Page 73 of Sweet Somethings

"You can come back any time."

"I might take you up on that."

"How are things going for you around here?"

"They're all right," he said, taking a swig of his beer.

"Your grandfather is happy you're back."

"It's not for too long."

"That's what he said. Can I offer a suggestion, even though it's none of my business?"

He gave a nod. "Sure."

"Your grandfather would love nothing more than to give you his business, but he doesn't want you to feel obligated to take it, if your heart is somewhere else."

He stared at John in surprise. "He's never told me that."

"Well, Vince isn't one to say much about what matters to him. But you're his family—his blood. He's proud of you."

"From what I can see, except for this latest remodel, his business is pretty much done."

"Not if you turn the house on Primrose Lane into a winner. Your grandfather has a great eye, and he knows how to make the most out of a house. He's a good manager, but he needs someone to build the business up to what it used to be."

"I'm a Marine, not a contractor."

"I know you're a soldier. And from what I hear, you've been a damn good one. But if there comes a time when you decide to make a change, you might want to give construction and Fairhope a chance. I know one man you'll make very happy with that decision."

He wondered about that. He'd never really thought much about his relationship with his grandfather. They didn't speak about emotions or feelings or anything personal. They were blood, but they were strangers in a lot of ways.

"You know, he wanted your dad to take over his business," John added. "But Brett couldn't hammer a board without hitting his thumb. If there was a paint can to trip over, he'd somehow end up on his back with paint all over him."

He was shocked to realize it was the first time anyone, outside of his grandfather or mother, had ever mentioned his father to him. Even when he'd lived in Fairhope before, the subject had never come up. Although, that might have been because he had rarely spoken to adults during those few rebellious teenage years.

"Your grandfather was disappointed that Brett wouldn't carry on his business, but the man just didn't have the talent for it. He was a good musician, though. You must have gotten those genes from him. He played guitar, too."

"I had no idea."

"Seriously? Your grandfather never told you?"

"We don't talk about my father."

"Well, your dad was very talented. He had a band in high school."

He was more than a little surprised at that. "A band, huh?"

"Yeah. I don't think your grandfather liked it much, but Brett did what he wanted. That seems to be the Prescott way."

"I don't know anything about my father. He wasn't with my mother longer than a few months after I was born, and then he died when I was three. I didn't meet Vincent until I was fifteen. By then, my dad had been gone a long time, and my grandfather didn't like to talk about him, so we didn't."

John nodded with understanding. "Well, they butted heads a lot. Brett had his head in the clouds, and Vincent is a practical sort. He didn't like that Brett wouldn't ever take his advice."

"Do you know what drove them apart? Was there a specific incident?"

"There was. Brett dropped out of college without telling your grandfather. He sold everything Vincent had given him and took the cash and went to California. Vincent didn't find him for almost a year. Brett said he just didn't have the nerve to tell him he hated school. They had some big confrontation. Vincent came back and said they were done. That's all I know. You should ask your grandfather, if you want to know more."

"I doubt he'd tell me more," he murmured. "I can't believe my father didn't tell my grandfather he was leaving school."

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