Heartstrings (Brody Hotel Book 2) Page 7

  But . . . everyone needed to be needed a little bit, didn’t they?

  She shook her head. She was having too many deep thoughts at all at once, and it was giving her a headache. She hit the button and read the text.

  Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?

  She grinned. I’ve been dreaming about tortillas.

  Me too, especially after a day like today. Eight hours in court. Can I pick you up around five thirty?

  Oh, good. He wasn’t going to make her wait until late to eat. Perfect.

  I’ll see you then.

  There was a pause of about five seconds, and then he texted again. I’m really looking forward to it, Tabs.

  It was hard to tell a tone of voice from a text, but she could almost hear him saying the words, and it warmed her heart. I am too.

  All right—there was her answer. Tony. She was putting her attention and effort and energy into Tony. She and Griffin could move past the eternal hatred stage, but that’s as far as it could go. It wasn’t healthy to do anything else. She couldn’t go down the Griffin road—it was dark and unpaved and had too many twists and turns. Tony’s road was fast and exciting, but it also had signposts and bright lights, and she could see where she was going minute to minute even if she didn’t know where the road would end up.

  She pulled herself off the couch and went into her bedroom. It was time to decide what to wear on this date with Tony.

  ***

  Griffin didn’t sleep well that night. He stared at the ceiling and watched the lights of passing cars illuminate it, then fade. He kept thinking that he needed to get some blackout curtains, but he didn’t remember that during the day when the stores were open. He only thought about it in the middle of the night, when his brain was keeping him awake. He supposed he could order some online. He’d consider it.

  When his alarm went off, he’d only been asleep for a short time, but that was as good as it was going to get. He showered and ate a bagel, then reached for his phone. He knew Lillian McClain would be up and around—she always seemed to be available when he called, and he needed some motherly advice.

  “Hey, Lillian,” he said when she answered. “It’s Griffin.”

  “Of course it’s Griffin! I knew your voice as soon as you spoke. Besides, I have caller ID. How are you? You haven’t called for a while.”

  “Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy lately. But in a good way. I’ve been working on a remodel and expansion of an old hotel here in town.”

  “Oh, that sounds nice. I hope you’ll send pictures when it’s done.”

  “Sure. Hey . . . um . . . can I run something past you?” He swallowed.

  “Griffin, is something wrong?” She always knew. Even though she wasn’t his mother, her intuition still worked just fine on his behalf—and for every other boy who had spent time on the ranch. “Do you need to come home for a visit?”

  “That sounds great, actually, but I can’t leave just now.” He paused. “So, I met this man who does genealogy, and he also helps people hunt down their living relatives too. My boss . . . well, I’m making this story a lot longer than it needs to be. Basically, I have a chance to see about finding my birth parents. It’s not guaranteed, but at least there’s a possibility.”

  Lillian didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I thought your birth parents had completely disappeared,” she said at last.

  “Well, that’s why there’s no guarantee. This guy could start investigating and realize that there’s nothing to find. Or he might find something that no one else could.”

  “I see.” Another long pause. “I remember how badly you wanted to find your parents when you were a teenager, but around the time you turned seventeen, you seemed to give up on the idea.”

  “I did, and I’m pretty pleased with how my life has turned out. I’ve just always wondered, you know? I’ve been turning it over and over in my head, and I don’t know what to do. I mean, I’m doing well as I am—I’ve got a great career, good friends, and the craziest foster family ever.” Lillian laughed, and Griffin continued. “I could go on with my life never knowing about my birth parents and I’d be just fine. This isn’t a need.”

  “But you’re still asking yourself about it,” Lillian pointed out.

  “Yeah, I am. I don’t know what to do.”

  “And you’re hoping I’ll tell you?”

  “Yeah, that would be nice. Knowing you, though, you won’t. You’ll just say something wise and thought-provoking and probably confusing, and make me figure it out for myself.”

  “What? Do I do that?” Lillian chuckled. “Okay, yes, I do that. But if I gave you the answers outright, you wouldn’t learn anything from them, would you?”

  “Guess not.” Griffin rubbed the stubble on his chin. It itched in the summer, but it also kept his face from getting sunburned when he worked outside.

  “Here’s what I think, Griffin. I think you’ve grown up to be a wonderful man. You’ve taken the hardships of your past and turned them into unique character traits. I’m overjoyed to say that you’re one of our boys. You make the ranch look good.”

  Griffin laughed. “Why, thank you.”

  “I’m not finished. I see you as being a complete person, but the fact that you’re struggling with this question tells me that you still want to know. If you didn’t have any curiosity left, if you weren’t still wondering, you would have known it right away and you wouldn’t be going back and forth like this. It would be a straightforward no. I think you should give it a try, if for no other reason than to quiet the nagging voices deep inside you.”

  Griffin nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re right. How are you always right?”

  “It’s a Mom thing. I do have one concern, though. You might not like what you discover, and you need to be prepared to accept that without internalizing it. Who your parents are doesn’t automatically impact who you are. Your life can be different from theirs.”

