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“And I’m telling you you’re way off base,” Trey said.
“Time will tell.”
Kelly took a sip of the wine. Were they speaking in code? The hostility in the room made the hairs on her arm stand up. So much so that she wanted to snatch Jason away from his grandfather. Maybe she wasn’t missing anything not having a family.
“Let’s conclude this conversation after dinner,” Senior said. “My grandson needs food and then bed.”
When Senior lifted Jason from the stool, the child gazed at her over his shoulder, blue eyes huge. He extended an arm toward her, obviously wanting rescue. She smiled encouragingly at him as they walked into the dining room.
What else could she do? She wasn’t really Jason’s mother, but Senior was his grandfather, and based on their brief encounter so far, no question good old Grandpa resented her presence. She dared not interfere.
But why didn’t Trey? Didn’t he realize his son was terrified of the old man?
What galled her most wasn’t the way Senior treated her, but how he treated the little dude. He never addressed his grandson directly. He treated Jason more like a possession.
She glared at the old man as he seated himself where Trey usually sat at the head of the table. Senior was nothing but a big bully. Grandfather or not, she wasn’t going to let him pick on Jason.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TREY PUSHED THE food around on his plate. Nothing wrong with the meal. Even though Greta had had little notice of an extra person for dinner, she’d outdone herself with angel hair pasta covered with savory fresh tomato sauce and parmesan cheese. The bread was fragrant, crusty and delicious.
But he had no appetite.
He just wanted this meal over with so he could put Jason to bed and have it out with his father.
Kelly, of course, attacked her food with her usual enthusiasm. Watching her negotiate a noodle’s serpentine progress into her luscious mouth, he lifted his wineglass and smiled. At least there was something to feel good about in a tense, silent meal.
She’d tried to initiate conversation with his father, asking about his flight, where he lived. Senior had shut her down with monosyllabic replies that bordered on rudeness.
“What did you do today, Jason?” Kelly asked when she paused for a sip of wine.
“Went swimming,” Jason said, not looking up from his plate.
“Did you have fun?” she probed.
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you play Marco Polo?”
“Miss Jenkins,” his father interrupted. “We do not engage children in conversation at the dinner table.”
“Oh?” she said, shooting his father a look. “Is that the royal ‘we’?”
His father’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”
Greta entered the room. His father shook his head and didn’t pursue a response when she began refilling his water glass.
“Oh, my God, Greta,” Kelly said. “This is the most amazing spaghetti I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thank you, Miss Kelly,” Greta said with a nervous glance at his father. She filled Kelly’s glass next.
“Thanks,” Kelly said.
His father lowered his fork and stared at Kelly. Trey took another sip of wine to hide a smile. His father didn’t believe in thanking the help for doing their job. He insisted their salary was thanks enough.
Aware of the attention focused on her, Kelly looked up. “What?” she asked.
Trey was almost sorry when his father shook his head and said nothing.
Kelly shrugged. She tore off a hunk of bread, used it to mop up the sauce remaining in her pasta bowl and devoured the bread with obvious relish. His father followed every step of her process with a disbelieving stare.
When finished, she sat back and took a swallow of water. “God, that was good. I’m going to get fat as a cow if I stay here much longer.”
Regarding her with distaste, his father said, “No dessert, Ms. Jenkins?”
She reached for her wineglass. “What’s for dessert?”
“I have no idea,” his father said.
“Then how do I know if I want any?”
“I want dessert,” Jason piped up in a small voice.
Kelly looked at his plate, which was still half full. “Didn’t we talk about how you have to eat your supper before you get something sweet?”
