Page 37 of Clean Sweep
“Wedding?”
Leslie sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Apparently Landon has scheduled a date for the wedding.”
“Really?”
She made a face that indicated displeasure, but I saw more concern than annoyance there. The pad of her thumb ran over the screen of her phone, as if she could coax something out of it with a gentle touch.
“I’ve been texting him, but he keeps saying he’s busy and will call later. So far, he hasn’t. It’s been almost two weeks since that . . .awkward. . . lunch and he’s dodged all my calls. My ex-husband Ethan was here a few days ago and mentioned the wedding date. Landon has been, obviously, avoiding me on purpose.”
“I wonder why?”
“Great question,” she muttered.
The details didn’t quite stack together. Would I expect something like this from any of the Miller boys? Not really.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
Leslie illuminated like a Christmas tree. “Right?” She threw up her hands. “Thank you. None of this makes sense. I mean, maybe from Max because he’s always found it really fun to play pranks on me, but from Landon?”
“Think he’s hiding something?”
“I don’t know.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “That makes the most sense, but what?” She laughed a little. “Starla already told me she’s not pregnant. Besides, why hide that anyway? I’ve always told my sons I’d love them no matter what.”
“Having been on the twenty-something side of the male brain before, I can assure you that that doesn’t matter in his decision-making process right now.”
She huffed a wry laugh. “Fair.” A thoughtful expression came to her face. “How closewereyou with Landon?”
I sensed something coming, but couldn’t peg what it was.
“He was one of my favorites. We spent a lot of time working together on his leadership skills as the team captain. But that was years ago.”
“Yes, but he clearly looks up to you.”
“Why?”
The pleading expression that followed would have kneecapped a lesser man.
“Could you try talking to Landon? I can’t explain it, but I get the feeling that he’s flailing and doesn’t have anyone that he feels he can talk to.” She held up a hand with a roll of her eyes. “Never mind that his dear mother is always here for him. He’s clearly not talking to Ethan about whatever is driving him to these decisions either. Maybe he would talk to you?”
The lingering question sat in the air between us, and I wanted to counter withbut what if he doesn’t?
From one parent to another, I could appreciate her desperation. As a parent, sometimes it was just enough to know that your kid confided in someone trustworthy, and wasn’t totally headed for the deep end. Not to mention my inherent curiosity, but this had disaster spelled all over it.
Still, I couldn’t resist the lure of helping her in some way.
“Sure.”
She let out a long breath. “Oh, thank you. I can’t tell you what that means.”
“Text me his number and I’ll give him a call.”
Leslie was already on her phone, head bent to the task, as I said the words. Not five seconds later, she declared, “Done.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes.”
She reached out and a warm hand touched my wrist. A little shiver slipped through me that I attempted to ignore, almost entirely distracted by the gratitude that filled her lovely eyes.
“Thanks.”
