Page 73 of Fallen Hearts

“Kidding, obviously. I consider Pia a friend.”

“She said the same thing about you.”

“See? The woman also has good taste.” He made a face. “Usually.”

I swear Beck couldn’t be serious for three seconds if his life depended on it.

“So now what?”

“With Pia?”

Beck rolled his eyes. “No, with the baseboard. Of course with Pia.”

“I dunno. I’m making her dinner tonight. We definitely need to talk.”

“Good start. What are you going to say?”

I shrugged. “That I can’t get into anything serious. Not without knowing where I’ll land in a few weeks. I’m meeting with Paul Baker on Friday.”

“Still thinking of selling?”

Frowning, I tried to sort out my current thoughts aloud. “I have to at least hear his offer. I can’t imagine walking away from a pension, or Heritage Hill. With you guys here, and Esther?—”

“And Pia.”

“Right. And Pia.” Banking on the fact that Beck knew my father better than any of the guys, and the hope that he could manage a serious conversation, I asked the question I’d been wondering these past few days.

“What do you think Papa Bennett would tell me to do?”

Beck grabbed the bill of his hat, squeezing it. His tell. It meant he was unsure. Not surprising since it was a major life decision, and no one, including Beck, could tell me what Dad would say. It was a stupid question.

“Never mind,” I said, standing.

“Wait.” He circled his neck, another of Beck’s nervous habits. If there was a person alive with undiagnosed ADHD, it was Beck. “This might be a cop-out, but I don’t think he’d give you a straight response. He’d ask questions. Like… Mason.” Beck used his Papa Bennett voice. “What’s most important to you? Time? Money? Relationships? Quality of life? Decide that and the answer will come easier.”

That did sound remarkably like my father.

“You’re a piece of work.”

“I also think he’d remind you I’m unlikely to ever leave Cedar Falls, which is a major plus in the ‘stay here’ category.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Smiling, I pulled a box of nails from the bag. “Thanks,” I said, effectively ending the conversation. “Oh, by the way, I saw your Aunt Ginny when I went into town. She mentioned your mom was on a girls trip in Aruba?”

“Sure,” he said. “Girls trip.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

He sighed. “Last time I saw Dad was in late August, strolling down Shethar Street not even bothering to hide his new mistress. My guess is Mom found out, hence, girls trip.” He put the last phrase in quotes.

“You haven’t talked to her?”

“I did, just last week. But she didn’t say anything about a trip so…” He shrugged, like it was no big deal. But I knew otherwise.

“Hey there.”

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