Page 23 of Love In Translation

Paddy told Rheo about her trip, and Rheo listened, enjoying her grandmother’s sharp wit and perceptive observations. She wanted to be just like Paddy when she grew up. Strong, opinionated, independent, and financially free. Paddy had taken the money her ex gave her in the divorce, bought a few houses, and flipped them. Then she bought some apartment blocks and managed those for most of her life. At seventy, she employed a manager and moved into fundraising for charities, using her forceful personality to open wallets. At eighty, she decided she needed to see the world and opted to visit Australia first. Rheo was pretty sure Paddy had the country whipped into shape already. Rheo adored her, but her grandmother scared her.

Just a little.

After Rheo batted away Paddy’s questions about her life and job—“all good, nothing to tell”—Paddy changed the subject.

“How are your parents?”

“Fine, I guess. I haven’t heard otherwise.” Rheo sighed.

For the past eighteen months, Rheo’s dad and Paddy had waged an ongoing war about whether or not Ed had demanded to see his mother’s will. Paddy said he did, that Ed wanted to know what he could expect to inherit from her, and that her money was his retirement plan.

Ed insisted that he’d only asked Paddy whether shehada will, but Paddy vociferously disagreed. Knowing her dad’s irresponsibility, and his lackadaisical approach to money and the future, Rheo believed Paddy. But Ed could be extraordinarily stubborn on occasion, and he wasn’t backing down. As a result, mother and son hadn’t spoken for over a year. Messages and news passed through Rheo during their biweekly calls and monthly emails.

Rheo, tell your father...

Rheo, tell your grandmother...

“Where are they at the moment?” Paddy asked with a less than normal vigor.

Rheo frowned, needing a moment to think. “Somewhere in Western Canada. I haven’t spoken to them lately.”

“I presume you’ve been very busy with the UN General Assembly being in session.”

“Mmm-hmm.” There were omissions and there were outright lies, and Rheo tried to avoid the latter whenever she could, so she switched subjects. “Where are you? Still on the Gold Coast?”

“I’m staying at a superb inn in the Barossa Valley, quaffing truly excellent wine and eating superb food.”

The poor woman was having, obviously, amiserabletime. Rheo’s heart bled for her.

“I’m thinking about staying longer, another month or two at least.”

That would put Paddy’s return at the end of August or September. Not that it mattered—Rheo would be out of here soon. “Okay. Are you returning to Portland, or will you swing past the Pink House?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“I’m not sure. Did you hear that I’ve rented the Pink House? To a friend of Carrie’s, but I’m sure he’s her lover.”

Not a lover!Rheo wanted to protest, but kept her lips welded together.

“I need to think about what to do with the Pink House, Rheo,” Paddy continued. “It’s empty more often than not and needs serious maintenance. It’s been a lovely indulgence, but the costs are rising.”

“But you love this house,” Rheo spluttered. “You can’t sell it!”

“Who said anything about selling it?” Paddy pounced on her words.

Rheo cursed. She’d made it through a long and stressful day, and wasn’t up to sparring with her grandmother tonight. To be fair, she seldom was. “Sorry, I assumed that’s what you meant.”

“Something is going on with you, Rheo Jane,” Paddy murmured after an intense ten seconds of silence.

Rheo mashed her lips together. If she jumped in with a denial, she’d never hear the end of it. Paddy would dig and dig, and Rheo would cave.

She couldn’t. Currently, she wasn’t strong enough to face Paddy’s criticism or deal with her disappointment. Paddy never let her down—she loved her, supported her, and didn’t try to change her. When Rheo had a plan in place, a way forward, when she’d fixed her mess, she’d confess all and take her grandmother’s criticism on the chin. For now, she’d keep her silence for as long as possible.

“I must go,” Paddy declared. But she still had one more bullet to fire. “How’s that young man of yours... Colin?”

“Callum?” Rheo corrected her, guilt dancing under her skin. “He’s fine.” She hadn’t heard anything to the contrary. She wasn’t lying...technically.

“Stable, steady, but not exciting,” Paddy commented, getting a dig in. “He sounds as impressive as a white crayon.”

Her grandmother was smart but possessed the ability to strip wallpaper with her tongue. The fact that she was also right was intensely annoying.

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