“Unpacked and settled?” she asked. “Do you need anything?”
Robyn kissed her cheek, then took a seat across from Mason. “Just your love and your company.”
“You have both.”
“Good.” Robyn smiled at her. “I’ve apologized to Mason for my behavior, and now I apologize to you. I was rude and difficult.”
Lillian waved a hand. “All forgiven and forgotten.” She picked up her glass. “Mason made me a cocktail.”
“Would you like one?” Mason asked.
“I’ll wait for dinner and that bottle of wine we’re splitting.”
Mason nodded and settled back in his seat.
“Did you talk to the children?” Lillian asked Robyn.
“I texted with Austin. He’s doing well. Harlow and I still aren’t speaking right now.”
“That girl,” Lillian murmured. “She’s being difficult.”
“She would say it’s my fault for not supporting her wedding.”
“She’s too young to be getting married. In my day, it’s what a woman did, but now there are so many options.”
“I agree,” Robyn said lightly, knowing she’d ignored her options and only had herself to blame for the outcome.
The large French doors were open, allowing the ocean breeze to flutter through the room. Sunset was an hour away, but the sky had already taken on a deeper shade of blue.
“It’s going to be a pretty one tonight,” she said.
“Yes, it is.” Lillian smiled. “My favorite time of day, even if I do miss Leo.” She turned to Mason. “We were always together for the sunset. It was, as you young people like to say, our thing.”
“It’s good to have a thing,” he said.
Robyn glanced at him. “Are you here for vacation or something longer?” She did her best to keep her tone friendly so no one would think she was having another meltdown.
“Mason’s here for the duration,” Lillian told her. “He’s a writer.”
“Oh. What do you write?”
Mason looked more uncomfortable than pleased with the change in topic. “I’m not a writer. Not the way you’re thinking.”
“He’s published books,” Lillian said proudly.
Mason shrugged. “I’ve written a couple of nonfiction books on obscure historical battles. It’s a hobby of mine. Until two years ago, I was in the army for twenty-five years.”
“A military man,” Robyn said, surprised by the information. “So you could straighten out my kids in eighteen seconds.”
“I doubt there’s anything wrong with them.”
She grinned. “Then you would be mistaken.”
Their eyes met. His were dark—mostly unreadable but with a hint of humor. His career explained his air of confidence. He looked like he could handle any situation, and that was probably true.
“I’ve been trying to convince him to go through Leo’s papers,” Lillian said. “Robyn, my dear, tell him he must.”
“You must. Especially if you enjoy history. You know Uncle Leo was a professor at UC Santa Barbara.”
“Lillian mentioned it.”
“He loved his work and research. There are boxes and boxes of I have no idea what. I know there’s source material.” She smiled. “You might find something that inspires you.”
For a moment nearly too brief to measure, his gaze sharpened, before returning to normal.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he said.
Lillian looked at Robyn, who turned to him. “Please, intrude. I’m happy to deal with everything in the house, except for Leo’s papers. They’re not my thing. Maybe they’re yours.”
He nodded. “You knew him?”
“Yes.” Robyn reached for Lillian’s hand. “I was born in the area and lived around here until I was fourteen. My mother passed away when I was eleven. My father was devastated and unable to cope, so he dropped me off with Lillian and Leo. It was supposed to be for a few weeks, but I ended up staying almost four years.”
“Those were the best years,” Lillian told her.
“I agree.” Robyn turned back to Mason. “My father was a charter boat captain. He eventually settled in Naples, Florida, and sent for me.”
Mason glanced around the room. “It’s a beautiful place to grow up.”
“It is. The house was never boring.”
They chatted for a few more minutes. Then Salvia called them in to dinner. Mason helped Lillian to her feet, and offered his arm. Robyn followed them to the massive dining room with the table that, when extended, could seat twenty-four.
Tonight it was just the three of them, clustered at one end. Salvia had already opened the bottle of wine Robyn had brought Mason.
Once Lillian was seated, Mason moved to Robyn’s chair and held it out. Before she sat down, she leaned toward him.
“I really am sorry about before. You’ve now seen me at my worst. It only gets better from here.”
His dark gaze locked with hers. “If that was you at your worst, then we have nothing to worry about.”
She took her seat. When he settled across from her, they looked at each other and smiled. It was the kind of smile that spoke of shared secrets and an intimacy that comes from familiarity and trust.
How odd, she thought. She barely knew the man. She shouldn’t feel connected to him. Or attracted.
Jet lag, she told herself firmly. She’d been up since predawn to catch her flight to LAX, and then she’d had the drive. There was nothing between her and Mason—she was just a little tired.
* * *
Harlow left for work early so she could swing by her mom’s house. They hadn’t spoken in nearly a week—probably the longest they’d ever gone without some kind of contact. At first she’d expected her mom to get in touch with her, but she’d been silent. As time had passed, Harlow had started to think more and more about the conversation. Unfortunately, the more she replayed what she’d said, the more uncomfortable she became.
As she drove the familiar route, she thought maybe she’d been wrong to insist her mother keep the house. She supposed there was a possibility that it was kind of expensive—a point Kip had made. Waterfront in Naples didn’t come cheap. Given that her mom didn’t really work and the buyout from her dad came in monthly payments, Harlow supposed it was possible that her mother qualifying for a home loan on her own was unlikely.