After her mother left, Crystal went straight to the phone, dialing Larry’s number, which had mysteriously lodged itself in her brain. Funny, it usually took her weeks or months to memorize a number.
“Larry Grosso,” came his clipped greeting.
“Larry, it’s Crystal.”
His tone immediately softened. “Hey, Crystal.”
“Sorry to bother you.”
“What makes you think it’s a bother?”
She found herself unaccountably nervous. “Well, you weren’t expecting me to call…”
“I love it when you call.”
“You do?”
“Yes. What’s up?”
She cleared her throat. “My mother just invited me for dinner tonight.”
Silence.
“It’s some kind of family conference. Something big, or at least big in her mind. Amber’s invited, too.”
“Then our date is off.”
She sighed. “Afraid so.”
He was silent again.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly told him, putting all the sincerity she could muster into her voice. “Really sorry.”
“How late will it go?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Call me after?”
“Yeah?” She couldn’t help the almost breathless tone of anticipation.
“Yeah,” he assured her. “Call me as soon as you’re done.”
LARRY DIDN’T BELIEVE IN LUCK. He believed in hard, cold facts as proven out millions of times a day through the laws of physics and mathematics. But it sure seemed like fate was throwing a lot of roadblocks in his way when it came to Crystal. Given how anxious he was to spend time with her, and how interested she seemed in spending time with him, the law of averages said they should have gotten together more times than they’d managed so far.
If he was a superstitious man, he might be getting a little worried. But he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t, and he was going to finish redecorating the bedroom.
As usual, he’d been up since four. He’d hauled the guest bed down to the basement, moved Libby’s brass bed into the guest room, and was busy reallocating her touches to the living room and dining room.
She’d loved watercolors, where he preferred oils. The mauve and pink floral painting that had hung above their bed was now at one end of the formal dining room. He’d taken a pair of seascapes from the living room and put them on the wall of the bedroom. He’d found a massive, dark oak four-poster in an Internet catalogue this morning. It was being delivered from a local store at noon.
Libby had chosen a French provincial loveseat for their bay window alcove. Larry was replacing it with a pair of hunter-green leather armchairs. The dressers were fine, but the doilies and cut glass perfume bottles could be put away. And right now, he was heading for the hardware store to find a light fixture that would suit his new vision of the room.
“Dad?” Steve’s voice drifted up from the downstairs entry, and there was the sound of the front door closing behind him.
Larry quickly headed out of the master bedroom, hit with a sudden flash of guilt.
“On my way down,” he called over the railing.
He trotted down the stairs to see his son in the entry hall in a blue golf shirt and a pair of navy slacks.
“Where’s Heidi?” he asked, surprised to find Steve alone so soon after their romantic reunion.
“She’s at the vet clinic.” Steve frowned. “What’s this I’m hearing about you and Crystal Hayes?”
Larry slowed to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. “What is it you’re hearing?”
“That you spent this past weekend together.”
“Where are you hearing that?”
Steve took a step forward. “What does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal. I don’t like people gossiping about her.”
“About her? That’s what you’re worried about? What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you having a midlife crisis?”
“What the hell kind of a question is that?”
“You want a sports car, Dad? Because I can get you a sports car.”
“I don’t want a sports car,” Larry growled. He hated that his own son could write off his feelings as nothing more than some statistical hormone grasp at youth.
“You do know she’s younger than I am,” Steve accused.
No. Larry hadn’t known that. Quite frankly, he’d been afraid to ask. It shouldn’t surprise him. It didn’t surprise him. But, damn, it would have been nice if she was a respectable thirty-five.
“I want to know who’s gossiping about her,” he told his son.
“Everybody.”
“Well, everybody ought to get a life. We’re friends. We’ve been on two or three dates.”
“Dates?” Steve snorted his disbelief. “Uncle Dean thinks you’re sleeping with her.”
“My personal life is none of Uncle Dean’s business.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“My personal life is none of your business, either.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Take it any way you want.” Larry didn’t need the third degree from his own son.
“Dad, you need someone your own age. This isn’t going to end well. I’m worried about you.”
Larry hadn’t been thinking about it ending at all. As far as he was concerned, it had barely begun. Crystal was a beautiful, intelligent, incredibly sexy woman who seemed to enjoy his company. Why did that have to be a problem?
“You stop to think about what she’s after?” asked Steve.
Larry glared at him.
“She has to know you have money.”
“How the hell would she know that?” Larry didn’t lead a flamboyant lifestyle. His investments were just that, investments.
Sure they’d done well. He was a mathematician after all. In his second year of graduate school, he’d written an algorithm to predict the stock market. It had worked. But nobody outside the family had any inkling he made any more than a college professor’s salary.
Steve threw up his arms in frustration. “She researched you, Dad. You’re a Grosso. We’re one of NASCAR’s first families.”
“I approached her.”
“The best cons always start that way.”
Larry felt anger well up from the pit of his stomach. Crystal hadn’t researched him. She wasn’t after his money. She wouldn’t even spend the money Simon left her, because she was too principled to touch it. She was one of the most honest, unselfish, honorable women he’d ever met.
His voice went cold. “I think you’d better leave.”
Steve’s jaw clenched tight. “You’re in denial, Dad.”
“I’m falling in love, Steve.”
As he uttered the words, Larry knew they were true. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe the age difference was insurmountable. And maybe Crystal didn’t return his feelings. But, there it was.
It was the reason he was putting Libby into perspective, into the past, in a sweet, warm corner of his heart where she’d stay forever.
“I can’t believe this,” Steve hissed. “Is it about sex? Is that it?”
“This conversation is over,” said Larry.
“What are the odds?” Steve persisted. “You’re a bloody mathematician. What are the odds she’s in love with you-”
“I never said she was in love with me. I said I was in love with her.”
“Well, at least you’ve got that part right.”
“Goodbye, Steven.” Larry crowded his son toward the door.
“Protect your assets, Dad.”
“You don’t know a single thing about her.”
Steve put his hand on the doorknob. “Maybe not, but you can bet I’m going to find out.”
“Don’t do it.”
Steve’s gaze bore into his. “Afraid of what I might find out?”
“I’m afraid you might hurt Crystal.”
“Dad.” Steve’s sigh was pleading.
“I’m an intelligent man, son.”