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“I’m wearing jeans!” he protested.
“You’re wearing real shoes. I’ve never seen you out in anything nicer than a T-shirt and sneakers.” She slipped on heels and grabbed a jacket that looked as if it was short enough for a toddler.
“That’s an exaggeration,” he said. “And if you want to keep warm, you might want to bring a jacket that goes down farther than your...rib cage.”
“You mean my boobs?”
Gabe shook his head. “No, I did not mean that.”
“Stop changing the subject. Are you in love with this girl or what?”
“I’ve been dating her for just over a week.”
“So?”
Gabe picked up the clothes his sister had tossed on his bed and moved them back to her suitcase. “How’s Dad?”
“The same. He can’t stop talking about you coming home, even though he pretends he hates the idea of retiring.”
He sat down on the bed. “He does hate the idea of retiring. He only agreed to it because I agreed to take over. For now.”
Naomi sat next to him, dropping hard enough to make him bounce twice before she settled an arm around his waist. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I’ve only got about five more good years left in modeling, if that.”
“Yeah. I know.” They’d had this talk a thousand times. “I don’t blame you, Naomi. I’m the one who pushed for him to retire at sixty instead of sixty-five. He’s slowing way down. His doctor keeps telling him to lose some weight, change his diet, and Dad’s never going to do that when he’s in the restaurants every day.”
“Do you really think he’s going to stay out of the shop just because you’ve taken over?”
Gabe groaned and fell back on the bed, dragging Naomi with him. “I don’t know. But I can always threaten to leave again if he doesn’t behave.”
“You won’t do that,” she sighed.
“I know.” He wouldn’t. He and his sisters were their Dad’s whole world. He’d started training them in the restaurant business from age three up, finding jobs that even toddlers could help with. His dream had been for the whole family to work together, but then his kids had scattered like leaves on the wind, and his wishes had disappeared along with them.
“I just want him to be happy,” Gabe said. “And healthy.”
“I’ll help in a few years,” Naomi promised. Gabe didn’t voice his doubts. She’d promised that before. And whether she was modeling or not, his sister wasn’t the type to put both feet firmly on the ground. But maybe she’d pull through. She had to settle down sometime.
“Why did Claire have to become a vegetarian?” he groaned.
“Vegan,” Naomi corrected.
It didn’t matter to Gabe. He didn’t care what she ate or didn’t eat; he only cared that she’d walked away from MacKenzie’s. “Yeah. By the way, Mom’s cookies are great. Cherry thumbprint. Your favorite.”
“Shut up!” She slugged his arm. “You’re just as bad as they are.”
“I’m just giving you the option.”
They lay silently together for a few heartbeats, reminding Gabe of the many summers they’d spent on beaches as kids. There’d been so many evenings of trying to eke out the last few minutes as their mom called from the porch of the rented house. Their dad had sometimes come for a few days, too, but he’d always needed to get back to work. Gabe was just starting to relax into the mattress when Naomi bounded up. “All right. Just one cookie.”
She disappeared, and Gabe hauled himself up to follow her into the living room. Monique appeared from the bathroom, wearing sparkling purple eye makeup now with little bits of glitter that danced over her cheekbones. She’d clearly never been to a bar in Jackson, but Gabe was sure she’d be popular, regardless of the sparkles. She slipped on silver heels that set off the skin of her legs and then held her arms up to the sky. “Ready?” she asked.
He was ready to see Veronica, so he nodded and grabbed his keys. Naomi hurried out and handed him a half-eaten cookie. “Finish this,” she ordered.
“Come on, Naomi, you can have one cookie.”
“It’s my second one!” she screeched. Monique just followed silently as usual. He’d rarely heard her speak. Some guys seemed to be enchanted by that, but Gabe couldn’t figure it out. How were you supposed to be interested in a woman who didn’t even talk, much less one who didn’t babble funny, awkward things whenever she got nervous?
Veronica had insisted on meeting them at the bar, but Gabe still had to fight the urge to swing by her place and see if she wanted to walk with them. A glance at his watch told him she’d probably left ten minutes before, so he led the two women straight toward a place two blocks off the main square. Not quite a dive, but definitely a locals’ place.
