Page 70 of Anchor Point

A soft smile flitted across Kylie’s face. “I’m really happy for you, Mac.” With that, she turned to face the others. “Hey guys, let’s skip the ice cream part of the night and go straight to the wine part.”

“I’m in,” said Jordan. They uttered their goodbyes and started walking away.

“Oh! Captain, did you hear about Francis?” Leah turned, calling back to me.

“I didn’t. How is she?”

“She’s at the rehab facility, terrorizing the nurses and pretty much creating havoc. They busted her for organizing a gambling ring.” Leah chuckled, her eyes alight with adoration as she spoke of Francis.

“Who’s that?” Olivia asked.

“Mrs. Francis O’Malley. Probably the biggest flirt you’ll ever meet, and definitely the coolest woman I’ve ever met,” Jordan supplied.

“What happened to her?”

“She fell and got a new bionic hip, as she calls it. She’s threatening to lead hula hoop classes when they release her from PT.” Leah shook her head as if she didn’t know what to make of it.

Kylie grimaced. “I actually feel sorry for her therapist.”

Jordan’s eyebrows shot to her forehead. “Wow, that’s saying a lot.”

“So, she enjoys the facility?” Olivia asked. The sincerity in her tone suggested that she needed to hear confirmation.

“Oh, definitely,” the three said.

“We’ve just had to place my father in a home. It makes me feel better knowing that others are enjoying their situation.” The relief in her voice took me back a step. Other than right before her conference, I hadn’t heard anything else about her father. One more thing she was keeping to herself, keeping from me.

But I guess in the grand scheme of things, though we’d met years ago, we didn’t really know each other.

Rosie and I moved forward with the line, as Olivia and the others stepped aside to talk about caregivers. Was coming here, coming out in public with them, the smart thing to do? If it came down to having to choose between me or the job, which one would Olivia pick? And why hadn’t she shared this bit about her father?

Clearly, now that I paid attention to her, I could see the tension in her in the way she held herself as she talked with the others, almost as if she’d held these women—hell, all people—at arm’s length. It was only as she became more comfortable around the ladies did I see her shoulders drop, her smiles coming more readily, more earnestly. And seeing her talk about the secret worries she held, how she relaxed and let some of her burden go, gave me clarity. She needed these people around her. People who would befriend her, help her.

Would I ever be enough for her and Rosie?

I shook off the little twinge of doubt that reared its head. After all, I was supposed to be here with Rosie as much as with her mom.

Olivia joined us at the Adirondacks a bit later, all signs of discomfort gone. Apparently, having other women to chat with made her happy.

“I like them,” she said, licking her cone and causing me to have an instant reaction.

I grunted. “They’re good people.”

“Uh, oh. He’s grunting,” Rosie quipped. “You know what that means.”

Olivia looked at Rosie with a question in her eyes.

I lowered my cone and gave Rosie my best stern look. “What’s it mean?”

“You aren’t happy about something. You get all grunty when you don’t like what you hear or what you have to say.”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “He does, doesn’t he.”

“Okay, you two. It’s not gang-up-on-Mac time.”

“But it’s so much fun.”

I relaxed then, because my daughter’s smiles were contagious, and she looked happy, and I was determined to enjoy it. Even if it meant becoming a sap over a stubborn, mouthy teenage female and her equally as stubborn, mouthy mother.

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