Tom pushed aside his plate and sat back with a sigh. “I’m sorry that I’m not ambitious enough to suit you. I like knowing the people in my community. I like seeing the results of decisions I’ve made when I step outside my office. I like solving problems for individuals and for the town.”
“What the hell do you think politics is about?” his father bellowed. “It’s all that, but on a much grander scale.”
“Maybe so,” Tom conceded. “When it’s not about raising enough money to win an election or taking the most popular stance to win the next election or doing the expedient thing to get the backing of some organization. I’m not saying there aren’t decent, hardworking politicians who can do a lot of good, but I don’t have the patience to deal with all the rest of it. I’m sorry. Obviously you and I will never agree about this. I hope we’re not going to have this same discussion every time we see each other.”
“I can’t promise you that,” his father said sourly. “I’ll never give up trying to talk some sense into you.”
Tom sighed heavily, wishing he could understand why this mattered so much to his father. Since figuring out what made his father tick seemed unlikely, he settled for trying to make peace.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to drive over to Serenity one Saturday and play golf with me there, take a look around? We have a first-class restaurant, too. I think you and Mom would like it.”
His father looked as if he was about to dismiss the suggestion out of hand, but his mother came into the room in time to hear the invitation.
“We’d love to do that, wouldn’t we, Thomas?” she said, giving her husband a fierce look.
“Whatever you want,” he mumbled. “I need to go. I have an early tee time.”
“Shall I expect you for lunch?” Tom’s mother inquired.
“No, I’ll eat at the club.” He was halfway out the door, when he turned and said, “Good to see you, son.”
“You, too, Dad.”
After he’d gone, Tom turned to his mother. “Well, there was no bloodshed. I’d say that’s an improvement.”
She shook her head and sat down facing him. “I don’t understand why the two of you can’t see eye to eye on anything.”
“Because I won’t bend to his will. I know he wants what he thinks is best for me, but one of these days he needs to listen to what I want.”
Clarisse McDonald gave him an amused look. “Oh, I think you’ve made yourself abundantly clear. He just disagrees. He had such hopes for you.”
“I know, and I understand that it’s normal for a father to want certain things for his son, but Dad seems obsessed with getting his way, no matter how many times I explain that I’m happy with the path I’ve chosen.”
“You know why that is, don’t you?”
“Because he’s a stubborn old coot?” Tom suggested.
His mother frowned. “He doesn’t deserve your disrespect. Someday you need to come down off your high horse, Tom, and really talk to him. Life wasn’t as easy for him as it has been for you.”
Tom was taken aback. “The McDonalds have had wealth and a place in Charleston society for generations.”
“No thanks to your grandfather,” his mother said with obvious distaste.
Tom regarded her with surprise. “What does that mean?” He barely remembered his grandfather McDonald beyond the fact that he’d always tucked a quarter into Tom’s hand, then chortled when he’d said, “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“Ask your father about him,” his mother said. “Perhaps then you’ll understand him a little better.”
“Couldn’t you just tell me?”
“I could, but the two of you need to learn to communicate,” she informed him. “Now, tell me about this little town you’re running. Are you happy there?”
“I’m still getting a feel for the place,” he admitted. “But I think I’m going to like it.” He thought of the woman he’d met on his visit to The Corner Spa. “It definitely has some intriguing residents.”
His mother’s expression brightened. “A woman? One in particular?”
“Possibly.”
“Tell me,” she commanded, leaning forward with interest.
“There’s not much to tell. I don’t even know her name. I ran into her outside a women’s spa. We exchanged a few words and then she shut the door in my face.”
His mother sat back, her expression indignant. “Well, that doesn’t sound very pleasant. She must not have very good breeding.”
Tom grinned. “I didn’t inquire about her pedigree, Mother. She was already annoyed enough.”
“I’m just saying that a lady does not go around shutting doors in people’s faces.”
“I’ll explain that to her when we cross paths again.” And they would cross paths. He intended to see to that. He figured Cal Maddox might have some ideas along that line since the woman in question must work with his wife.
Thinking of Cal reminded him of the Little League proposal. Wanting to change the subject, he decided to mention that. His mother had always been a big supporter of his interest in baseball, even though she’d embarrassed the daylights out of him by coming to his games outfitted as if she were going to tea with the queen.
“Wait till you hear about this,” he said, and described his meeting with Cal Maddox.
“There’s a former professional ballplayer living in Serenity?” she said, clearly stunned. “I had no idea.”
Tom laughed at her expression. “You’d probably be surprised by a few more of the people you’d meet there. Ever heard of Paula Vreeland?”
“The artist? Of course. Her works are displayed at some of the finer galleries here in Charleston.”
“She lives in Serenity.”
His mother shook her head. “You must be mistaken. I’m quite sure she lives here.”
“Nope. The mayor pointed out her home and studio when he drove me around town. And this spa I mentioned has apparently received a lot of acclaim around the entire region, as has Sullivan’s for its gourmet spin on old Southern favorites.”
“Obviously I need to see this place
