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Yvonne leaned back against the couch, her shoulders slumping. From the pensive look on her face, he knew his words had struck a chord, that she had truly listened.
“Okay,” she said at last.
“That’s my graceful girl, my gift.”
Yvonne snorted. “Pop Pop, you’ve been saying that since I was born. I’m not very graceful. I’m kind of a klutz.”
“That’s not what those nicknames are referring to. Your name, Yvonne, means God’s grace, God’s gift, and that is exactly what you are. You were a gift to your parents, to this family, to me.”
“I was named after my mom’s sister, not because of what the name means.”
Patrick grinned. “You were named after the sister your mother loved and adored above all others. The fact she gave you that name should show you exactly how much you mean to her, how much you are loved.”
“I know Mom loved my aunt Yvonne. I’ve seen pictures and heard all the stories about her.”
Yvonne’s mother, Natalie, had married Patrick’s son, Ewan. Patrick knew their road to happiness had been difficult because Natalie struggled with depression. A depression that had been brought on by the untimely death of her sister, Yvonne, due to a car crash when she’d only been twenty-three years old. Patrick had often felt a kinship with Natalie, the two of them engaging in quite a few conversations over the years about mourning the loss of someone close to them.
Sunday had also died young, only in her fifties when cancer claimed her. Patrick felt as though a lifetime had passed since then, his life divided in half. He’d had the Sunday years and then the years since her death.
“There is no greater tribute, no greater testament to love, than to give someone who is your everything such a meaningful name,” he said. “You are a gift, Yvonne. Never forget that. If Leo isn’t meant to be your love, then accept his friendship, cultivate it, and hold on to it tight. If he’s as special as you say, then I suspect the two of you will be there for each other long after high school ends.”
Yvonne frowned, swiping at her wet cheeks, though the tears had stopped falling. “I guess so.”
She didn’t sound convinced, so he made another effort.
“Let me ask you this,” Patrick said. “Are you so hurt by Leo asking this Denise out that you would rather cut him out of your life? Switch tables at lunch, stop talking to him altogether.”
Yvonne’s horrified look answered his question. “No. Of course not.”
“Then there’s your answer. You can have him in your life as a friend or not at all. If this romance, this love you long for appears la—”
“There you two are.”
Patrick looked up at the sound of Ewan’s voice. His son and Natalie appeared at the top of the stairs.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you, Vonnie,” Natalie said. “What’s going on?”
Yvonne sprang up from the couch, looking much happier than she had when he’d come up. He thought it looked a bit forced. Apparently, she didn’t want her parents to know she was hurting. “Nothing. Pop Pop and I were just talking. I have a bunch of homework to do. Are we going home now?”
Natalie nodded and followed Yvonne down the stairs. Ewan gave him a quizzical glance, but Patrick merely smiled, feeling pleased that he’d been able to ease the young girl’s mind and that she’d chosen him to confide in.
Maybe he wasn’t as bad at talking to teenage girls as he feared.
Ewan shrugged when Patrick said nothing. “See you tomorrow, Pop.” Then he walked downstairs, following his daughter and wife.
Patrick slipped back down on the couch, reaching for the picture frame that sat on the end table. He ran one finger over his beloved Sunday’s face, speaking to her as he so often did. “Not so bad if I say so myself,” he murmured.
His self-satisfaction was brief, however. Because somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Sunday laughing. And he wasn’t sure the sound was one of congratulations. It sounded perilously close to that laugh she’d always given him when he’d been a damned fool.
Teenage girls would always defeat him.
Chapter One
“Hey, hey, good lookin’. Whatcha got cookin’?” Yvonne crooned as Leo Watson walked in the back door to the kitchen in Sunday’s Side, her family’s restaurant.
Leo gave her a half-hearted grin as he placed a large box of produce on the counter. He handed Aunt Riley the delivery list and an invoice. “You got everything except the beans. They’re slow coming in, thanks to all this damn rain.”
“That’s okay.” Riley peered into the box. “Damn. Look at those tomatoes. Gorgeous. I have no idea what you Watson boys do to grow such beautiful tomatoes. I swear I think you’ve got magical powers you’re hiding from the world.”
