The Millionaire Next Door. Kara Lennox
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my patients need me. They need someone to fix their hearts.”
“But maybe my heart needs fixing.”
“I hope not. Not ever.”
“But it hurts sometimes.”
The backs of Hudson’s eyes burned. “Everyone’s heart hurts sometimes. When you feel like yours is hurting, you just call me and I’ll do my best to fix it.”
“It hurts now.”
“Why does it hurt, sweetie?”
“Because Shiny doesn’t have a good house.” And because Amanda had disappointed her. He might not be too experienced with this daddy business, but he could read between the lines.
He took her hand and led her toward the ladder that went to the loft. “Tomorrow we’re gonna build Shiny the best aquarium in all of Texas.”
“Will Amanda help?”
Hudson tamped down his frustration. Bethany barely knew Amanda. Why this sudden attachment? “We’ll ask her. But if she can’t, then just you and me, okay?”
“Okay,” she said grudgingly.
With a bit more coaxing, he got her into bed. Then he sat on the back deck, smoking his last cigarette and watching for Amanda. It really was his last cigarette, he promised himself. Although he wasn’t exactly a heavy smoker—he’d taken a week to get through this last pack—the blood-pressure thing was scaring him. Smoking was one thing he could control.
Since he had time to kill, and he was already in a bad mood, he checked the messages on his cell. It was pretty much as he’d feared.
“Hudson, this is your mother. Call me immediately. I need some investment advice….”
“Hudson, it’s Janey. I need to know for sure whether you’re going to the fund-raiser Friday. Call me.”
“Hudson, it’s your mother. Just what in heaven’s name does that message on your voice mail mean? Unavailable? How do you expect people to get in touch with you?”
“Hudson, it’s Janey. I’m getting a little miffed over your lack of communication. I have to make some decisions, and I can’t without your input. Honestly…”
“Hudson, this is your mother. If you don’t call me in the next thirty minutes, I’m calling the police. I’m afraid some chainsaw serial killer has found you.”
Reluctantly he called his mother. He nearly jumped for joy when he reached her answering machine. “Mother, it’s Hudson. I’m fine, Bethany’s fine. Our vacation is going well. I’ll speak with you when I get back.” He disconnected as quickly as he could, in case she was home and screening her calls.
Janey wouldn’t be so easy. He called her cell, hoping to get her voice mail. But she answered immediately, though it was after eleven Boston time. “Hudson, thank God. Where are you?”
“I’m on vacation with Bethany. Didn’t I tell you…?”
“You know perfectly well you didn’t tell me. If you’d let me know, I could have cleared my schedule and gone with you. Are you at your mother’s place in Martha’s Vineyard? I could join you there in a couple of days.”
“No!” That was all he needed. He would never relax with Janey around managing his social schedule. “I mean, um, I’m doing a little father-daughter bonding.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet! Where are you?”
“Someplace you’ve never heard of, I guarantee.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t really know. I’ll call back when my plans are firmed up.”
“Hudson, this is so unlike you. You never do anything impulsive. Now, I want you to tell me where you are.”
He didn’t care for her demanding tone. If he married her, he’d probably hear more of it, he realized. “I have to go, um, the stove’s boiling over.”
“The stove? You’ve never been near a stove in your life!”
“I’ll talk to you later,” he said with mock cheerfulness. “Bye!” He hung up on her sputtered objections, then quickly turned off his phone.
Amanda’s car finally pulled into the drive at ten forty-five. No one worked that late, not even Hudson. It occurred to him that she might have a social life. She might have been enjoying dinner with a date, or happy hour with some girlfriends. But if she’d made plans for after work, she should have told Bethany up-front that she couldn’t help with Shiny’s home today. And if the plans had been spur-of-the-moment, then she’d needlessly broken her word to his daughter.
And he wasn’t going to let that pass without comment.
WHEN AMANDA SAW the mess her house was in, her blood flashed through her veins like heat lightning. For heaven’s sake, couldn’t Mick make even the smallest effort to clean up after himself? Dirty dishes from what looked like breakfast and lunch littered the kitchen. The mail had been strewn about the living room, items of interest opened and left where they fell. Cushions had been pulled off the couch in front of the TV. Dirty clothes carpeted the bathroom floor.
How had she let herself become Mick’s maid? When her father had died three years ago, she’d naturally been sad, but she’d also been relieved to be free of the burden of taking care of him. Especially the last few years, he hadn’t been able to drive or cook or do his own laundry, so she’d done those things for him, recycling the empty beer cans without comment. She’d known that by then it was too late to change him. Back then, Mick had lived with their father, and while he hadn’t exactly helped, he’d been in high school, so she’d let him get away with a lot.
Then they’d sold her dad’s house, which the bank was about to foreclose on anyway, and Mick had moved in with her so he could go to college. But in all this time he’d made little progress toward a degree, and he’d become increasingly irresponsible and decadent. She feared his drinking was to blame, though he at least had the consideration not to drink in front of her.
She wished she had the courage to just leave his messes. How would he like it if the house just turned into a pigsty?
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