."