Dating A Silver Fox (Never Too Late) (9 page)

“Learn to live life with me Lydia. I could show you some amazing things. Let me turn you into wine so I can enjoy you,” Morrie said.

“Are you done? You’ve had your dramatic moment, now can I please enjoy my dinner?” Lydia asked, picking up seasonings and added a dash of cayenne to her pasta.

“You know, I bet if I kissed you after this meal, you’d taste spicy,” Morrie said, lifting his wine for a sip. “You going to let me kiss you later?”

“Not if I get to your kneecap first,” Lydia told him, rubbing her nervous stomach under the table. He was being preposterous. Ludicrous. A flirt with no moral boundaries.

“Bet you wonder what I would taste like too,” Morrie declared.

“I assure you I have never wondered that about a man in my life,” Lydia informed him, throwing down the tiny bit of the bread she hadn’t eaten in nervous panic.

Knowing full well she hated it, Morrie shrugged instead of answering, fighting the urge to laugh when she glared.

“Well, if you ever get curious about how I taste, let me know,” he said, going back to his food and humming while he ate.

“Move on, Morrison. Nothing is going to happen,” Lydia said.

“We’ll see,” Morrie said lightly. “So what’s for dessert? Suddenly I’m craving lemon gelato. I guess I’m in the mood for something tart.”

Lydia shook her head and tried to put her attention back on her food.

Bravery exhausted. Now all she wanted was the dinner to be over.

Chapter 7

Over the next two weeks, they worked together pretty seamlessly, which surprised Lydia. Morrison had backed off making personal comments, keeping his teasing to project work. She assured herself that it was a good thing he had stopped hounding her so much with his crazy talk about dating.

Having failed so dismally to capture her attention in the way he wanted when they had gone to dinner, Morrison had already moved on to his next victim, she assumed. Especially now that it had been days since she’d even seen the man. What else could she think?

Three days after he’d failed to keep several of the appointments they’d scheduled, Lydia was still supremely annoyed at his disappearance without explanation, but managing not to vent about it. Venting would have looked like it mattered to her. She refused to let the man be that important to what she was doing.

Instead, she had calmly talked a contractor into helping her hang the art on the walls. She arranged the chairs and loveseats by herself, using moving disks under the legs to glide them into place. She spent all the time she wanted suiting herself with the arrangement.

Besides, it wasn’t like she needed any help, much less Morrison Fox’s help. She could have single-handedly done all of the planning
and
the work, even though that wasn’t the point that irritated her either. It was just that he could have at least sent some word that he was done working on the project so she wouldn’t be waiting and—well,
expecting
him to be there.

When Jane came into the room, she smiled and clapped at the way it all looked. Lydia nodded, lacking the enthusiasm she’d felt initially but glad at least that Jane was pleased with the mostly final result.

“Hello, Jane. Almost done, as you can see.”

“Looks great, Lydia. I really appreciate what you’ve accomplished,” Jane said sincerely, almost surprising herself. “Dad’s had a busy week and I doubt he’s going to be back for a while. You’ve done great on your own.”

“Yes, well I’m sure your father has better things to do with his time. I can see now why he twisted my arm to stay on,” Lydia said sharply.

She had been trying for light-hearted sarcasm and to make a joke, but sighed when she heard Jane draw in a shocked breath at her words. Obviously, it hadn’t worked. Jane was as hard to please in that regard as Lauren.

“Are you upset at Dad for some reason? What did he do now?” Jane asked, not wanting to know but feeling like she had to ask.

“No—of course not. Why would I be upset at your father? Ignore me, Jane. I’m just having a cranky day,” Lydia said with a frown, going back to her cleaning. She was not going to complain to Morrison’s daughter. Or ask about him. She just wasn’t.

“When was the last time Dad checked in with you?” Jane asked.

