The Big 5-Oh! (8 page)

“Good. I considered the alternative, and I decided against it.”

Jared laughed at that. “I’ll have Georgia set you up with a prescription for therapy over at the clinic. I want you to go in every weekday through the end of next week. Can you do that for me?”

“I think so.”

“Do you have someone to take you, Doris?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to see you driving that car anymore, do you hear me?”

“I won’t.”

Mrs. Hennessy had been visiting a friend over on Captiva a few months prior, and she’d backed her car right into Harry Stafford's golf cart.

“You call me if you can’t get someone to drive you, all right?”

“I will, Jared.”

“Now let's go see Georgia, and she’ll fix you right up.”

Mrs. Hennessy linked her arm through Jared's, and it reminded him of someone else. Liv had held his arm that
way when they’d gone for a walk around the neighborhood the previous night.

“Hey, Mrs. H, how have you been?”

Rand stood at the counter chatting with Georgia and Audrey as Liv and Jared came around the corner.

“Dr. Hunt, your son gets more handsome every time I see him,” Doris told him.

“Oh, and he's well aware of that, I’m sorry to report.”

Rand smacked his father's arm and let out a laugh.

“To what do I owe this visit?” Jared asked him, after walking Doris to the door.

“I thought you might want to grab some lunch,” Rand replied. “They’ve opened a new Chinese place down on Pine.”

“Oh, you don’t want to go there,” Georgia interrupted. “It's all grease and MSG.”

“I happen to enjoy a little grease with my food now and then,” Rand teased.

“Well, I was thinking more about your father's constitution, Randall.”

“Whoa! O-kay now!” Jared exclaimed. “That's the last time I want to hear any office conversation that revolves around my constitution, thank you very much.”

“So what do you say, Dad? Lunch?”

“I told the Gordons I’d stop out and see them this afternoon. I think I have enough time to grab a bite beforehand, but how about something a little less risky than Chinese?”

“Whatever. You’re paying. You name the place.”

“Oh, I see. The salad bar it is then.”

“C’mon, Dad. Have a heart.”

They reached a compromise on the way to the Lazy Flamingo for fried grouper sandwiches.

“So what are you up to today?” Jared asked as he stirred sugar into his tea.

“Well, I thought I was going to take the boat for a spin, but my date bailed.”

“Sorry to hear that. Losing some of that mojo of yours?”

“Absolutely not,” Rand declared, wiping his mouth. “Just the opposite. I’m too young and virile for Liv to handle.”

“Liv,” Jared stated.

“Yeah, I asked her out, and she turned me down flat.”

Jared tried not to smile, disguising it with a knitted brow and serious expression. “Did she now.”

“Said she wasn’t going to date me, no way, no how.”

“Harsh.”

“That's what I told her. Harshing my mellow, big time.”

“Harshing your mellow,” Jared repeated.

“Yeah. Stomping my mind. Blowing my zen.”

“Ah.”

Jared wished he’d been a fly on the wall for that conversation. Not that he found any joy in his son's mellow being stomped, but he figured it wasn’t any great betrayal as a father that he was relieved Olivia Wallace wasn’t suddenly dating his son.

“Maybe you should give her a run.”

Jared jerked back to the moment and stared down his son. “I beg your pardon?”

“If I’m too young and intense, maybe she’d give an old guy like you a run for his money.”

“I don’t know what to respond to first.”

“Okay, sorry. You’re not an old guy exactly. But next to me, come on, Dad. Let's face it.”

The waitress set the check down in front of Jared and, without missing a beat, he slid it across the table toward Rand.

“Thanks for lunch,” he said in his best grandpa voice. “Now this old geezer needs to be on his way.”

Rand laughed and pushed the check back at Jared. “I must have left my wallet in my other pants.”

“Whippersnapper.”

“Relic.”

“When do you go back to school again?”

Prudence looked around and realized how far away her meadow home was now. She gazed at the sparkling pond and the rocky hills that surrounded it, and she wondered if she would ever again make it home to her meadow.

“Everything is so different here,” she told Horatio in a soft, thoughtful bray.

“Different can be good,” her wise friend replied. “Sometimes different builds a bridge between what you are and what you can be.”

O
h, Clay is harmless,” Hallie said with a chuckle as Liv stood at the glass door, the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder.

“He is so annoying,” Liv replied as Clayton touched the flagstone at the far end and then flipped backward for another lap across the swimming pool. This time, it was the backstroke.
“He's out there right now after I expressly asked him not to let himself into the pool area while I’m here.”

“He didn’t ring the doorbell, did he?”

“No. He slit the screen and unlocked the patio door.”

“Oh, boy. And that woke you up?”

“Yes. Well, no. Boofer's reaction to a stranger on the property woke me up.”

“Oh,” Hallie sighed. “How is Boofer?”

Liv glanced around. Missy Boofer's little doggie T-shirt was bunched up above her midsection, and the lampshade collar was squished sideways as she lay sound asleep on one of the throw pillows on the sofa.

