sounded
relieved to have a reason to move.
“Not yet.” Bodine’s hand touched her elbow, staying her. “Here’s your mamma now.”
The woman who approached had Georgia’s dark brown hair and brown eyes, but there the resemblance ended. While Georgia’s hair dropped to her shoulders in unruly ringlets, her mother’s was cut in a sleek, chin-length style. In contrast to her daughter’s jeans and T-shirt, Mrs. Bodine wore silky white pants and a blouse, a sweater slung around her shoulders like a cape. She had the smooth elegance so many Southern women seemed born with.
Ignoring him, she touched her daughter’s hair with a manicured fingernail. “Really, Georgia Lee.” The soft drawl was gently chiding. “Let me make an appointment for you with my stylist while you’re here. They must not know how to cut hair up there in Atlanta.”
“It’s fine, Mamma.” Georgia pulled away, as she’d
probably been doing since she was a teenager. “I didn’t expect to see y’all here.”
“We wouldn’t miss the ice cream and cake social,” her mother said, voice as silky as her blouse. “Come on, now, let’s go find Miz Callie.”
She turned away without even looking at him. As a cut, it was masterful.
“Mamma, have you met Miz Callie’s attorney?” Georgia displayed unexpected steel. “This is Matthew Harper. Matt, my mother, Delia Bodine.”
The woman shot Georgia an outraged stare before nodding coolly. “Mr. Harper. Now, what was it you’re attending to for my mother-in-law?”
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss a client’s business,” he said, careful to keep his tone pleasant. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my daughter.”
Georgia meant well, he supposed, but there didn’t seem to be any value in prolonging a conversation with her parents. Overcoming their antagonism was an impossible task.
He turned to scan the area, expecting to see Lindsay still on the swings. But she was sitting at a picnic table next to Miz Callie.
Suppressing a totally unreasonable surge of annoyance, he headed for them. He’d retrieve Lindsay, move to another table, and try to enjoy the evening without thinking about the inimical gazes directed at him.
As it turned out, Miz Callie had other ideas. She greeted him with a wide smile and a sweep of her hand to the bench. “Come, sit down. We’ve been saving a place for you.”
“I think Lindsay and I should find a table of our own, since your son and his wife are joining you.” He rested his hand on Lindsay’s shoulder.
She pulled away, shaking her head. “Miz Callie said we could sit with her.”
“That’s right.” She waved to the Bodines, gesturing to the benches. “Come on, everyone sit down. Lindsay and I picked the best table here in the shade.”
Short of being rude, there was nothing he could do. Apparently Georgia’s parents felt the same, and in a moment they were all seated around the picnic table.
Spanish moss, drifting in the breeze, made moving shadows on Georgia’s face as she leaned over to hand out cups of ice cream. When she slid one to Lindsay, his daughter shoved it away.
“I don’t want chocolate.”
“Lindsay, that’s your favorite.” Her comment was impolite, but he didn’t want to scold her in front of other people.
Her lips tightened for a moment. Then she took the ice cream. “Thank you,” she muttered.
Miz Callie diverted attention with a comment about the turnout, Georgia’s father responded and the talk became general.
Matt glanced at his child under cover of the conversation. Lindsay was snuggled close to Miz Callie, almost deliberately ignoring the others.
What was that all about? That too-familiar helpless feeling rolled over him. Jennifer had been the one to handle everything where their daughter was concerned, and he’d been so busy getting his career going that he’d let her. Even then, he’d sometimes felt a little envious of their close bond. Now…now too often he felt adrift,
relieved to have a reason to move.
“Not yet.” Bodine’s hand touched her elbow, staying her. “Here’s your mamma now.”
The woman who approached had Georgia’s dark brown hair and brown eyes, but there the resemblance ended. While Georgia’s hair dropped to her shoulders in unruly ringlets, her mother’s was cut in a sleek, chin-length style. In contrast to her daughter’s jeans and T-shirt, Mrs. Bodine wore silky white pants and a blouse, a sweater slung around her shoulders like a cape. She had the smooth elegance so many Southern women seemed born with.
Ignoring him, she touched her daughter’s hair with a manicured fingernail. “Really, Georgia Lee.” The soft drawl was gently chiding. “Let me make an appointment for you with my stylist while you’re here. They must not know how to cut hair up there in Atlanta.”
“It’s fine, Mamma.” Georgia pulled away, as she’d
probably been doing since she was a teenager. “I didn’t expect to see y’all here.”
“We wouldn’t miss the ice cream and cake social,” her mother said, voice as silky as her blouse. “Come on, now, let’s go find Miz Callie.”
She turned away without even looking at him. As a cut, it was masterful.
“Mamma, have you met Miz Callie’s attorney?” Georgia displayed unexpected steel. “This is Matthew Harper. Matt, my mother, Delia Bodine.”
The woman shot Georgia an outraged stare before nodding coolly. “Mr. Harper. Now, what was it you’re attending to for my mother-in-law?”
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss a client’s business,” he said, careful to keep his tone pleasant. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my daughter.”
Georgia meant well, he supposed, but there didn’t seem to be any value in prolonging a conversation with her parents. Overcoming their antagonism was an impossible task.
He turned to scan the area, expecting to see Lindsay still on the swings. But she was sitting at a picnic table next to Miz Callie.
Suppressing a totally unreasonable surge of annoyance, he headed for them. He’d retrieve Lindsay, move to another table, and try to enjoy the evening without thinking about the inimical gazes directed at him.
As it turned out, Miz Callie had other ideas. She greeted him with a wide smile and a sweep of her hand to the bench. “Come, sit down. We’ve been saving a place for you.”
“I think Lindsay and I should find a table of our own, since your son and his wife are joining you.” He rested his hand on Lindsay’s shoulder.
She pulled away, shaking her head. “Miz Callie said we could sit with her.”
“That’s right.” She waved to the Bodines, gesturing to the benches. “Come on, everyone sit down. Lindsay and I picked the best table here in the shade.”
Short of being rude, there was nothing he could do. Apparently Georgia’s parents felt the same, and in a moment they were all seated around the picnic table.
Spanish moss, drifting in the breeze, made moving shadows on Georgia’s face as she leaned over to hand out cups of ice cream. When she slid one to Lindsay, his daughter shoved it away.
“I don’t want chocolate.”
“Lindsay, that’s your favorite.” Her comment was impolite, but he didn’t want to scold her in front of other people.
Her lips tightened for a moment. Then she took the ice cream. “Thank you,” she muttered.
Miz Callie diverted attention with a comment about the turnout, Georgia’s father responded and the talk became general.
Matt glanced at his child under cover of the conversation. Lindsay was snuggled close to Miz Callie, almost deliberately ignoring the others.
What was that all about? That too-familiar helpless feeling rolled over him. Jennifer had been the one to handle everything where their daughter was concerned, and he’d been so busy getting his career going that he’d let her. Even then, he’d sometimes felt a little envious of their close bond. Now…now too often he felt adrift,
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