Ginger’s ears. “No. A friend invited me to dinner.”
Sophie sighed with apparent relief. “Good. I was afraid you’d nuke one of those frozen TV dinners or something and eat it while you watched some football game. And that would be pathetic.”
“Far be it from me to be pathetic,” Tanner said, but a lump had formed in his throat and his voice came out sounding hoarse. “Anything but that.”
“What friend?” Sophie persisted. “What friend are you having dinner with, I mean?”
“Nobody you know.”
“A woman?” Was that hope he heard in his daughter’s voice? “Have you met someone, Dad?”
Damn. It was hope. The kid probably fantasized that he’d remarry one day, and she could come home from boarding school for good, and they’d all live happily ever after, with a dog and two cars parked in the same garage every night, like a normal family.
That was never going to happen.
Ginger looked up at him in adoring sympathy when he rubbed his eyes, tired to the bone. His sleepless night was finally catching up with him—or that was what he told himself.
“No,” he said. “I haven’t met anybody, Soph.” Olivia’s face filled his mind. “Well, I’ve met somebody, but I haven’t met them, if you know what I mean.”
Sophie, being Sophie, did know what he meant. Exactly.
“But you’re dating!”
“No,” Tanner said quickly. Bumming a cup of coffee in a woman’s kitchen didn’t constitute a date, and neither did sitting at the same table with her on Thanksgiving Day. “No. We’re just—just friends.”
“Oh.” Major disappointment. “This whole thing bites!”
“So you said,” Tanner replied gently, wanting to soothe his daughter but not having the first clue how to go about it. “Maybe it’s your mind-set. Since today’s Thanksgiving, why not give gratitude a shot?”
She hung up on him.
He thought about calling her right back, but decided to do it later, after she’d had a little time to calm down, regain her perspective. She was a lucky kid, spending the holiday in New York, watching the famous parade in person, staying in a fancy hotel suite with her friends from school.
“Women,” he told Ginger.
She gave a low whine and laid her muzzle on his arm.
He stayed in the barn a while, then went into the house, took a shower, shaved and crashed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.
And Kat did not come to him.
OLIVIAHADSTOPPEDBY Tanner’s barn on the way to Stone Creek Ranch, hoping to persuade Ginger to take a break from horsesitting, but she wouldn’t budge.
Arriving at the homeplace, she checked on Rodney, who seemed content in his stall, then, gym bag in hand, she slipped inside the small bath off the tack room and grabbed a quick, chilly shower. She shimmied into those wretched panty hose, donned the skirt and the blue sweater and the boots, and even applied a little mascara and lip gloss for good measure.
Never let it be said that she’d come to a family dinner looking like a—veterinarian.
And the fact that Tanner Quinn was going to be at this shindig had absolutely nothing to do with her decision to spruce up.
Starting up the front steps, she had a sudden, poignant memory of Big John standing on that porch, waiting for her to come home from a high school date with Jesse McKettrick. After the dance all the kids had gone to the swimming hole on the Triple M, and splashed and partied until nearly dawn.
Big John had been furious, his face like a thundercloud, his voice dangerously quiet.
He’d given Jesse what-for for keeping his granddaughter out all night, and grounded Olivia for a month.
She’d been outraged, she recalled, smiling sadly. Tearfully informed her angry grandfather that nothing had happened between her and Jesse, which was true, if you didn’t count necking. Now, of course, she’d have given almost anything to see that temperamental old man again, even if he was shaking his finger at her and telling her that in his day, young ladies knew how to behave themselves.
Lord, how she missed him, missed his rants. Especially the rants, because they’d been proof positive that he cared what happened to her.
The door opened just then, and Brad stepped out onto the porch, causing the paper turkey to flutter on its hook behind him.
“Ashley’s going to kill me,” Olivia said. “I forgot to pick up salads at the deli.”
Brad laughed. “There’s so much food in there, she’ll never know the difference. Now, come on in before we both freeze to death.”
Olivia hesitated. Swallowed. Watched as Brad’s smile faded.
“What is it?” he asked, coming down the steps.
“Ashley’s looking for Mom,” she said. She hadn’t planned to bring that up that day. It just popped out.
“What?”
“She’s probably going to announce it at dinner or something,” Olivia rushed on. “Is it just me, or do you think this is a bad idea, too?”
“It’s a very bad idea,” Brad said.
“You know something about Mom, don’t you? Something you’re keeping from the rest of us.” It was a shot in the dark, a wild guess, but it struck the bull’s-eye, dead center. She knew that by the grim expression on Brad’s famous face.
“I know enough,” he replied.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up, but I was thinking about Big John, and that led to thinking about Mom, and I remembered what Ashley told me, so—”
“It’s okay,” Brad said, trying to smile. “Maybe she won’t bring it up.”
Olivia doubted they could be that lucky. Ashley was an O’Ballivan through and through, and when she got on a kick about something, she had to ride it out to the bitter end. “I could talk to her…”
Brad shook his head, pulled her inside the house. It was too hot and too crowded and too loud, but Olivia was determined to make the best of the situation, for her family’s sake, if not her own.
Big John would have wanted it that way.
She hunted until she found Mac, sitting up in his playpen, and lifted him into her arms. “It smells pretty good in here, big guy,” she told him. There was a fragrant fire crackling on the hearth, and Meg had lit some scented candles, and delicious aromas wafted from the direction of the kitchen.
Out of the corner of her eye Olivia spotted Tanner Quinn standing near Brad’s baby grand piano, dressed up in a black suit, holding a bottle of water in one hand and trying hard to look