“I expect her to start snoring any minute.”

“I guess she got over that whole ‘stranger danger’ thing then.”

“She did,” Liv replied, turning her attention back toward the pool just in time to catch a glimpse of Clayton adjusting his low-riding swim trunks and tying a neon tie-dyed towel around his waist. “I’m not sure I ever will, though.”

Hallie laughed. “I’m sorry, Liv. I’d forgotten all about the cast of characters down there.”

“Impressive. How did you manage it?”

“Motherhood. It takes up too many brain cells. I’m on spring break overload. Have you met anyone else in the neighborhood?”

“I met Jared Hunt on the plane down here, and then discovered he lives right behind Josie.”

“Ooh, Jared. Isn’t he yummy?”

Liv decided not to reply. “And I met his son, Rand.”

“Rand is there?”

“On holiday while school is out. I guess he's a teacher.”

“He teaches American Lit at an all-girls school in England.”

“Can you imagine that?” Liv asked, and then she chuckled at the thought of an audience of teenage girls pretending to listen to monologues about Keats and Faulkner but thinking only of the bronze, godlike instructor at the front of the class. “Anyway, they had a barbecue my first night here, and I went over and met some of the locals. Had some great Mexican food. Carne asada on the grill. Some
cherry riso
sausage. Oh, and these little pies called
empinojos
.”

“Empanadas?” Hallie giggled.

“Whatever. They were delicious.”

“It sounds like you’re having a good time then. Admit it.”

“If I could get the chance to sleep past dawn, I’d be golden.”

“So have you made any plans for your birthday?”

Liv sighed. “Not yet.”

Outside, Clayton shook his head in swift, side-to-side gestures, as if he had long locks of hair to drip dry.

“We were talking about it last night, Liv, and here's what I think you should do—”

“Listen, I’m going to take another shot at reasoning with Michael Phelps’ great-grandfather before he leaves. Can I talk to you later?”

“Sure. Give my love to Jared and Rand, will you?”

“Will do.”

Liv pulled open the slider and stepped out to the patio just as Clayton reached the screen door at the other side.

“Mr. Clydesdale?” she called, but he didn’t flinch. “Mr. Clydesdale?” she shouted louder, but to the same reception.

Liv noticed Clayton's two small hearing aids still strewn on the table, and she hurried to fetch them, cringing as she placed them in the palm of her hand. Then she jogged across the lawn after him.

“Mr. Clydesdale!” she exclaimed, as she touched him lightly on the shoulder. He jumped and turned to face her with both fists raised, causing Liv to step back in defense.

“You forgot your hearing aids,” she said, mouthing the words with animation.

“Hah?”

“Your hearing aids. You left them.”

She opened her hand and showed him, feeling a little wave of queasiness as she did. Having some old guy's waxy ear buds in her hand made her want to rush back into the house and scrub all the way up to her elbows.

“Ah. Thanks.” He snatched them from her without ceremony and twisted them into his ears like knobs on a bedroom door.

“Mr. Clydesdale, do you remember that we spoke about your not using the pool until Josie comes back?”

“Josie?” he said, and then he softened for just an instant. “When's she coming back?”

“Not for two weeks,” she explained.

His gruff scowl back in place, he declared, “Can’t go two weeks without doing my laps.”

“Okay,” Liv replied, searching for another tack. “And you don’t feel like you could use the community pool for two weeks?”

“Too far,” he said, adjusting one of the hearing aids. “I’d have to crank up the car for that. It's better to just walk across the street.”

“O-kay. Well. How about you do your laps a little later then?”

“Early riser,” he snapped.

“I believe you. But I would like to
NOT
be an early riser. And the dog barks every morning when you let yourself in, and it wakes me up.”

“Mangy dog.”

“Mr. Clydesdale, please. I’m on vacation. I’d like to sleep in past sunrise each morning.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Then you won’t come earlier than nine?”

“No earlier than nine. Got it.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “You want to swim with me some morning?”

Liv cocked her head like a dog who heard a whistle two blocks over. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Swim with me,” he snapped. “Maybe get some lunch.”

The old guy wiggled his eyebrows at her, and Liv took an instinctive step backward. Was he
flirting with her
?!

“Um, no. Thank you. But … no.”

Turning on his heel and stomping away from her, he shot one curt wave into the air and back at her from above his head.

Liv started to comb back her hair with both hands, then froze, staring at them in midair. With a second thought, she dropped her arms to her sides and headed into the house to give those hands a good scrub.

Liv wondered when it was in history that bathing suits went from the knee-length shorts and tank-top versions to a couple of patches of fabric held together by a few strings. Stretching her very white leg across the length of the lounge chair, she looked down at the one-piece alternative she’d hardly been able to find in the sea of midriff-bearing options in Hallie's summer closet.

“I am not wearing a bikini,” she had told her friend in no uncertain terms.

“I don’t even own a bikini,” Hallie had retorted. “These are just two-piece bathing suits. They cover more skin than your bra and panties.”