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“We were lucky. No doubt about that,” I said.
I glanced toward the front of the room, where Pop was listening intently to Soren, and smiled to myself. He looked good in his blue suit and his tie that matched Mama’s champagne-hued dress.
“How are you?” Arabella asked me. “You’re the one brother I never run into during my work. The restaurant is fabulous, by the way. As good as anything I ever had in LA.”
“Thank you kindly,” I said, pleased. “Have you come in often?”
“A few times here and there. I came in last month for my birthday. Sat at the bar and had great food and service.”
I thanked her again. “Do you miss the city?”
She tilted her head, obviously considering my question before answering. “I miss my friends from school. There was a man, too. The one that got away, so to speak.”
“Really?” For whatever reason that surprised me. It shouldn’t have. Arabella was gorgeous and smart. Any man would be lucky to have her.
“He fell for my best friend. In the end.”
In the end. A strange turn of phrase.
“What about you?” Arabella asked. “Are you involved with anyone?”
“No. No time.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it was a convenient way to avoid the question. “The restaurant keeps me busy.”
Arabella nodded, forehead wrinkling. “I understand. I can’t even seem to find time for a friend, let alone a mate.” She paused, cutting up a piece of tomato and spearing it and a piece of cheese onto her fork. “Living out there with my dad is lonely. Especially since half the time he doesn’t know who I am.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Some days, yes.” She brought her fork to her mouth and murmured appreciation. “Delicious. Your brother’s trying to bully me into putting him into memory care.”
Bully? Strong word. Rafferty would never act that way to anyone. Not even his to his self-proclaimed nemesis, Arabella Collins.
Rafferty, presumably having heard her, turned toward us. “I’m not bullying you. The truth is simply that you’re not equipped to care for him by yourself. You’re in over your head, and you know it.” His strong jaw clenched and his eyes glittered with aggression and annoyance.
“You’re not a memory doctor,” Arabella said tightly.
“And you haven’t taken him to a specialist, which I, in no uncertain terms, have suggested multiple times.” Rafferty speared a piece of cheese with his fork and smeared it through ribbons of balsamic reduction with a violent flick of his wrist.
“No offense, Dr. Moon, but he’s my father, and I’ll do as I wish. I’ve had more than enough education to know how to care for him.” She met Rafferty’s gaze. I swear I could see sparks of anger and disdain flashing in the space between them. “I don’t need you interfering. If I put him into one of those places, I’ll never get him back home.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Rafferty asked tightly. “Not to be unkind, but his quality of life is diminished living out there by himself.”
“He’s not by himself. I’m there. It’s the entire reason I moved back here. So that I didn’t have to put him into one of those awful places that smells of urine and pea soup.”
Rafferty shook his head. “You may think you have this under control, but what happens when he walks out into the snow one day and freezes to death in the woods?”
Arabella drew in a sharp breath. Her hand shook setting aside her fork. “You have a lot of nerve, you know that? How dare you question my intentions.”
“I’m not questioning your intentions, merely your actions.” Rafferty shook his head again. “But clearly you’re not going to listen to me, which is a shame. Because you’re letting your feelings toward me cloud your reasoning.”
I needed to do something before this turned into a full brawl. “Raff, maybe we should start the toasts?”
“But it’s not time for the cake yet,” Rafferty said. “We’re supposed to do it during dessert.”
“And God forbid we do anything other than exactly whatyouwant,” Arabella said.
Rafferty clenched his fork so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Why are you even here?”
“The better question is why you seated yourself next to me,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “Since you were clearly in charge of the seating chart.”
