Page 63 of On the Rocks
“Yeah,” I finally managed. “Exactly like that.”
“My dad hated it, too,” she said, dragging her index finger in a heart shape over the sand before she erased it with her palm. “He said Patrick was tarnishing the brand, taking out all the honesty and down-home history that made the whiskey special. He said Patrick was going too mainstream, trying to be something Scooter Whiskey wasn’t.”
“That’s how my dad felt, too. And he had all these ideas about how to keep the same traditions, but liven up the brand, too. He was smart. He had research and industry surveys. He knew what he was talking about.”
“But Patrick wouldn’t listen.”
I nodded. “He seems to still have that problem.”
Ruby Grace watched me for a long moment, her fingers paused in their current doodle in the sand. “The fire your dad died in… your family doesn’t believe it was an accident, do they?”
I swallowed, watching a boat in the distance as I tried to figure out how to respond. The answer was easy — no, we didn’t believe it was an accident. But, admitting that was admitting that we had conjured some conspiracy theory, that we thought the Scooters were crooked, that someone had it out for our dad. It was essentially admitting insanity, and I didn’t want to do that — especially when Mom’s reputation and heart was on the line.
“We believe there’s a lot we don’t know about that day,” I decided on, and before she could respond, I changed the subject to her. “What’syourdad like? It had to be kind of hard, growing up as the Mayor’s daughter.”
A sarcastic smile spread over Ruby Grace’s face, and she rolled, splaying out on her back with her eyes on the sky above. “Let’s just say my dad felt more like a fatherfigurethan he ever did a father.”
I frowned. “Wasn’t around much, I take it.”
She shook her head, eyes tracing the clouds. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great dad to me and my sister. He provides for us, tells us how proud he is of us and how much he loves us. He’s like me in a way that Mom and Mary Anne don’t understand. He gets it when I need to hide away, when my anxiety spikes in a crowd. And if Mom ever needs help with parenting, he steps in, no questions asked. He helped me with my college application and essay, told me he would support me no matter what I decided to major in. And thanks to him, I’ve got the best golf game of any woman in Stratford, I’d bet.”
She paused, regaling hisgreat dadqualities like there was some list and as long as he had checked those boxes, she couldn’t say otherwise.
“But,” she continued. “Sometimes it just felt like he was this mostly silent bystander and Mom was both parents. Dad’srealkid is this town, and everything that goes along with nurturing it. That’s where his time goes. That’s where his energy is spent.” She chuckled. “Well, that and the casino or any gambling event he can con the council members into.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“No,” she answered quickly, biting her bottom lip before releasing it again. “I understand it, feeling so passionate about something that you’d want to dedicate your life to it. He really looked up to Grandpa, too, and I think he always wanted to take his place. This is just what makes him happy. And I love him, I want him happy.” She rolled onto her side again. “Now, do I wish we had more time together growing up? Sure. But, I get him. And he gets me. At least, for the most part.”
“For the most part,” I mused. “Meaning, he probably wouldn’t be cool with you going back to college after the wedding either.”
A shadow passed over her face, and I internally cursed at myself, knowing I’d crossed over in the territory that always made her clam up and run away. She didn’t like talking aboutherdreams, about sacrificing those for her soon-to-be husband.
And it seemed to be my favorite button to push.
I was surprised when she didn’t yell at me or tell me to mind my own business as she stormed across the beach and away from me. Instead, she let out a long breath, eyes falling to the blanket we sat on before they found mine again. “I’m sure he wouldn’t exactly be thrilled, no. But, it’s more Mama than it is him. She knows what it takes to be a politician’s wife, and she’s been more than open with me about it.”
“What exactly does it take?”
She shrugged. “Selflessness. Passion. Love and understanding that I won’t always be the priority in his life. But, that was part of the reason I was so attracted to Anthony when we first met. He knows what he wants, and he’s driven, and smart. I love that about him.”
My chest tightened the more she talked about him. It was the first time she’d said it — that she loved him — where I actually believed it was true.
I hated it.
“I think it’s amazing that you found a man like that,” I finally offered, swallowing my pride like a jagged pill. “I really do. But, and I don’t mean to say anything out of line, but I wonder if he wouldn’t supportyouthe same — if you told him you wanted to go back to school or volunteer with AmeriCorps. You could be there for him and still be there for yourself, too.”
Ruby Grace nodded, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah. I suppose.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Another nod.
“If you could look twenty years down the road on a blissfully perfect day in your future life, what would it look like?”
She smiled, finally looking at me again. Her eyes were filled with wonder and curiosity, like I was some project she was assigned to but didn’t know where to start.
“Hmmm…” she said, lying back again. She crossed her long legs, folding her hands over her bare navel as she watched the clouds. “It would be Sunday. After church. I’d have a huge, delicious supper spread, the table set for a family of five. My three kids would be out in the yard playing, and as I watched them from the kitchen window, my husband would come up behind me, wrap his arms around me, and ask me to dance.”