The Perfect Hope Part 42

Ryder opened the fridge for a beer, spotted the bowl of potato salad. Grinned. "Keep your fingers out of that," Justine ordered, antic.i.p.ating him. "Wash your hands."

So Hope ate grilled chicken and potato salad on the deck in the early summer evening, hip to hip with Ryder, with dogs wandering mournfully in the yard hoping for handouts.

Except for Tyrone. He sat-despite Justine's protests-in w.i.l.l.y B's lap, gazing up with s.h.i.+ning love.

"This sure is good."

Justine arched her eyebrows. "How much are you sneaking to that dog?"

"Oh now, Justine, I'm not. He's a good boy-aren't you a good boy? He's not even begging." Tyrone planted his front paws on w.i.l.l.y B's ma.s.sive chest and wiggled in ecstasy as he licked w.i.l.l.y B's bearded face.

Then the dog laid his head on w.i.l.l.y B's shoulder.

"That's it." Avery shook her head. "Dad, that's your dog."

The same s.h.i.+ning love beamed out of w.i.l.l.y B and he stroked the dog's back. "He's my first granddog."

"No, he's your dog. You're taking him."

"Avery, I'm not taking your pup!"

"That dog's yours. I know love at first sight when I see it, and I'm looking at it. He likes me, and he'll love me eventually. But he's in love with you. And you're in love with him. You're taking him."

"She's right," Owen agreed. "You're made for each other."

The little dog snuggled into the big man's arms.

"I wouldn't feel right taking ..." Tyrone turned his head, stared at w.i.l.l.y B with his dark, bulging eyes. "Are you sure?"

"You come by on the way home, get his things. You just got an extra Father's Day present."

"Best one ever. But if you change your mind-"

"Dad." Avery reached over, gave Tyrone's back an affectionate scratch. "Love's love."

Yes, it was, Hope thought. And there was plenty of it to go around on an early summer evening.

When the food was cleared they managed to interest the boys in the toys Justine had started stockpiling in a spare room. The room she now thought of as the boys' room.

They sat outside as Hope related the details of her eventful Friday night.

"Before we talk about what all of this might mean, and so on, I wanted to ask you, Justine, if we should have any sort of a policy. Do you want me to tell people about Lizzy, or not tell them?"

"I think a policy is too limiting. You should handle it just the way you are. You judge, guest by guest, what to say, how much to say. This is the first time she's ever disturbed anyone," Justine considered. "And it seems like she did it on purpose. She didn't like seeing someone being rude to you."

"Ought to have better manners," w.i.l.l.y B commented and gave Tyrone a tickle under the chin. Tyrone grumbled happily in his throat.

"Well, manners aren't requirements for paying guests. They're a nice benefit. I've certainly dealt with ruder."

"But we're not talking about Ry," Beckett pointed out, and grinned when Ryder sneered at him.

"I think Lizzy makes certain allowances," Hope continued. "I mentioned broadening those allowances to her."

"You talked to her again?" Owen asked.

"Not exactly. I talk to her now and then. She doesn't talk back. Except for Friday night."

"It's heartbreaking," Clare murmured. "What she said about fading."

"And yet she rarely seems sad. She's got hope." Beckett smiled at Hope. "She had it even before you. I can't figure why she mentioned Ryder. He had less to do with her than me and Owen."

"How do you know?" Ryder demanded.

"I don't remember you saying much about her until she played games with you and Hope in The Penthouse."

"We all spent plenty of time in that place, together, separately. I got along with her. We gave each other s.p.a.ce."

"Did you ever see her?" Owen asked him.

"You don't have to see her to know she's there. She didn't like Shawn-you know the carpenter we hired on right after we got started?"

"n.o.body liked Shawn after we found out he was skimming materials for side jobs," Owen pointed out.

"And hitting on Denny's wife. What kind of idiot makes a play for the wife of a town cop, especially when the town cop's a friend of his bosses-and the woman's not interested?"

"Before we didn't like him, and fired him-Lizzy didn't like him. She used to hide his tools, his lunch bucket, his gloves, like that. At first I thought he was just being careless, then I found some of his things down in the old bas.e.m.e.nt, where he hadn't been. All stacked up neat and tidy-and smelling like honeysuckle."

"A better judge of character than we were in that case," Owen decided.

"Sounds like. She'd spook some of the crew now and then, but sort of playful. And ..."

"Uh-oh." Beckett pointed at him. "You've been holding back."

"It didn't seem relevant. But since we're getting in deeper." Ryder shrugged. "That time with Hope wasn't the first time she'd stuck me in The Penthouse. Right after Hope showed up, and Mom hired her. On the spot."

"Proving I'm a good judge of character."

"Well, okay, yeah. Anyway, maybe I was a little irritated about hiring somebody so fast, without talking it over."

"You were rude," his mother reminded him. "Rude and pigheaded."

"It's not pigheaded to express an opinion. Rude, okay. I apologized," he pointed out. "Maybe I was still a little steamed. I went back up to do a little more work. The door slammed shut behind me, and wouldn't open. We didn't have the lock sets on yet, but that d.a.m.n door wouldn't open."

"She gave you the smackdown," Avery said.

"Who's telling the story? I could smell her in there, and that just p.i.s.sed me off more. Windows won't budge, door won't budge. She f.u.c.king grounded me." Then he laughed, quick and easy. "You've gotta respect that. Then she wrote your name on the window gla.s.s, inside a little heart."

Hope blinked in surprise. "My name?"