  “You sound like you might know something,” Griffin said slowly. “Do you?”

  “No. I’m just looking at the worst-case scenario. You’re my boy, Griffin. I don’t want you hurt.”

  Griffin smiled. She called all the boys “her boys,” but she meant it in each and every case. “Thanks, Lillian. I’ll keep that in mind, and it’s not like I have to follow through and contact them. If I find out they’re in jail or something, I don’t have to visit them. I’m just hoping . . . well, I’m hoping they were just young and naïve, and didn’t feel that they could take care of a baby.”

  “And that’s what I’m hoping too. That is the case, more often than not. A great many birth parents are overwhelmed and feel insecure, and they’re trying to give their child a better life. It’s just my overprotective nature influencing my imagination.”

  “So, you think I should do this?” For some reason, hearing her say it again was important to him.

  “Yes, I do. I think you’d always wonder if you didn’t. But those are just my thoughts—you need to decide for yourself.”

  Typical Lillian. “Thanks. I think I’m going to do it, but I’ll sleep on it one more night . . . or not sleep on it, as the case may be.”

  “Griffin, before you go, there’s something else.”

  “Yeah?” Her voice sounded serious. He hoped nothing was wrong.

  “We were talking over the dinner table the other night, and your name came up.”

  “Really? You guys don’t have anything better to do than talking about me?”

  “You’re the source of all our entertainment. There is nothing to talk about besides you. Now, hush up and let me say this. We’ve felt for a long time that if you had an investor, you’d be able to expand your business, and we know that you’d make a great success of it. We have some money tucked away, and we’d very much like to talk to you about investing in your company.”

  Griffin nearly dropped the phone. “I’m sorry—did you say you want to invest?”

  “Yes,
we do. It’s a thought we’ve had over and over again for the last couple of years, and I apologize that it’s taken us this long to talk to you about it. I think we wanted to see if it really was a good idea or just one of those passing fancies, you know? But the whole family is agreed—we’d like to invest.”

  “I . . . I really don’t know what to say,” Griffin replied. He reached out for a kitchen chair and sat down. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about opening a construction arm of my business so I’m actually building what I’m designing, but that’s super pricy. There’s no way you’d be able to invest that much.”

  “You might be surprised,” she said. “We’ve had some family money floating around for a while, and it’s been building up interest. If you let us invest, that allows us to provide for the ranch even better in the future as your company grows.”

  “But if my company flops . . .” Griffin protested.

  “It’s not going to flop. Let’s say, my husband really feels that you’re going to be successful,” Lillian replied.

  Griffin had to think about that for a second. Peter McClain, the head of this clan, had a sixth sense about things. He laughed it off when he was asked about it and just called himself lucky, but Griffin had noticed that time and again, little comments he’d make actually came to pass. If Peter said his business would be successful, that gave him a little more courage to push ahead with it. But still, that was a lot of money.

  “Let me sleep on that too, okay?” he said. “I can’t imagine putting any of your money at risk.”

  “I’m telling you, this is a risk we’re willing to take, and we won’t regret it,” Lillian replied. “But yes, sleep on it. You need to feel comfortable with this decision.”

  “Thank you. I honestly can’t believe that you’d do something like this for me—it blows my mind.”

  “We love you,” she said simply.

  He swallowed hard. “I love you too.”

  After he said his goodbyes, Griffin stared at the phone for a long time. The McClains had given him everything he had now, either directly or indirectly. They had taught him how to work, how to be successful. And now they wanted to invest in his dream . . . It was incredible. It was almost completely unbelievable.

  Funny how life had taken away his birth parents, but given him a chance with a different family, one who loved him the way he’d always wished his birth parents had. But then again, he reminded himself, maybe they did love him. Maybe they just couldn’t take care of him.

  So many thoughts . . . so much swirling around in his head.

  He went outside, climbed in his truck, and cranked the music. He needed to go find a long country road to drive to get the bees in his brain to settle down. Being indoors was making him feel claustrophobic.

  Chapter Nine

  Tony showed up at Tabs’ front door wearing a nice shirt and jacket, no tie, and she was glad that she’d chosen a casual dress. After showing up at the Golden Pearl in jeans, she wanted to make a good impression, so she’d gone with heeled sandals and her hair up in a clip, and this time, she felt like she’d fit in no matter where they went. Tony had said tortillas, but he hadn’t said whether they were going to a roadside taco truck or flying to Mexico. That was part of the fun—it really could be either.

  He took her to a restaurant down a quiet street. She probably never would have known it existed just by driving past. “How did you hear about this place?” she asked as he parked the car.

  “A client suggested it to me. He said he brings his wife here at least once a month.” Tony came around and opened her door for her. “Are you ready to have the best tortillas of your life?”

  “Have you been here yet? Do you know they’re the best?”

  “I tried them about two weeks ago, and yes. I’m very confident about this.”

  “All right, then. Let’s do it.”

