"Am I interrupting?" he asked.
She stood, gesturing him to the client chairs across the desk. "Not at all. Come on in."
He twisted his bowler cap in his hands and took slow steps into the walnut-paneled room. "I was in the neighborhood," he said.
"Your widow support group is tonight?"
He nodded. "Supposed to be a couple new ladies joining us tonight. Always tough, you know?"
Lindsey didn't. She couldn't imagine, and she didn't want to. She crossed around to take the seat next to him. A grin hitched half his mouth under his rapidly salting dark hair. "Your boss know you go barefoot?"
"Yep. I'm writing a cookbook. The Barefoot Lawyer in the Kitchen."
Dad chuckled, and she went back in time twenty years or so, to when she had big dreams and no idea how much she would stand in her own way.
And when none of them knew how to cook. Dad and Nat still didn't, and Lindsey wasn't yet ready to own what she'd been working on in her spare time.
"Your name's come up a few times lately," Dad said. "Thought you might want to know."
Lindsey waited for him to fill in the blanks. She'd let Nat know Billy's whereabouts, but she didn't know if Nat had told Dad and if Dad, in turn, would've told Marilyn. Not that it would matter for long. She doubted Will was still at her house.
"Did I ever tell you how I asked your mom out on our first date?" Dad said.
Lindsey tilted her head. She'd heard the story several times, and she was positive that Dad's mentioning that story now, in relation to Lindsey's name floating around Bliss, would not be a good thing. "Once or twice," she said.
His chin scrunched beneath a lopsided smile. "I was living over here in Willow Glen, working management at the furniture store."
Lindsey nodded. She missed Mom too. If talking made him feel better, she'd let him talk.
"She walked in looking for a new filing cabinet," he said. "Tell you what, I knew right then I wanted to marry her. So when I found out she worked on The Aisle, I made sure I went for Knot Fest. And there she was, talking to one of those other Aisle people. I walked up to her, and I said, ‘Excuse me, the matchmaker said I needed to come talk to you right now.'"
"Had she?" Lindsey asked on cue.
"No, but I dragged your mother to the matchmaker's booth. I figured Gail would either say I was right, that I needed your mother in my life, or she'd out me for lying. At least I'd know either way."
"And?"
"Well, your mother said Gail told her the same thing about the yahoo she was talking to when I interrupted her, but when we got to the booth, Gail clapped her hands and said she knew that seeing your mother talking to another man would make me find my balls. And then she told your mom that accepting my offer of dinner was the best decision she would ever make." Dad chuckled. "Gail was an ornery one. Gave a toast at our wedding that next spring." He slanted an eye at her. "Knot Fest hasn't been the same since she left."
Lindsey's suit itched. "Dad, I'm not a matchmaker." She said it softly, because even though he told people she was on a mission to save the world-she'd used a domestic abuse case she'd assisted with several years ago as her justification to him and Mom for her occupation-she knew he'd always been disappointed that she didn't subscribe to the Bliss mentality.
Not the same way he did, anyway. Bliss believed in getting it right the first time.
Dad swept a quick glance about the room. Her degrees and certifications and awards all hung on the walls, but they felt small and insignificant.
Not enough.
"I know, you do your own thing," he said.
Lindsey bit down on her instinctive desire to defend herself more. She'd long ago learned that a well-delivered eyebrow of I do not have to explain myself to you, coupled with the chin tilt of I am fulfilling a vital role in society, and I do it well tended to hurry the would-be love crusaders on their merry way. She'd publicly accepted herself, especially when she visited Bliss, and eventually, she'd discovered who among them could accept her, and whom she was better off without.
But with her family-she still couldn't fully explain herself without facing her own feelings of inadequacy.
And Dad was getting entirely too close to one of the tender spots on her not-so-petrified heart.
"Marilyn has been getting ideas," he said into the silence.
Being in her own office made it almost natural to fold her arms and stare down her father.
"I know, I know," he said again. He held a hand up. "I wanted you to know so you can be prepared."
"I've already handled Marilyn."
"Don't think she's done yet," Dad said.
