She smiled. “Keira trusts you enough to be mad at you. She made you the focus of her meltdown.”
“Or it could mean I’m the one who matters the least.”
“You need to look on the bright side.”
“You do it for me.”
She felt bad for him. She knew things had been rocky with Keira, but Malcolm was trying.
“She’s going to apologize to you in the morning,” she told him, then paused. “There are going to be ups and downs. She’s had a tough time.”
“I know that. I just wish I knew she was adjusting. I want her to be happy. I want her to feel safe. This is her home and we’re her family.”
“It would really help if you told her that when you see her.”
“I will. Thanks for taking care of her.”
“It’s easy. She’s my sister.”
And Malcolm was her brother. Why was connecting with Keira so natural, and bonding with him was more challenging? She thought maybe age had something to do with it. Keira was a kid and Malcolm was a grown man who could be intimidating.
His gaze sharpened. “How are you adjusting?”
She smiled. “I’m doing okay and I promise not to cry if you give me a present on my birthday.”
“Even if it’s a sleeping bag?”
“Malcolm, no. It was a really thoughtful gift.”
“Apparently not.” He drew in a breath. “Are you happy at work?”
“I am. The people are great.” She wrinkled her nose. “There is a huge difference between the basket department and where I am now. There everything was computerized. The dry goods area is so primitive.”
“A remodel is coming. We’ll be able to mechanize much of the work and keep tighter controls on the inventory.” He tapped his laptop. “It will be harder for people to steal, which might be why the thefts have increased. They’re doing their best while they still can.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get into that. We were talking about you. Have you thought any more about college?”
She laughed. “We talked two days ago. It takes me longer than that to do my research.” She paused as she wrestled with the truth. “I’m going to download an application. I do want to get a degree. I have an opportunity here and I want to take advantage of that.”
What she really meant was according to the lawyer, a third of the company was hers. One day she would like to be higher up the food chain. Malcolm would always run the firm—he’d been a part of things for years—but she would like to be involved. She wanted to be confident and educated and successful.
“Let me know how I can help.”
“Thank you. I will.” She started to stand, then flopped back in the chair. “Okay, I have a question.”
Malcolm waited.
She shifted her weight. “There’s some gala charity thing,” she said in a rush. “Santiago invited me and I said yes, only I don’t know anything about it and I looked online and it’s really fancy and kind of scares me so maybe I should tell him I’ve changed my mind.”
He made a couple of clucking noises.
“Not fair!” she protested. “Come on. I’m not like you. I didn’t grow up in this house. I’m just some kid from—”
“A perfectly normal upbringing,” he said. “Your mom was great, you’ve told me so yourself. There’s no reason you can’t fit in and have a great time.”
She thought about the pictures she’d seen online. “Do you know what those women are wearing?” she demanded. “Fancy dresses and stuff. There’s dancing. Like real dancing.”
His mouth twitched. “And you don’t know how?”
She felt herself getting angry and even though she knew it was a self-protective mechanism, she still wanted to yell at him. Instead she forced herself to speak calmly. “It wasn’t a required class in prison, so no. I don’t know how to dance.”
“I appreciate your restraint.”
“What are you talking about?”
He winked. “I was sure you were going to throw something at me.”
“I wanted to.” She slumped in her seat. “I’d like to go and I’m scared. There. I said it.”
“It’s just a fancy dinner with a bunch of people who care about a cause.”
“Rich people.”
“They still pee every single day. Sometimes more than once.” He leaned toward her. “Santiago will take care of you.”
He was right about that, she thought. Santiago would be there for her. “There’s still the dancing. Can I take lessons or something?”
“I’m sure you can, but you don’t need to. Santiago does a very basic box step. I’ve seen him.”
“For a second I thought you were going to say you’ve danced with him.”
He ignored that and stood, then walked over and held out his hand. She stared at him in confusion, then shook her head. “No. No, no, no. You are not teaching me to dance.”
He pulled her to her feet. “You are all attitude with absolutely no backbone. It’s not hard. This will take ten minutes. We’ll practice a couple of times and you’ll be fine.”
He led her out into the hallway. “Basic box step,” he repeated. “Whoever invented dancing hated women so I step forward and you step back.” He thought for a second. “There are maybe six steps.”
He moved next to her. “Watch my feet. I’m doing the man part, so you’ll be going in reverse.”
“In high heels,” she muttered. “Okay, show me.”
He walked through the steps a couple of times. She watched intently, then stepped in front of him.
“On four,” he said, before counting. He took a step forward, she moved back, concentrating on what they were doing.
“My right, your left.” His voice was steady.
Callie felt stiff and awkward and she stepped on his foot twice but the third time through it was easier. By the fifth, she was ready for music.
He found a song on his phone and set it on a nearby windowsill, then they began to dance in the wide hallway.
“See,” he said after a few minutes. “Not so hard.” He kissed her forehead. “You’ll do great. And if something bad happens, give me the high sign and I’ll spill my drink as a distraction.”
She wanted to say something snarky back to him, or maybe just thank him, but she couldn’t talk. At least not without bursting into tears, and no one wanted that. Malcolm had endured enough trauma for one day.
She gave him her best smile, willed herself to be strong. “I appreciate the lesson.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll practice again in a couple of days.”
She nodded and retreated to her room. Once there, she sat on the edge of her bed. From all she’d heard, her biological father had been a thoughtless jerk who used and abandoned women. Callie should hate him. Only she couldn’t. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have Malcolm as her brother and she was starting to think having him around was worth a whole lot.
* * *
Delaney tried to act normal as she sat through Sunday brunch with her dad and Beryl, but it was difficult. She was still tired and conflicted and upset and confused and a host of other emotions she couldn’t begin to name. Her fight with Chelsea—because she didn’t know what else to call it—haunted her. Sometimes she blamed her friend entirely and sometimes she admitted she was just as responsible.
“Delaney, are you all right?” Beryl asked as they washed dishes. “You’ve been quiet all day.”
Delaney glanced toward the family room where her father was watching a baseball game.
“I’m tired and maybe a little out of sorts.”
“Is college too difficult? You’ve already done it once, I’m not sure why you have to go back.” Beryl smiled at her. “I do admire your drive, however. A doctor. That’s a long road.”
“I don’t know if I want to do that anymore,” Delaney admitted, rinsing plates before putting them in the dishwasher. “I thought I did, but now I’m not sure. You’re right—it’s a very long commitment and if I’m not sure...”
She pressed her lips together. “I just don’t know what to do. Chelsea said—” She stopped herself. She couldn’t be completely honest about that!
“I’m so glad you two are spending time together again,” Beryl told her warmly. “You used to be good friends. I’d worried you’d had a falling-out.”
“We didn’t. Not exactly. It’s just our lives are so different. She’s married with kids and I’m, well, I’m on another path.”
“If only Tim hadn’t died.” Beryl’s voice thickened. “Of course that would have changed everything. I miss him so much. I know you do, as well.”
“Of course.”
Her answer was automatic but was it true? Tim had been a huge part of her life. For years she’d been half of a couple and everyone had assumed they would always be together. Even her, at least at first.
Chelsea’s stinging words echoed. Had everyone really known she hadn’t been in love with him anymore? Had he? She didn’t want to think that, didn’t want him to have guessed she wasn’t sure.