“Who knows? She’s not talking to me.”
Ambrose winced. “That face. People write entire country albums about the look you have on your face right now. Did she steal your dog, your horse, and your pickup?”
“If she did, I’d have a legit reason to stay away from her.” Banner took a swig of his soda, wishing it were beer.
Which would be worse—if she showed up next Saturday, like they’d agreed on, or if she didn’t? Maybe the chemistry was a onetime thing. Maybe the giddy feeling he’d gotten when she’d sat on his lap to watch the movie, and the intelligence and humor he’d seen in her while they talked were all just about him being lonely and deluding himself. He barely knew her, really. Becoming infatuated with her now wasn’t
very smart. “Let’s go get me drunk.”
“No drunk dialing her. Deal?”
He walked to the pool’s edge and picked up his phone. Instinctively he checked it, then held it out to Ambrose. “Yeah, you’d better hang on to this.”
His friend shook his head. “Hopeless.”
***
Banner rang the buzzer at his mother’s sprawling modern house, even though he knew the formality annoyed her. It had never been his home. When he was a kid, they’d lived in a regular place in the middle of town.
His dad had been a bit of a workaholic, trying to give them a good life. He wasn’t home long enough to fix anything or mow the lawn, so it’d looked out of place in their tidy neighborhood. He had learned how to do that stuff from Victor, the old man who lived next door. He’d tried to fill in as the man of the house from the time he’d hit middle school. It wasn’t until he was old enough to learn the family business that Banner had developed a relationship with his father, and that ended almost as soon as it started.
Not long after his father had died, Banner had made his first few million and bought the family this house. He’d thought his mother deserved to have nice things after so many years, but more importantly it got her out of the house that had belonged to the man she’d worshipped, who’d been fond of her but never really had time to return her devotion. The indifferent way his father had treated his mother was the hardest part of forgiving him.
The door was answered promptly by Shannon, his mother’s caregiver. The pretty girl barely had the chance to smile in greeting before Rook skidded past her, barreling into Banner’s chest. Banner grabbed his little brother in a headlock and gave him an obligatory noogie.
“Stop!”
Banner did, but then threw him over his shoulder and headed for the great room.
“I’m too old for this, Banner. Put me down.”
“Suddenly, this is too undignified for someone your age?”
“I’m fourteen, not six.”
It was difficult not to point out that Rook was about the size Banner had been at eight or nine. Rook was built more like their father, small and thin, whereas Banner had taken after their mom’s brothers.
The great room was empty and spotless, other than a collection of Rook’s art supplies and his easel by the bay window. He put the boy down near his workstation and studied the grays and blacks of the bleak winter forest the paper held. Beautiful, in a quiet, sad way. His use of light and shadow were exceptional.
“You said charcoal, right?” Banner fished in his satchel and handed over the box.
“Thanks! I was on the verge of having to switch to pastels.”
Banner considered how to best frame the work when it was finished so they could hang it in the house or at his office. Hopefully, Rook was interested in selling it. He was more than good enough to sell his stuff, but he never wanted to show it to anyone. “That might have ruined your depressing motif.”
“I know, but Meadow refused to let me use her eyeliner, so the only other thing I could think of was dirt.”
“You’d have to go outside for that.”
“Yup. I told you I was desperate.”
Banner laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, I’m glad I could help, then. Has Mom been up today?”
Rook’s face fell. “No. Shannon and I got her to wake up, but she’s still in bed and staring off into space, mostly.”
“Not for you to fix.” He hugged Rook and didn’t let him go until he pulled away. “Don’t forget I’m bringing you to the art show downtown on Thursday. Where’s Meadow?”
“Yeah, I won’t forget. I have my clothes picked out already.” Rook gave a shy laugh, then started to open the box of charcoals. “Meadow is directing the guys who are working on winterizing the grounds.”