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‘jobless’ and ‘publicly drunk’ going. I don’t need to add ‘parking-lot ho’ to the list.”
“One day, you will explain to me what that means, and I don’t think it will make me happy,” he muttered, turning the ignition.
Just when I thought our “date” couldn’t possibly get worse, we arrived at my house to find my Daddy waiting on my porch swing with a Meat Lover’s Pizza. I hadn’t had fatherly approval for a “gentleman caller” since I was a senior in college. This was not going to go well.
Gabriel nodded to the porch. “Do you know this man?”
“That’s my dad,” I said. “I still haven’t told him.”
“I know,” he said. “I can leave now.”
“No, the two most influential men in my life are going to have to meet sometime.”
“Hi, baby,” Daddy said, kissing my cheek between bites of pizza. “Your mama had a sales party thing tonight. Makeup or lotion or home decor or some such thing. I never can keep them straight. I don ’t object until they try to talk her into hosting the things herself. I thought I’d surprise you, but it seems you had plans for the evening.”
“That was sweet. Gabriel Nightengale, this is my father, John Jameson,” I said, waving him and Gabriel in through the front door and leading them to the kitchen. “Daddy, Gabriel is my—”
Sire? Interfering pseudo-mentor? Guy most likely to be my first ugly undead breakup? I settled for “Friend.”
“Pizza?” Daddy asked, opening the box to display his cholesterol-laden treat on my counter.
“Oh, no, thanks, I couldn’t,” I said.
Daddy arched a brow as I pulled out a counter-height barstool for him. I never turned down pizza. Ever. “You’re not going on some crazy diet, are you?”
For a brief, wonderful instant, Gabriel looked stricken. I laughed. “No, we already ate, smart alec.”
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Gabriel said, disappearing out the kitchen door.
“Gabriel Nightengale, that name sounds familiar,” Daddy mused, chewing on a pepperoni. I could tell from the look on his face that he was searching his massive but not quite reliable memory banks for information.
“Um, he has a lot of family around here,” I said, not bothering to add that most of them were in the cemetery. “They’ve been in the Hollow a really, really long time.”
Daddy returned to chewing. Leaning against the counter, I asked, “So, what’s new with you?”
“Same old, same old.” He grinned, snagging a second piece. “Summer classes. Started writing another textbook I won’t finish. Your mama’s already getting ready for next year’s historical tour.”
“I’m not putting River Oaks back on the tour,” I said. “Aunt Jettie wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“Mama’s not going to ask,” he said. “To be honest, she wouldn’t know how. Your mother is at a loss for how to handle this job thing, pumpkin. She’s upset and scared for you, but she’s embarrassed, too. She worried about you being single and living on your own, but she’s never had to worry about you on the job front. She never thought you’d be in this…position. She wants to help, but you’re refusing to let her just swoop in and take care of everything. She feels as if she’s lost her…bargaining power with you.”
I snorted. “Subtly put, Daddy. Try using fewer pauses. They imply you’re searching for the word that will hurt me less than the ones she actually used.”
“Your mother is a complicated woman,” he said simply.
“And by ‘complicated,’ do you mean ‘manipulative’ and ‘emotionally crippling’?” I asked.
“Air-quote fingers aren’t attractive on anyone, honey,” he said, using his authoritative teacher voice. “She may be a little high-strung, but she’s still your mama.”
Daddy wrapped his arm around me. My head fell to his shoulder, in that hollow made just for me. “You know she loves you,” he said quietly.
I sighed. “Yes, I feel the crushing weight of her love from here.”
He cleared his throat, which I could tell meant he was trying not to laugh. “She doesn’t know how to handle a situation unless she’s in charge. Just don’t expect me to pick a side between the two of you.”
“Even though you know I’m right?”
“Janie.” There was the authoritative voice again.
