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“God…” Ryan drums his fingers on the table.
I meet his gaze head on. “What is troubling her? She doesn’t know, so how could you?”
“God… I can’t even believe this is happening.”
My patience is down to a nub. “What? What is happening?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “My mother. My fucking mother.”
“Daphne Steel?”
He doesn’t say anything.
Sweat emerges from Ryan’s brow. “I watched her die. I watched her fucking die, Brendan.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
It’s not what he means? Then I’m done feeling sorry. “You’re down to about thirty seconds, Ryan.”
He rises. “How do you feel about my daughter?”
“I’m fond of her.”
“Are you in love with her?”
I drop my jaw. Am I that obvious? Hell, I think I just admitted it to myself. I’m sure not going to tell her yet because she’s not ready to hear it.
“What if I were?” I ask.
“Then I’d expect you to protect her. Protect her from everything.”
Another odd comment. Of course I’ll protect Ava. But isn’t that his job as well? He’s her father.
I clear my throat. “I’m happy to do that anyway.”
Ryan wipes his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Why is this all happening now?”
“Since I don’t know what is happening, I can’t answer that question, Ryan.”
He regards me with an expression I can’t quite read. “Look. I need to speak with you privately. And I need more than ninety seconds. When can we talk?”
“I’ve got to get the bar open, and it’s going to be a busy day. People are here for the holiday, and they’re going to want to come into town to have a drink. Ava’s going to come over to help me tonight after she closes the bakery.”
“She is?”
“Yeah. I helped her this morning at the bakery, and she’s going to return the favor this evening. And then tomorrow is your party.”
Ryan sighs. “I know. That damned party.”
Damned party? This is his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. A milestone.
“It’s your anniversary.”
“I know. I love my wife, and she loves me. Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years we’ve been happy. And now…”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re not happy?”
Ryan strokes his fingers over his upper lip. “No, we are.”
“Is Ruby okay?”
“Yes. As much as she can be.”
Uh-oh. My thoughts go to Ava, to her fear that her mother’s cancer has returned. “Ava’s concerned. She thinks her mother might be sick again.”
Ryan shakes his head. “God, no. She’s fine. She just had a mammogram a couple of months ago.”
“Thank God. Ava drew some cards and—”
“The cards said her mother is sick?”
“The cards don’t tell Ava anything. She uses them for—”
“Yes. For guidance. I know.”
“Right. Anyway, she’s worried about her family. That Ruby may be sick. You should go over to the bakery and tell her that Ruby’s fine.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t face my daughter right now.”
My nerves jump. “What are you not telling me, Ryan? What do you mean you can’t face your daughter? There’s a big party in your honor tomorrow night, and your daughter—both of your daughters—will be there. Ava’s helping plan the party with Marjorie and Jade.”
“I know that. God, I love my wife and my daughters more than anything.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever questioned that. I know Ava hasn’t.”
“Ava. Gina. They’re going to question it. They’re going to question both Ruby and me.”
My nerves again. I can’t stomach the idea of Ava in any kind of pain. “Why would they do that?”
“God…” He shakes his head again. “I’ve got to get out of here. But you and I do need to talk. Find an hour for me. Tomorrow morning. Got it?”
I want to resist. I hate taking orders. But this concerns Ava. “Fine. Tomorrow morning. How about ten o’clock here at the bar?”
“Good enough. I’ll be here.” He whisks out of the bar through the back way.
Where Pat Lamone still stands, waiting to talk to me.
I sigh as I walk toward him.
Chapter Three
Ava
I force myself to walk to my bathroom to take a shower. Once I’m clean and dressed, I sit back down at my table and stare at the tower card.
The tower. So solid and erect and unyielding, yet one strike of lightning brings it down.
Does that mean it’s built on shaky ground?
Does that mean I’m built on shaky ground?
Is there some falsehood in my life that I’ve been ignorant to all this time?
A bolt of lightning can represent so many things.
Illumination.
Destruction.
Or a combination, which is what I fear.
Something illuminating and also destructive.
My skin goes cold, and I brush my hands over my upper arms, trying to ease the chill. It doesn’t work.
I need to get my mind off the card and whatever it may represent, so I grab a jacket, wander outside, and walk around town. Most of the smaller shops are closed for the long Thanksgiving weekend, but the tattoo shop is open.
I walk in.