"That's her problem."
Dad grinned. "Glad to know you have a handle on this. I used my only weapon last summer for Nat."
And an effective weapon it had been. Dad had balked almost as hard as Natalie when Lindsey suggested that he get close to Marilyn if he wanted to help Nat in her war against the Queen General, but Dad had been the best person Lindsey could see who could've softened Marilyn and her hard-assed No Divorcées in Bliss stance.
Not that Lindsey had told Dad the whole truth of what she saw. She wasn't a matchmaker, and even if she were, she would never, ever voluntarily say aloud what her internal barometer thought of Dad and Marilyn.
Dad's smile slipped away. "Felt like I was betraying your mother's memory."
"Mom would've been proud of you." Mom and Marilyn had had an interesting relationship too-one of tolerance on Mom's part and a dependence on Marilyn's part, though the Queen General of Bliss didn't like to admit dependence on anyone, and probably didn't even realize she had been dependent on Mom. Had Mom been there to guide Nat through saving last summer's Husband Games, things would've been significantly less rocky for all of them.
But the fact that Mom was not there was what had made planning the grand finale of Bliss's annual Knot Fest so difficult for all of them, and why it had been necessary for Dad to get creative with helping Nat.
"Still feels like I'm betraying her some days, and Marilyn and I are just friends," Dad added. He gripped the armrests and shifted in his seat. "This Billy Brenton thing-it's something else, having a star here, isn't it? Don't suppose he'll stay long though. Heard on the radio he lost his favorite guitar in that fire last night. Real shame."
"For Bliss, or for Marilyn?"
Dad heaved a dad-sigh. "Isn't that the question. But I meant for Billy. Seems like a good guy."
Lindsey wasn't going there. "Have you considered using your powers to convince Marilyn to quit trying to marry off Kimmie?"
"Bit of a sticky situation there."
"I understand her wanting to see Kimmie happily married and prepared to inherit her part of the bakery," Lindsey said, "but I believe Marilyn could choose more effective tactics."
Dad coughed over a laugh. "You do that lawyer-talk thing pretty good."
"Tact tends to get me further than calling someone batshit crazy."
"Maybe you could find Kimmie a good match," Dad teased.
Lindsey assessed him again. Was he leaning toward Team Marilyn over Team Castellano? A wave of loneliness and nostalgia made her blink. "Where's family dinner tomorrow?"
"Wok'n'Roll." He checked his watch. "Should get going, I suppose. See you tomorrow, hon."
Lindsey stood with him. "Stop by anytime."
Dad didn't grimace like he would've in days gone by, but he did give her a one-armed hug with a gruff, "Go home. You work too hard."
She would've appreciated the sentiment more if she hadn't been afraid of what was-or wasn't-waiting for her at home.
HALF AN HOUR LATER, Lindsey pulled onto her dark street. When she saw the dark blue truck with Tennessee plates in her garage, her raw heart did a girly squealy number the same time her brain went into self-preservation mode. She didn't have much gumption left for the day-fairly normal by this time of night-but she reached deep, deep down to find the stamina to fake it. Shoulders squared, spine erect, eyedrops applied to minimize the evidence of exhaustion, she carried herself from her garage into her kitchen.
And promptly blew out a relieved breath.
It was a disaster-the counters were cluttered with plates, cups, silverware, and Will had even dug out the electric s'mores maker she kept on hand for nights when Noah stayed over. But the man himself was nowhere in sight.
The humming of the heater and the refrigerator were the only sounds in the house. No guitar, no radio, no voices. All normal, except for that truck in her garage.
She let her hair down and kicked off her ivory pumps, then deposited her takeout bag on the table. She should've cooked-it was healthier, and between the hours at her desk and her mid-thirties creeping in, her metabolism wasn't what it used to be-but she'd wanted comfort food tonight.
Lindsey unbuttoned her suit jacket on her way up the stairs, tiptoeing lightly. She turned down the hallway to her bedroom, but paused outside her guest room. The door was open, the dinosaur lamp lit on the nightstand, and her raw heart banged the rest of its rocky casing away at the sight.