Page 65 of Secondhand Smoke
He remained guarded behind his screen door. “I know who you are.” He nodded slowly. “What do you want?”
Nell shifted on her feet. “I’m waiting for Scott.”
“Scott?” He’d hidden his surprise when she knew his name well enough but failed spectacularly when she said Scott’s. “Why do you need him?”
“We’re . . .”Friends? Acquaintances? Old schoolmates? Complicated?“He’s my guitar teacher.”
Ron’s gaze wasn’t annoyed anymore. He’d traded in the set-brow glare for a raised-brow glare instead, curious and suspicious at once—a more pleasant one to add to the others she’d gotten from the people who drove by her on her way there.
He wasn’t quite adding up to the gentle, caring, ever-loving uncle Barrett had painted for her, but who was she to judge based on first impressions?
“I can wait out here until he arrives,” she offered.
Ron shook his hand and, in an unlikely turn of events, pushed open the screen door. “Come in.”
Nell hesitated a second, then did as he said and followed him inside.
It was a wonder she had thought that no one was home. A jingle blared on the TV. A fan blew through the living room to cool it down in the summer heat.
She’d been able to hear Barrett’s music whenever she pulled up in the past, through the thin walls, yet somehow she’d missed all this noise.
Ron left her by the door and walked into the adjoining kitchen, where he started opening cabinets.
Normally, Nell would make herself at home on the cushioned chair with Sandra on her knee, and Barrett would start explaining whatever he was teaching. Without Barrett there, replaced by his rather aloof uncle, she’d lost that boyish comfort Barrett always provided her. So she stuck by the door, her hand fiddling with the edges of KC’s song in her pocket to help with the awkwardness.
A minute later, Ron was back in the room with two mugs in his hand—one steaming, one not. He gestured with one of them at the living room and led the way in, with Nell behind him. Nell settled onto the soft sofa as Ron presented the non-steaming mug to her.
She muttered a soft thanks and took it into her hands. It was cold to the touch, and a quick look inside told her she was holding water. She managed to get a whiff of the coffee in Ron’s cup as he sat down on the chair.
Nell took a small sip, watching the team on the television gain control of the ball again and drive it into the end zone.
“So, how do you know Scott?” Ron didn’t seem interested in his football anymore.
Nell cleared her throat. “We went to school together.”
“That’s how you met?”
“Sort of. I hadn’t seen him for a few years, but we met again not too long ago, at his work.”
“Did you go there for lessons?”
“I went there for . . .” She paused. Probably best not to get into the details of why she’d gone there, why Barrett noticed her, and why she’d had a reason to go back looking for him. She had no idea if Ron knew about Barrett’s profession outside of music. She didn’t want to rat him out if not. “I was looking at music.”
Ron nodded again and hummed into his coffee.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Ron didn’t come across as aggressive or standoffish anymore; rather, there was a sense that he was trying to gauge why Nell, who on the surface was nothing like his nephew, had come around looking for the boy.
The pastor’s daughter looking for his drug-dealing nephew. She didn’t blame him for being cautious.
“Scott told me a lot about you,” she tried to lighten the mood.
Ron’s mug stopped on the edge of his mouth. He met her eyes over the brim, studying her. “He talks to you about me?”
“Briefly, really.” She was glad she had the glass to hold onto to keep her hands from fidgeting. “Good things only.”
“And youjustlearn guitar from him?”
She paused, biting her lip. “We’re also friends.”
