I heard, and understood, as getting it right was a lesson I’d inadvertently taught her by getting it so very wrong in marrying her father…and then her stepfather.
On the other hand, my youngest, Camille was just as outwardly girlie as Fenn (when Fenn was allowed to be).
And she was still with her high school girlfriend, who was even more girlie, Joan.
There was one box we all fit in to.
We were humans.
Any other box was just plain bullshit.
“I mean, this is the FBI,” Fenn ranted on. “They’ve got nothing on those poor women and you’re in Bumfuck?”
“The FBI is not keeping me informed of the intricacies of their investigation, but I feel sure they’re diligently investigating.”
“The intricacies are, when that dime-a-dozen, crazy piece of shit didn’t get what he wanted from you, your hand in marriage after he asked you every week for three years, he kidnapped two women, roped Michael, Russ and Alicia in on his bullshit, and now you all are living under the control of one serious sick fuck.”
I gave it a moment, and then said, “I love how much you love me.”
My daughter gave it a moment and replied, “Obviously the United States Air Force doesn’t care much you’re dealing with this, not because they’re assholes, just because our remit is a whole lot broader. But I told my squadron commander that shit is real at home, and if some miracle occurs, even if it’s a random TDY that brought me closer to you for a while, I want it.”
“Don’t tell your sister, but you’ve always been my perfect daughter.”
“You say that shit to her too, don’t you?”
“I don’t recall,” I lied. “But in my old age, my memory is slipping.”
“You’re using that way too soon.”
“Hmm…”
“I met someone,” she announced, and I perked up. “His name is James. He flies F-16s. He’s a total ass. And I think I’m falling in love with him.”
For reasons I was not about to reflect on, visions of taciturn Cade Bohannan standing in my reading room, arms crossed on his chest filled my head.
Particularly around the “total ass” part.
But the last part too.
I mean, it had not been mentioned…
But there was Cade. And Celeste. And Jace and Jesse.
But no word of Mom or Mrs. Bohannan had been breathed.
“It does tend to go that way,” I said to my daughter.
“If I don’t kill him in the meantime, maybe we can arrange leave at the same time and he can come meet you.”
Oh.
Well then.
This was not a perkiness false alarm.
“I’d like that,” I replied.
“Whatever, I’m probably going to break his heart.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I’m Warren Packard’s daughter, am I not?”
Warren hadn’t only done me in, he’d had two other wives, both of whom had divested him of a lot of money, so he got smart, and from then on, only had girlfriends.
And he had a lot of those.
I did my best not to affect how my girls saw their fathers, one way or the other.
I also had to admit I might have failed in this.
But relations were strained between Fenn and Warren, and Camille and Angelo because Warren was Warren, and Angelo was Angelo, and my girls were smart and strong. So for the most part, their fathers dug their own graves.
“You’re also my daughter, and I didn’t repeat the sins of my mother, did I?”
I could hear the smile in her voice over thousands of miles when she decreed, “You rock the pep talk, Mom.”
“Thank you, lovely. Now stop worrying about me and stop worrying about falling in love. It’s a good thing, regardless of how terrifying it is. Go off and keep our country safe.”
“Okay, that ‘terrifying’ thing might have taken some of the shine off your pep talk.”
I laughed in a way I was sure she heard it and that it was genuine.
We talked longer, not much, but her call was the pep talk I needed.
And things were looking up. Since the call, I got an email from Delgado’s office manager, Elvira, and they’d arranged a meet with Polly’s nephew, so maybe my new lighting could go in.
This news had set me to hitting go on a variety of other things, which would be additions to the things I’d pressed go on over the last few days (namely a new office desk and furniture and accoutrement for the deck and the pier).
I’d also found this nifty software that you could enter a room’s measurements, it gave you a mockup and a bunch of digital tools so you could design your own closet.
I spent at least an hour (okay, maybe two) on that and was still enthralled by it when instinctively, my head came up.
Celeste was at the back door.
Her hand was pressed against the glass.
Her eyes were aimed to me.
Her expression said it all.
The sour taste was back in my mouth as I got up, walked to the doors, opened one and said to her, “Go to them, I’ll be right down. Is there a direct path or do I need to use the road?”