“Think we ought to have a man’s night out at my club and get to the bottom of things?”
“I think if we try, Dad will just clam up or tell us to mind our own damned business.”
Brandon grinned. “Never let that stop me before. No need to stop now. You free tonight?”
“Not really,” he began, then caught sight of the expression on his grandfather’s face. He forgot all too often how lonely things must be for his grandfather since his wife of nearly fifty years, Jason’s grandmother, had died in the spring. Though Brandon put on a good front most of the time, there were times, like now, when his sorrow was unmistakable.
“Tonight would be great, if we can make it early.”
“Early is best for me, too,” Brandon said. “Say six-thirty. You tell your father. Hog-tie him if you have to.”
Jason chuckled at the idea of making Kevin Halloran do anything he’d set his mind against. Of all of them, his father was the most stubborn. “I’ll do my best,” he said.
It looked to Jason as if his entire evening was likely to be spent with men who, with the exception of his grandfather, weren’t particularly interested in sharing his company.
Chapter Eight
Dinner was not a success. Kevin Halloran maintained a stoic silence throughout the meal, responding to questions in terse monosyllables whenever he could get away with it. He barely touched his prime rib, but steadily sipped the cabernet sauvignon. Jason’s frustration matched that of his grandfather’s tone when Brandon finally snapped, “Son, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Raking his hand through blond hair shot with silver, Kevin glared at his father. “Nothing I care to talk about.”
“Well, you’ve made that clear enough. Since when can’t you open up with family?”
His expression utterly exhausted, Kevin rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Dad, please. Drop it. Let’s talk about anything else—the weather, sports—I don’t give a damn. Just leave my state of mind out of the conversation.”
“Granddad’s just worried about you,” Jason reminded him. “So am I. You’ve been like this for weeks now. Are you feeling okay? Have you seen a doctor lately?”
Kevin threw down his napkin and shoved his chair back. “If I’d wanted to be psychoanalyzed, I could have gone home,” he snapped. As if horrified by what he’d revealed as well as the uncharacteristic display of raw anger, he mumbled, “I’m sorry, Dad. Jason. I have things to do. I’ll see you both at the office tomorrow.”
He stalked off, leaving Jason and Brandon to stare at each other in open-mouthed astonishment.
“What do you suppose that was all about?” Brandon said finally. “Kevin’s not a man to lose control.”
“You don’t suppose he and Mom are really having problems, do you? That crack about being psychoanalyzed at home sounded pretty bitter.”
Jason had never been more shaken. The thought that his parents’ marriage might be in serious trouble threw him for a loop. He’d always viewed them as a perfect example of marital harmony. They’d been married nearly thirty years, had known each other since childhood. When he’d been growing up, his home had been filled with laughter and genuine affection. He’d considered himself one of the luckiest kids around. Had something gone terribly wrong in these last two months, something that in his absorption with his own life he had failed to notice?
“Damned if I know what to think,” Brandon responded, his expression bewildered. “I do know that it won’t do us a bit of good to try to pry any more information out of him, while he’s in this mood. Your father’s a proud man. Never was one to share his problems. Never did like anyone to catch him down.”
Brandon suddenly looked weary, every one of his sixty-eight years showing. “Guess I made a mistake in pressing for answers.”
“You were just trying to help. We both were.”
“Maybe so, but I should have known better. It looks like we just made things worse.”
“I’ll talk to Mom,” Jason promised. “Maybe she’ll tell me what’s going on.”
Brandon sighed. “I wish I were closer to your mother. She’s a good woman.”
Jason stared at him in astonishment. “I’ve always thought the two of you got along just fine.”
“We’ve done pretty well at maintaining a truce, but there was a time when she didn’t owe me the time of day. I suspect you know I tried to keep your father away from her. It’s one of my real regrets.”
Jason had heard bits of the story before. He knew that Lacey Grainger Halloran had long since forgiven his grandfather for his interference, that family had always been every bit as important to her as it was to his grandfather and she’d worked hard at mending fences. He’d always thought his grandfather recognized that bond.
“Granddad, she doesn’t hold that against you. Not after all this time.”
“Wouldn’t blame her if she did.” He met Jason’s gaze. “You run along. I know you have plans.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I think I’ll stay here and have a brandy. I saw some of my friends go into the card room a while back. Maybe I’ll join them. Haven’t played bridge since your grandmother died.”
Jason felt torn. He didn’t want to leave his grandfather alone when he was in this strange melancholy mood, but he didn’t dare cancel the plans with Sammy, either. The idea of asking his grandfather along crossed his mind, but he dismissed it at once. If his grandfather had tried to keep his father and a woman as sweet as Lacey Grainger apart, who knew what he would do if he met Sammy while he was at his rebellious worst. It might forever change the way he felt toward Dana and, for some reason he couldn’t entirely explain, Jason didn’t want that to happen.
He squeezed his grandfather’s shoulder. “Try not to worry. Dad will be okay.”
Brandon placed a hand over his. “At my age worrying about family just comes naturally.”
As Jason drove across town to