“Three days ago. Please forget I said anything about his disappearance. What your father does with his time is not really my business anyway. I just wish Morrison had warned me he wasn’t going to be around to see the project through. All that’s left is one trip back to the country club to collect a few rugs and some accessories. I can certainly do that alone. And don’t worry—we’re still on target to be finished in time for the open house.”

Jane frowned.
Disappearance?
That was an odd turn of phrase, even for Lydia—maybe especially for Lydia. The woman was usually more direct.

“Well it’s not like Dad is trying to avoid the work or anything,” she said, scratching her head as she watched Lydia artfully arranging throw pillows on the chairs and couches.

When Lydia looked up, she saw Jane tilt her head until it almost touched her shoulder. The smile she gave Morrison’s daughter was warmer than any she would ever have given him had he been there, but it was always touching to see how much children turned out to be like their parents. She was getting to watch it happen in real time with her grandson. JD had Jim’s looks and Lauren’s temper, and often Lydia wished it could have been the other way around. He was a wicked little thing, and way smarter than the adults in his life.

“You look remarkably like your father when you do that head tilt thing, Jane. Usually, Morrison tells a joke after. Got any jokes? I could certainly use one today,” Lydia said, keeping her voice as serious as she could make it to offset the smile she couldn’t control.

Jane’s temper disappeared as she gawked. The woman recognized her father’s mannerisms? When had that started happening?

And now that she was paying more attention, she also noticed Lydia actually looked concerned and upset.

Over her father?

That was not a good sign, Jane thought, definitely not good. The woman was totally not the right kind of woman her father needed in his life. But even so, she couldn’t let Lydia think her father was some random jerk who just shirked people for no good reason, could she?

The decision whether to be a good daughter or a bad daughter could easily use up all the brain cells needed for more important things, like preparing for the open house. A bad daughter would say nothing and just let Lydia think Morrison Fox was a shallow, inconsiderate man. But a good daughter would cover her father’s insensitive ass for not calling and make sure the woman he liked knew the truth about what was going on.

Jane shook her head at her conflicting thoughts, glad Lydia’s attention was on the furniture again as she tried to decide what to do. She was not going to be able to play the role of bad daughter on this. There was no use pretending otherwise. She didn’t want to go to her grave wondering if she had messed up her father’s last chance to fall in love, no matter how she felt about the target of his affection.

“You don’t know what’s happened this week, do you?” Jane asked, though she pretty well knew the answer from the sudden surprise in Lydia’s gaze locking onto hers in alarm. “First, let me just say Dad isn’t hurt. So don’t go there. I can’t believe he never called to tell you he had a family emergency.”

“How could he call? Morrison doesn’t have my number. I never gave it to him. Since he obviously could have asked you to pass along his plans, I figured he had his reasons for not doing so,” Lydia said as nonchalantly as possible.

She stepped back and surveyed the finished result of the pillows, trying not to think about how upset she had been—over nothing now, she realized. Why on earth did she care what Morrison did or did not do?

“So what do you do think, Jane? I think this will be fine, don’t you?” Lydia asked, pretending her conversation about Morrison was over.

“Yes. Everything looks great, Lydia. But listen for a minute,” Jane reached out a hand and put it gently on Lydia’s arm. “My uncle—Dad’s brother-in-law—died a few days ago. Dad’s been sitting shiva with my Aunt Rachel and helping her take care of things. He would seriously have rather been here helping you. Trust me.”

Heart melting at the sincerity of a daughter’s concern for her father, Lydia’s hand came up to cover Jane’s.

“I’m sorry for your loss and for assuming the worst. I should have just asked you about him, so don’t blame your father too much. He didn’t seem like the type to just not show up, but I’ve learned from experience not to be surprised by what men do. When he didn’t show up or contact me, I figured he’d gotten bored with a hopeless case and moved on.”

“Wow. You really have gotten a bad impression of Dad, haven’t you?” Jane asked with a laugh, partly at herself and her reaction to seeing the fears flitting through the older woman’s gaze. Ah nuts, she couldn’t squash that connection between them—just couldn’t. It would be nice to have someone care about her that much.

