Page 29 of Seasoned
“That’s how he met my mom. Her father ran the construction company he worked for, and she worked in the office. They started dating, but my grandpa didn’t approve. He thought my mother could do better.” Chelsea rolled her eyes.
“But love prevailed,” Renee said, her heart tightening with sympathy for Clive. She couldn’t imagine how that must have made him feel, and she realized she’d had her own reservations because he didn’t fit the mold of the type of man she’d envisioned herself being with.
Chelsea’s face brightened. “It did. My mom left the company, she and my dad got married, and Dad opened his own construction company. Mom answered the phones, did all his paperwork—everything she used to do for grandpa. Those guys out there stood by his side when he married my mom, and…when he lost her. That was a tough time for all of us.” Her voice throbbed with pain at the end.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine.” Chelsea played with the ribbon in her hair and took a deep breath to corral her emotions. “After she died, Dad was devastated. That’s how these get-togethers started. I know the noise bothered you, but they started because, when my mother died, my father was in a dark place. She was his everything, you know? And he became very depressed, couldn’t get out of bed. He forgot how to enjoy himself. Jayson—God bless him—suggested a few of them come over to cheer up my dad, and they started visiting regularly to get him out of his funk. That’s when we lived in the old house, and they continued the tradition even after he was okay. These barbecues and guys’ nights out keep them connected, and they help each other. They helped when Dave and Misty lost their son and when Gary, who’s not here tonight, had a cancer scare. Only six of them from the original team still live around here and come over, but Dad keeps up with some of the guys in other parts of the country, too. “
“That kind of friendship isn’t easy to come by,” Renee said softly.
“No, it’s not. Anyway, I’ve said too much.” Chelsea gave an embarrassed laugh. “I just wanted you to know how important those guys are to him. How important they are to each other.”
“I understand, Chelsea. Believe me, I understand.”
13
The guests had left an hour ago after they all watched an impressive fireworks display in the distance, courtesy of the Port of San Diego. Cleaning up took Clive, Chelsea, and Renee about forty-five minutes before they completed all tasks and had the house back in order.
Chelsea yawned exaggeratedly, covering her mouth and then lifting her arms upward into a stretch. “Guess I’ll head upstairs and join Samson and Margie.” The lateness of the evening and running around for hours had caused Margie, with little prodding, to go upstairs earlier, her eyes drooping so low they’d almost closed entirely. Samson had followed her up to her room.
“It was good talking to you tonight, Renee.”
“Nice talking to you, too,” Renee replied, appreciative of the insight she’d gleaned into Clive’s past.
“Don’t be a stranger.” Chelsea made eye contact with her father and sent him a silent message. “Good night, Dad.”
“Good night.” After she left, Clive added, “That’s my daughter. Real subtle.”
Renee giggled.
Clive glanced around the kitchen. “Thanks for staying behind and helping out. You’re a guest and shouldn’t have had to clean up. I owe you one.”
“Please, you don’t owe me anything. It’s only a fraction of what you’ve done for me at the house.”
“I hope you don’t feel like you owe me anything,” Clive said with a frown.
“Absolutely not.”
“Although if you want to pay me back…” he said with a leer, wiggling his thick eyebrows.
Renee placed a hand on her hip. “I said, absolutely not.”
Clive let out a throaty laugh that made her smile. She couldn’t imagine this man depressed and struggling to get out of bed.
“Care for another drink?” Clive asked.
“I could use a beer, if you have any left.”
“Sure do.” He grabbed two bottles from the refrigerator, opened both bottles, and handed one to her. “Let’s go outside.” He slipped his hand into hers.
On the deck, they stood close, leaning against the railing as they overlooked the yard. They sipped their drinks in silence. The sounds of laughter and music came from a couple of doors down, and the sound of firecrackers popped in the distance.
“Chelsea told me how difficult life was for you after your wife passed.”
He glanced at her. “You feel sorry for me now?”
“I’m sure you’re fine, but I can’t help feeling a bit sympathetic. I’ve never known that type of loss—that kind of love where losing the other person could thrust me into a depression.” What did loving someone like that feel like? What did being loved like that feel like? She’d been married three times and had never known that type of emotional attachment.
