“Yeah, well, he’s your son.”
“Yeah, well, you played a bigger role in raising him than I did.”
“Only because you’re such a—”
Ian made a big production of shoving back from the table. Grabbing a mug from the drain board, he filled it to the rim and said, “Knock it off, you two, or I’ll send you both to bed with no supper.”
Gladys’s left eyebrow rose. “Sweetheart,” she said, accentuating each syllable, “it’s nearly one in the morning.”
“And I had supper at six.”
“Way past your bedtime, then,” he told them. “Don’t forget to say your prayers...”
He’d just provided his dad with the perfect opportunity to leave the room—and the conversation. How many seconds before he took advantage of it?
“Alarm’s set for five. Think I’ll turn in.”
Half a second later, the door slammed behind him and Gladys said, “All right. Out with it. What’s eating you?”
She’d keep at him until he told her something, so Ian said, “Same old stuff.”
“Baloney.”
“Come again?”
“Here’s an old adage you’ll recognize. ‘You can’t fool an old fool.’ Now spit it out, buster, or I’ll go next door and get my guitar...”
Ian reared back as if she’d smacked him and feigned terror. Hands up, he said, “I’ll talk!”
Folding his hands on the table, he shared the true story of an incident that had taken place years ago when, after recognizing the prison tattoo on his forearm, a fast food clerk refused to serve him. A humiliating experience, since everyone in the restaurant stopped what they were doing to see how Ian would react.
“They expected a fight,” he told Gladys, “but they left disappointed.”
“Good for you. After all these years of walking the straight and narrow, you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.”
Almost word for word what he’d told himself as he left the place...without so much as a French fry.
She folded her hands, too. “First of all, how’d that self-righteous fool know it was a prison tat, unless he’d served time, too?”
Leave it to Gladys to find the needle in the haystack.
“And second of all?”
“You’re a good man, and I couldn’t love you more if you were my own son.”
Wrapping her hands with his, Ian said, “Don’t make me start into another rendition of ‘you saved my sorry hide’ tale.”
“Tale? Hmpf. It’s one hundred percent true. Why would I mind hearing it again?” Their companionable laughter blended, producing a warm smile on his aunt’s face. A smile that quickly diminished as she withdrew her hands.
“You aren’t all down in the mouth because some wiseacre burger pusher gave you a hard time...”
“Well, silly me,” he kidded, “thinking I could fool you.”
“’Bout time you wised up. For the last time, out with it.”
What did he have to lose?
“I saw Maleah tonight.”
“Oh my. Oh wow. Holy smokes.” Gladys sipped her coffee. “Good grief,” she said, wincing. “Who taught that father of yours how to brew a pot?”
“Ruth.”
“Still can’t bring yourself to call her Mom, can you.”
Ian shook his head. She hadn’t earned the title.
“So did Maleah see you, too.”
“She was a little busy, hanging all over her cover-model date.”
The left brow rose again.
“Kent O’Malley. Baltimore Magazine’s Bachelor of the Year?”
“Oh yeah.” Nodding, she said, “Oh my. Oh wow. Holy smokes.” Then she slapped the table, making Ian jump. “No way you can convince me she’s serious about that blowhard.”
“Wasn’t aware you and Kent were acquainted.”
“Don’t need a personal introduction to know he’s all shine, no substance. Not Maleah’s type at all.”
A lifetime ago, he’d been her type. “A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since that day in court. “I’ve changed. She has, too.”
“Not that much. I’ll bet my diamond tiara it was a work-related date and nothing more. Now tell me everything.”
“She seemed...she looked...” Ian didn’t know how to describe how she looked as she stood, entangled in O’Malley’s arms, comparing the once clean-cut boy he’d been to the scarred, tattooed ex-con he’d become. “I think it surprised her, seeing how much I’ve changed. Scared her a little, too, I think.”
“That’s natural. Man doesn’t spend ten years doing hard time without it taking a toll.” Unable to come up with a suitable response to that, Ian only nodded.
Gladys got up, put her mug in the sink, then emptied what was left of the coffee into the drain. “Promise me you’ll teach that brother of mine how to use a coffeemaker, will ya? Grounds are too expensive these days.”
She stood behind him and gently tugged his foot-long ponytail. “Oh what I wouldn’t give for a pair of scissors right now...”
“If I had a dollar for every time you told me you love my hair, I could buy that newfangled icemaker I’ve been drooling over.”
This time, she wasn’t so gentle when she jerked the ponytail. “Small talk is not your forte, Ian Sylvestry. You can try to distract me with ice makers and coffeemakers and—”
“You’re the one who took a side trip, talking about coffee.”
“You’ve got me there, too.” She kissed the top of his head. “Feel better now?”
He wouldn’t feel better until he could blot Maleah’s image from his memory.
“My advice?” she said, walking toward the hall.
Ian braced himself.
“Call her. Put all your cards on the table. Trust me, she’s not involved with Mr. Owns-the-East-Coast.”
He wouldn’t reach out, not even if O’Malley told him directly that he had no interest in Maleah. He’d already put her through enough. What if she’d been with him that day at the fast food place? No way he could live with seeing her humiliated because of her association with him.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you, now?”
“You think you hurt her, hurt her so much that she can’t forgive you for something you did when you were a stupid, naïve, impressionable boy. But let me remind you that Maleah has a big loving heart.”
It was the first nice thing she’d said about Maleah since he got out.
“She loved you, for a while anyway, and that tells me she’s not all bad.” Gladys rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. “Because in those days, you weren’t easy to love.”
One of a hundred reasons he wouldn’t call her.
“Promise me you’ll think about it,” Gladys said from the hallway. He took a moment, just long enough to let her think he’d seriously consider making that