Page 38 of Hot to Trot

Harvey gave her one last hard look before slinking toward an older Lincoln Continental parked down the street. Scarlet shoved her trembling hands in the pockets of her shorts. She didn't want her nephew to know how affected she'd been by the exchange.

"What was he doing, here, Aunt Scarlet?" Henry jogged over to her, as if he could sense her unease.

"I don't know," she said, curling an arm around his neck. "But I bet that's the last we see of him."

"He's kindascary. He always wears black and he never smiles. He's like a bad guy in a movie."

Scarlet steered him toward the inn. "I don't think he's a bad guy. He's a scared guy.”

Henry stopped. "Of what? He's a grown-up."

She paused for a moment, trying to recapture her Aunt of the Year vibe. "Well, all people are scared of something. Mr. Primm is afraid of the world he lives in, so he tries to control it."

"I don't get it."

"The world around us constantly changes. We have to learn how to change with it. But that's hard for a lot of people. They want to have their own version of how the world should be. Mr. Primm wants to go backward, to rewind to a time he understood, a time when he was happier, but he can't do that. None of us can go back in time. Gotta remember there are plenty of things wrong with the past, and there are things-"

Henry's eyes took on a glazed appearance as he zoned out. She'd rattled off coffee-shop philosophies to nine-year-old. What was she thinking?

"What I'm trying to say is people need to be able to choose. Mr. Primm wants to take that right away because he's scared of where it may lead. He doesn't have faith in other people, and that's no way to live."

Even as she said the words, she wondered if she'd done much the same. Hadn't she clung to the past, holding fast to empty love for John? Hadn't she lost faith in people? People like Brent... or even Adam?

"Oh," Henry said, scratching his head. "I get it. It's like making someone play a position without giving him a chance to play what he wants. Like when Coach Armbruster made Hunter play on the offensive line just 'cause he's big. That wasn't fair. I like giving people chances. I like being fair."

Scarlet wasn't sure her nephew completely got what she meant. But whatever. "Yeah, something like that, Tiger." She ruffled his close-cropped hair and withdrew a damp hand. Boys sweated. A lot.

"Okay, let's head in. And, Henry, if you see Mr. Primm hanging around again, don't talk to him. Go inside and tell someone. Okay?"

"Sure," he said, pounding up the back steps of the porch. Not only were little boys sweaty, but they were loud, too.

"Mo-om!"Henry called as he banged open the door that led to the kitchen. “Aunt Scarlet got in a fight with Mr. Primm!"

Oh, no, he did not.

Scarlet sped up the steps, hoping to do damage control. Little boys were sweaty, loud, and had big mouths.

Rayne met Scarlet at the door. "What's he talking about?" Rayne had braided her hair and wore a snug polka-dot apron with a ruffle at the hem. Her label. She also wore a frown.

"Oh, nothing. Harvey stopped by to give me his regards."

"Was he harassing you?" She slapped a wooden spoon against her palm. She looked like a mob boss ready to mete out justice to anyone crossing her or hers. It made Scarlet smile. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing. You. What are you going to do? Whack him with a spoon? I think you being arrested for assault will do more damage to your show's reputation than your passionate sister handcuffing herself to a flagpole during a protest."

Rayne rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to hit anyone. Yet."

"He's upset I'm destroying his credibility or whatever. He waved a Dallas newspaper at me. The picture of him holding the book and pointing a condemning finger wasn't very flattering."

"We better watch him. I don't trust him. No one does. A man like that digging up dirt on his neighbors and then sitting on the pew beside them every Sunday, holier-than-thou. Something's wrong with him." Rayne went back to the saute pan on the huge Viking range.

The kitchen smelled like bacon. And cake. Two tantalizing smells that complemented each other.

"I'm not worried. He's a bitter, grieving old man. Not a criminal."

Brent came in. "Man, I'm starved. Writing about swim meets gives me the munchies." He nuzzled Rayne's neck, sneaking a hand down to her bottom.

"Um, hello? I'm sitting right here," Scarlet said from a stool on the other side of the kitchen island.

---