I heard about the big meeting with Austin.” Oscar nodded. “Sounds like you’ve got things well in hand on our end.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” Oliver wiped his hands on the seat of the faded denim shorts that hung low on his lean hips. “Austin’s looking to pull in all kinds of new elements into this job.” He rounded the back of the vehicle where his father stood.
“Sounds interesting,” Oscar noted, his handsome caramel-toned face alight with curiosity.
“Yeah, interesting.” Oliver shared a skeptical grin. “He wants to display the photographs of the new offices at Vecs’s Miami gallery in the hopes of wooing new clients.”
“That boy.” Oscar chuckled. “He was always an out-of-the-box thinker.”
“That hasn’t changed.” Oliver rubbed his jaw while regarding his father more closely. “Everything okay, Pop?”
Stepping closer, Oscar clapped a hand to Oliver’s arm. “You know I’m proud of the work you’re doing, Oli. The way you’ve stepped into my place and assumed control, just the way a president should.”
Oliver gave his father a mockingly firm look. “Why do I feel like those words are about to be followed up by a huge but?”
Oscar squeezed his son’s arm again. “I only wanted you to know that I have no issues whatsoever with the way you’ve taken over the business. I could retire today, content in the knowledge that my life’s work will be well cared for.”
“I’m still hearin’ that but, Dad...” Oliver lost some of his playfulness.
“There’s no but, kid. Not the kind you’re expecting. I just don’t want to offend you.” Oscar managed a slight chuckle.
Doubt merging with concern, Oliver went to pull down the tailgate to one of the Cherokees. He patted the area, urging his father to sit. “Talk to me, Dad. What’s up? Really?”
Oscar leaned against the edge of the lowered tailgate, but didn’t sit. “Looks like we’re going to have to partner up for an upcoming meeting.”
“Partner up?” Oliver smiled curiously over the news. “Like when I was first learning the ropes, partner up?”
Oscar nodded, his easy expression showing signs of distress. “I know you don’t need me looking over your shoulder anymore, but tag-teaming this thing would be a good idea for this particular client.”
“Well, who is it?” Oliver folded his arms across the worn Lakers T-shirt that stretched over his broad chest.
“I’m still handling it more or less, but now with my impending retirement, it’s going to be important for them to understand that a changing of the guard is needed.”
“Is the guy difficult to work for or something?” Oliver asked.
The easiness returned to Oscar’s expression as he shared a cunning grin with his son. “The guy wasn’t difficult at all—he was a good friend as well as client—one I handled exclusively which is why you don’t know him. But he’s passed on, and his wife’s the client now.”
Oliver whistled, made a face. “How difficult is she?”
“Oh, not very difficult at all.” Oscar laughed over his son’s skeptical expression. “Seriously, she’s just, um...demanding and determined to see that her demands are met.”
“And she’s demanding that you be present for this meeting?”
“Not exactly.” Oscar leaned more heavily against the tailgate. “She doesn’t know I’m about to tell her you’ll be the one handling her land acquisition deals for the foreseeable future.”
From his seat on the tailgate, Oliver swung one sneaker-shod foot back and forth. “Has she been pleased with our work so far?”
“So far, yes. Very pleased.” Oscar scratched his whiskered jaw and looked out over the backyard. “She calls these meetings every couple of years just to get face time with the folks who handle her money and other interests.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be happy to be your wingman.” Oliver reached over to squeeze his father’s shoulder. “You think the client will put up much fuss about the change?”
“Nah.” Oscar waved off the concern. “She’s a pistol, but a sweetheart.”
“Well, she sounds lovely.” Oliver moved off the tailgate. “Anymore details you’d like to share? Such as a name?”
Oscar grinned knowingly. “Not a chance. I know you, and I don’t want you fixated on researching and trying to prepare yourself just yet.” He shrugged. “I only wanted you to put this on your radar. We can save the rest until after your big trip. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to have fun while you’re in Miami?”
Oliver’s rakish grin was almost a replica of his father’s. “No, sir, such a reminder is totally unnecessary.”
“Ha!” Oscar fell in step with his son. “Don’t even know why I bothered.”
“Um...Dad?” Oliver’s steps slowed. “Are you ever...concerned about the way I live? The way I live my life?”
Oscar erupted into a rich round of laughter. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“It’s just with all the uh...all the women...” Oliver rubbed his fingers through his hair and gave the curls a tug. “Are you ever concerned that I won’t have anything more? Like you did with Mom?”
Oscar eased his hands into the deep front pockets of his gray trousers and graced his son with a probing look. “What’s gotten into you, Oli?”
“I don’t know.” Oliver shrugged, understanding that the question sounded crazy coming from him. “Just somethin’ Vecs said got me thinking...”
Oscar’s rich laughter returned behind an even greater force then. “Letting that girl get in your head as usual, huh?!”
Oliver smiled, conceding. “I thought she might have a point.”
Oscar curbed his laughter—some. “What’d she say, exactly?”
“Something about the difference between laughing because I’m happy and laughing because something’s funny.” Oliver shrugged, shook his head and commenced to rubbing at his curls again. “She said I’d understand what that meant when I was ready. I guess it’s something folks in love would get.”
“Hmph. I’ve been in love over half my life, but I’m still not quite sure I get your little sister’s philosophy on that one.”
The men shared a laugh, and then Oscar quieted.
“Being amused to the point of laughter is just a reaction to something at the moment,” he said, walking as he theorized. “Happiness is a condition—a state of being—something more sustaining. Only love instills happiness like that.”
A poignant gleam crept into Oliver’s light eyes as he studied