“Okay Lydia, I just have to tell you this. Despite all his teasing, Dad is the most steadfast man alive, and that’s not just daughter bias. Anyone that knows him would say the same thing. The flirting he does now is new—like really new. A few years ago my brother and I couldn’t get him out of the house. His world got rocked hard when mom passed so suddenly. Frankly, I’ve been worried about what was going to happen when someone else died in the family—how Dad would handle it. He struggles—well, let’s say—
silently
,” Jane said, pausing to slide her hand down Lydia McCarthy’s arm until she found herself holding the older woman’s hand.

“Between you and me, Dad could use a friend to help him get through Uncle Kevin dying. He needs someone who could take his mind off grieving, and you’re the most distracting person in Dad’s life right now. He has a serious crush on you.”

Squeezing gently, Lydia slid her hand away from Jane’s. Morrison had raised a fine woman and a good daughter.

“
A crush on me?
If that’s true, then God help both of us. I have no use for a man at my age, especially not a live one like your father. Morrison Fox is way out of my league. He’ll have to turn his attention elsewhere.”

Jane giggled, finding it hard not to be amused about the fact that her father had apparently gotten nowhere in two weeks. Maybe Lydia McCarthy was going to be the one woman her silver fox father couldn’t charm. It was a highly entertaining thought that her father might strike out, but she’d never seen him fail at anything he’d set his mind to accomplish.

“Don’t resist too hard. Your reticence is your greatest allure. Dad has always liked a challenge,” Jane observed.

“I assure you that I’ve done nothing to indicate a willingness to be anything for your father, especially not a ‘challenge’ as you call it,” Lydia said, gathering up her cleaning gear.

Then she stopped and looked at Jane, who was still looking hopeful.

“Being a friend though is another matter. I’d be happy to check on your father for you and make sure he’s keeping it together. After a certain age, a person ends up spending a lot of time saying goodbye to family and friends. It’s never easy. Seeing those who are still alive always helps.”

Jane took a breath. The woman wasn’t totally wonderful, but she certainly had her moments. In the face of Lydia’s sympathy, Jane rashly decided to turn her father’s love life over to the whims of fate and this nicer version of Lydia McCarthy. She wasn’t nice like Dorothy Henderson, but Lydia could hold her own with Harrison Graham—and the younger version of him who kept popping by the facility to visit, which Jane was not dealing with as well.

At the very least, Lydia could get her father up out the chair he’d been sitting in since Uncle Kevin had died. He and Aunt Rachel were just sitting around his condo all day doing nothing productive, which is what triggered his depression last time. When Morrison Fox sat for more than ten minutes, there was something really wrong. It was his surest tell. Jane didn’t want him slipping into another funk that would take years to pull him out of again.

Decision made, Jane straightened before reaching out and patting Lydia’s arm again.

“Stop by the office and I’ll give you Dad’s condo address—in case you want to just casually drop by his place sometime this week,” Jane said.

Lydia nodded with a soft smile. “I could probably do that on my way home today. I don’t have any plans for the evening.”

“Good,” Jane said, sincerely hoping she was doing the right thing. “Thanks. I appreciate you checking on him.”

Lydia nodded absently as Jane walked off, mumbling to herself and shaking her head. The young woman had too many responsibilities and too much stress in her life, but Lydia had no idea how to help her. Her thoughts were already on what she might possibly say to make Morrison feel better.

She wasn’t good at comforting people—or being comforted. She avoided visitations and funerals whenever possible. But if she went home tonight without seeing Morrison Fox and finding out how he was doing, she was never going to be able to sleep.

***

When the doorbell rang, Morrie figured it was someone else bringing yet more food that he had no real room to store. He was going to have to call friends to keep from wasting it all. He grabbed a guest parking pass off the granite kitchen counter where he’d stacked them and headed to answer. He opened the door wide to find Lydia McCarthy staring at him nervously.