Page 41 of Gentle Persuasion

Debbie wiggled. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to smile. But it was no use. Buddy was the first to benefit from her joy. He walked into the living room and stopped, caught in place by the look on her face.

“Uh…” He didn’t know whether to run or stand and take it. She didn’t give him a choice. She threw herself into his arms and announced, “I love you, Robert Allen Brownfield. In fact, I love all the Brownfields. And just because I do, I’m going to make you a cherry pie.”

Morgan walked in on the scene and began to grin. He’d heard Cole leaving. He knew what had put that smile on Debbie’s face.

“What about me?” Morgan teased. “I’m a poor old grandfather without sustenance…or sense. If I had any, I’d have dumped these fool sons of mine years ago and found myself someone like you.”

“Pooh,” Debbie said. “But you’ll share the pie, won’t you, Buddy?”

His attention wavered. He’d just gotten used to the idea of pie. He wasn’t certain about the sharing part at all.

“Can’t you, Buddy?” Debbie was persistent.

He caved in. “Lily named her baby, Charles Morgan Longren. I think I’ll call him Charlie.”

Debbie and Morgan stared at each other, trying to make sense of what Buddy had just said. They knew the baby had been named for both grandfathers. What it had to do with cherry pies was beyond either of them.

“That’s a good idea, son,” Morgan said as Buddy wandered away. And then he turned and fixed Debbie with a hard, warning look. “If you and Cole have a child like Buddy, I may disown the both of you.”

She blushed. First at the thought of having Cole’s child, and then at the thought that Morgan knew it might be possible. That meant he knew, or suspected, what had happened between them.

“Don’t,” Morgan said, instantly sorry for what he’d inadvertently implied. “I’m sorry. I’m just an old man meddling into other people’s—”

“You’re not old, and you don’t meddle.” She laughed. “And I’ve got to go make a pie.”

She disappeared into the kitchen. Morgan saw the shadows in her eyes. He knew she masked her apprehension behind teasing and laughter. And he suspected that his son was dragging his feet about commitments. He sighed. I’m too old for this nonsense, he thought. And Cole is a bigger fool than I’d ever imagined if he lets this one get away.

***

A smaller version of Rick Garza met them at the door wearing the latest in Batman gear and sporting a Superman cape. Debbie smiled. This kid was hedging his bets. If one superhero failed him, he had another on which to fall back.

“Hi, Uncle Cole. Who’s that?” He pointed at Debbie and blew a bubble that popped across his nose and chin.

“That’s my girl,” Cole answered, and grinned as the small child made a gagging noise and fell to the floor in an exaggerated fit of disgust.

“Yuck,” Enrique said, his dark eyes flashing with merriment. He heard his mother coming and rolled to his feet as she came dashing into the room.

“Enrique! Your manners.” Rick’s wife, Tina, made a flying leap for her child and frowned as he ducked her grab and swooped away down the hall shrieking the theme from Batman.

“I’m sorry,” Tina Garza said. “Seven is a difficult age.” And then she grinned. “Six wasn’t any better and neither was five or…” she shrugged. “You get the picture. Come in. You must be Debbie.”

Debbie nodded and walked into a house warm with laughter and love, smothered in jalapeños and cheeses. The aroma of something delicious and Mexican drifted across her path.

She’d already met Rick. Her trip to the emergency room was one she’d like to forget, but not the driver. Rick had been as concerned for her welfare as had Cole. He’d pushed the limits of street safety to get her to the hospital as fast a possible.

The relaxed atmosphere at the Garzas’ home was a welcome respite from the busy traffic of Laguna Beach. She took a deep breath and had the most insane urge to kick off her shoes and follow Tina Garza into the kitchen. She felt welcome.

Cole visibly unwound. It was obvious that this was his home away from home.

“Hey, you guys!” Rick yelled from the adjoining room. “You’re just in time. The hundred-meter freestyle is about to begin. Come on in.” He was glued to the set, watching the prerecorded telecasts of the day’s Olympic events.

Tina rolled her eyes. “Come with me,” she urged, taking Debbie by the hand. “You can help chop tomatoes. Those two aren’t worth two pesos when there’s a sporting event on television.”

Cole disappeared with a shrug and a grin, and Debbie followed Tina into the kitchen, missing nothing of her diminutive height or the slightly rounded belly that gave away the fact that little Batman Garza was about to lose his standing in the family as “an only child.”

Tina handed her a bowl of tomatoes and a paring knife.

Debbie began to peel and dice according to her hostess’s instructions.

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