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That was sweet. “What about Ashton?”
Warren shrugged. “Ashton has always been most interested in what Ashton wants.”
Huh. “But you still have a relationship with him, right?”
Warren gave Bridget a look that said he wasn’t sure what he should say. He took a moment to say anything while he threw some steaks on the grill. Once the steaks were on, he joined us at the patio table. He took Bridget’s hand. It wasn’t hard to see that such love existed between them.
Warren smiled at me to put me at ease. “I love both my sons with all my heart, but Ashton . . .” he cleared his throat, “is more like his . . . mother,” he hesitated to say. “Relationships are all about what’s in it for them. Ashton mostly calls me when he needs my help. And Sawyer never calls me now, so there’s that.”
The information about Ashton surprised me. He was a fun-loving guy, but now more than ever I was glad Ashton said he wasn’t interested in Macey. Was this why he was divorced? Things to ponder on later. “I’m sorry,” I responded to Warren.
He squeezed Bridget’s hand. “It’s my own fault. I should have handled things differently.”
“Me too,” Bridget whispered.
“Is my son happy?” Warren begged to know.
I nodded. “I think so. He loves his job. He’s saving money to start his own practice so he kind of lives in a dive right now and he drives a beat-up old truck—”
“Old blue?”
“Yeah.”
Warren smiled. “That was my dad’s old truck. I gave it to Sawyer when he graduated from high school.”
“It’s seen better days, but Sawyer seems to be fond of it.”
A hopeful smiled engulfed Warren’s face. He reached across and patted my hand. “I’m glad he has good friends.”
I inadvertently winced at the title.
Warren and Bridget laughed.
Warren gave me a pointed look. “You don’t like the word.”
I tucked some hair behind my ear. “I like it just fine.”
Warren stood up to check on the steaks. “You can’t kid a kidder.”
There was no kidding. I knew where Sawyer and I stood.
Sawyer didn’t show up in time for dinner, so we ate without him. Man, could Warren make a good steak. And Bridget was my new culinary hero. Forget Duncan Hines, Betty Crocker, and did I dare say it—Frankie? Bridget made this triple layer chocolate cake that made me want to kiss her. Even better, she was willing to give me the recipe. I loved her. I also loved how welcome they made me feel, how interested they were in my job and me as a person. They even offered to come to one of my girls’ soccer games if it was all right with Sawyer. My own dad hadn’t even come to one this season. When mom was alive, they never missed one.
After I helped clean up and Sawyer still hadn’t shown up, Warren went out to clean his grill. Bridget informed me he was meticulous about it after each use. It also allowed me to have some time alone with Bridget. Maybe Warren sensed I wanted some. There were things I wanted to ask her that I didn’t feel comfortable asking Warren. But they were things I needed to know about the woman who was married to my dad, and even about Ashton since he worked for Dad.
Bridget and I sat on the family room couch, which was not mohair. It was a comfortable leather couch like I had. Both of our Dr. Peppers fizzed in their ice-filled glasses on the coffee table. Warren had a pebble ice maker. These people were like my soul. Bridget rested her arm on the back of the couch with her head in her hand. I noticed those dirty fingernails again. They were from helping Warren weed his vegetable and flower gardens.
“You can ask me anything.” She read my mind.
“I don’t want to seem nosy.”
“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be informed.”
“Well, in that case,” I smiled, “I want to know the why of it all.”
“I’m not sure any of us can answer that, but I can tell you some contributing factors. Mind you, there are two sides to every story.”
I nodded. That was good of her to say, especially because I desperately wanted Josephine to be the bad guy in any story she had to tell. But she had to have some redeeming qualities for Sawyer to love her so much. I couldn’t see any of them, but they had to be there. Deep down. Maybe?
“When I first moved in next door to take care of my father, I didn’t even realize Warren was married. I frequently saw Warren with Sawyer in the backyard or doing yard work in the front. It wasn’t until Sawyer started cutting our lawn and he mentioned his mom that I knew there was a mother here. By that time, Ashton was out of high school. He flitted in and out, and between colleges and jobs, sometimes he lived at home, but mostly not. The first time I saw Josephine was late one night when my father and I had returned from an emergency room visit. She looked like she was sneaking into her own home.”
