strong enough to handle a blow like that.
He heard the voices as he reached the stairs to Miz Callie’s deck. Three of them: two soft with their Southern drawl, and then his daughter’s light, quick counterpoint.
She was talking. It was a sign of how desperate he was about Lindsay’s unremitting grief that he didn’t care who she was talking to, as long as she talked. At first, after Jennifer’s death, the two of them had gone days without saying anything, until he’d realized that he had to rouse himself from the stupor of grief and make an effort for Lindsay’s sake.
He went slowly up the steps, hearing the conversation interspersed with gentle female laughter.
“So my brother and I both went under the waves after the shell he’d dropped, but I was the one who came up with it,” Georgia said as he reached the top. “Not that I’m suggesting you should do that.”
“No, don’t, please,” he said.
All three of them turned to look at him, but Miz Callie’s was the only face that relaxed into a smile. “Matthew, I thought you’d be coming along about now. Come and have some sweet tea.”
He shook his head, crossing the deck to them. There was an empty basket in the center of the table, with shells arrayed around it. His daughter was bent over two shells she seemed to be comparing, ignoring him.
“Lindsay and I need to start some dinner.”
“At least take a minute to look at our shell collection. Georgia Lee and I were teachin’ Lindsay the names of the different shells.”
“Not I,” Georgia protested, shoving back from the table. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of what you taught me.”
“You’ll have to take a refresher course, won’t you?” he said, planting his hands on the back of his daughter’s chair.
“How are you at naming the shells of the Carolina coast?” Every time Georgia looked at him, she had a challenge in her eyes.
“Worse than you,” he said promptly. “You may have forgotten, but I never knew.” He patted Lindsay’s shoulder. “Come on, Lindsay. It’s time we went home.”
“Just a minute. I have to line all the shells up before I go.”
He tensed, hating the habit Lindsay had developed, this need to have everything lined up just so. The child psychologist he’d consulted said to go along with it, that when Lindsay’s grief didn’t require her to seek control in that way, she’d lose interest. But sometimes he wanted to grab her hands and stop her.
A desperation that was too familiar went through him. He’d never known family before Jennifer. Bouncing from one foster home to another hadn’t prepared him to be a good father. How could he do this without her?
“How about taking some of these pecan tassies along home for your dessert?” Miz Callie got to her feet, grasping the plate of cookies. “I’ll wrap them up for you.” She’d headed into the house before he could refuse.
“Don’t bother arguing,” Georgia said, apparently interpreting his expression. “You can never defeat my grandmother’s hospitality. Bodines are noted for being stubborn.”
“I’ve noticed.” Something sparked between them on the exchange—maybe an understanding on both their parts that there was a double meaning to everything they said.
She was an interesting woman. If she weren’t so determined to believe that he was some sort of legal ogre, he might enjoy getting to know her.
He realized he was looking at her left hand, pressed against the edge of the table. The white band where a ring used to be stood out like an advertisement.
He hadn’t given up wearing his wedding ring. Rodney kept pushing him to get into the dating scene, and putting the ring away was the first step. He wasn’t ready to do that. What was the point? There’d never be another Jennifer. A man didn’t get that lucky more than once in a lifetime.
The silence had stretched on too long, but surely it was as much Georgia’s responsibility as his to break it. He tapped Lindsay’s shoulder. “Come on, Lindsay. We’ll order in pizza tonight, okay?”
For a moment he thought she’d ignore him, but then Miz Callie came out with the cookies.
“Here you are.” She handed the paper plate to Lindsay. “You carry those home and have one for dessert after your supper, y’heah?”
Lindsay got up promptly, good manners surfacing. “I will. Thank you, Miz Callie.” She glanced at Georgia, but didn’t repeat her thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That’ll be fine, sugar.” Miz Callie touched the blond ponytail lightly.
Georgia rose. “I’ll walk down with you. I need to get something from my car.”
Miz Callie sent her a glance that said she didn’t believe a word, but she didn’t attempt to deter her. He didn’t believe it, either. Georgia had something she wanted to say to him in private.
He followed her down the steps. Lindsay hurried ahead of him along the sand, her gaze fixed on a flight of pelicans overhead. He’d be amazed if those cookies reached home in one piece.
He took a few steps away from the stairs, Georgia moving next to him.
“I didn’t realize you lived so close.” Georgia’s gaze was fixed on his rental. “The Fosters owned that house when I was little. They had five children.”
“There are a few kids in the neighborhood now.” He watched Lindsay stop and stare at the pelicans as they swooped close to the water. “But Lindsay isn’t getting acquainted as easily as I’d hoped. Your grandmother is the only person she’s really gotten to know.”
“Miz Callie is worth as much as a gaggle of kids any day.”
“That sounds like personal experience speaking.” Maybe meeting his daughter had softened her attitude toward him.
But she looked at Lindsay, not him. “I was pretty shy as a kid. With my grandmother, there was no pressure. I could play with the other kids if I wanted to, but she never objected to my sitting in the swing with a book, or helping her make cookies in the kitchen.”
“Sounds ideal.” He spoke lightly, but he thought Georgia had revealed a lot about herself in those few words. Again he had a glimpse of someone he might enjoy getting to know, if not for the fact that she saw him as the enemy.
“I suppose that’s how my grandmother came to hire you,” Georgia said. “Getting to know you through Lindsay.”
“I suppose.” He kept it noncommittal. The truce was over already, it seemed.
“Havers and Martin have been the family’s attorneys for a couple of generations. It seems a little odd that she came to you instead.”
“Does it?” The spark of anger in her eyes amused him.
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t believe I heard exactly what it is you’re doing for my grandmother.”
“You