  They were shown to their table by a young woman in dangerously high platform heels, who seemed to keep her balance just fine on the terra cotta tiles, although Tabs worried about her the whole way. Once seated, Tabs looked around. The atmosphere was charming—serapes hung from the walls, bottles of tequila lined the narrow shelves that hung two feet below the ceiling, and a man with a Spanish guitar was playing on a small stage in the corner.

  “What looks good to you?” Tony asked, nodding toward the menu.

  “Oh, that’s tough.” She scanned the selections, but they all sounded wonderful. “I think I’ll go with the carnitas enchiladas.”

  “You said that very well,” Tony said with a smile.

  “A year of high school Spanish. I don’t remember much, but I can tell you what color the telephone is.”

  “That could come in handy someday. You never know.”

  When the waitress came around, Tony placed their orders, and asked for extra tortillas. Tabs was trying to stay present in the moment, but she was finding it difficult because her brain kept flipping back to her conversation with Griffin the day before, and she wondered if he’d made up his mind yet.

  “So, the upstairs floors at the hotel are done?” Tony asked, and she blinked.

  “Oh, yes. They put the final coat on today, and now everything will dry. Then we can move in the furniture.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. I’ve looked at the designs, but seeing it in person will be entirely different.”

  “Marissa’s vision for those upstairs rooms is really phenomenal. People will come from all over to stay at the Brody.”

  Tony regarded her curiously. “You say ‘Marissa’s vision,’ like you weren’t really part of it, but I get the feeling that you’re a lot more valuable to Marissa than you let on.”

  Tabs felt her cheeks get warm. “I throw in my two cents from time to time, but I’m basically content to support her in the things that need to be done. She points me in a direction, and I go.”

  “So, you’ve never done any jobs by yourself?”

  Tabs took a sip of water, trying to cool herself down. “Yeah, I did once . . . that was the job where things went really wrong between me and Griffin. But hey, I met Rob and his crew and we ended up good friends, so it wasn’t a total waste of time.”

  “And then you came back to working with Marissa exclusively?”

  “I realized that I like teamwork more than I like being solo. And if I share an idea, she listens, and almost always incorporates it.”

  “And you keep her pointed in the right direction too. I’ve seen you keep her on track a time or two.”

  “It’s something we do for each other.” Tabs lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if you’re just asking questions or if you have some sort of motive behind all this.”

  “No motive. I’m just trying to figure out what makes you tick. Money’s not a motivator, you’re not driven to be in the front of the pack—what does motivate you? What are your hot buttons?”

  Tabs had to think about that for a minute. “I want to succeed, but I want everyone else to do well too,” she said at last. “I don’t enjoy moving ahead if that means leaving my friends behind. If I’m going to climb a mountain and reach a summit, I want my friends there at my side.”

  The waiter brought their food, and Tabs pounced on a tortilla as soon as it was placed on the table. “Oh, wow,” she said after taking a bite and swallowing. “Okay, I’m in love. Just total love. Get the preacher—I’m marrying this tortilla. Is there a waiting period in Kansas?”

  “Three days,” Tony said with a smile.

  “Fine—I’ll eat tortillas while I wait.”

  He laughed. “I’m glad you like them. I probably ate four when I was here last week—all by myself. Plus my burrito, which was wrapped in another tortilla. It made me feel close to my grandmother again.”

  Everything on the table tasted incredible, and Tabs found herself rocking slightly from side to side as she ate. She couldn’t help it—she was enjoying her meal so much that it was hard to hold still. She glanced up to see Tony smiling at her indulgently.


  “What? I’m happy. I move around when I’m happy.”

  “No, I’m not laughing at you. I like it. You don’t hide your emotions. You’re very open with them—it’s refreshing.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She was going to say that yes, she did hide her emotions, but the first example that came to mind was Griffin, and it wasn’t cool to bring up another guy while you were on a date, especially when she’d already mentioned him once and thought about him twice, and good grief, why did he keep interrupting this very nice date?

  Instead, she just gave a little shrug, which could be interpreted as agreement or disagreement. A nice and vague reply when she didn’t want to open up and spill her guts out.

  After they finished their amazing dinner and shared a piece of cake swirled with dulce de leche, they left Tony’s car parked in the lot and took a walk. They were far enough away from the busy part of town that they could hear each other talk, and there were enough streetlights to guide their way.

  “I’m making a list of all the things I’ve discovered about you, and it’s a pretty impressive list,” Tony said as they passed by a small music store. Tabs could hear a soft rock love song being played inside, and it created an almost corny backdrop to their conversation until they were out of earshot. “You find your greatest joys in friendship and in people. I find that admirable.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. It could be that I’m horribly insecure and hate to be alone.”

  “You might not like being alone, but you’re not insecure. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve met in a long time, but you’re strong without being so independent that you can’t make room for anyone else in your life. It’s just the opposite. You make room for everyone.”

  Now Tabs’ face really was burning. “When did this become Compliment Tabs Until She Blushes Day?” she asked, still trying to deflect with humor. She’d love to change the subject—he wasn’t embarrassing her, really, but he was coming really close to it. She preferred praise in smaller doses.