Robyn unpacked a few more plates. “Not great. Harlow’s mad at me.”
“That’s hardly new. She can be, um, difficult. Or is demanding a better word?”
Robyn laughed. “Either works. I mentioned selling the house, and she went off. She thinks I should take out a loan to pay off her father and keep the house until she gets married. Apparently she’s set on a backyard wedding, and I’m the bitch in the way of that.”
“Would you qualify for a loan on your own?” Mindy asked. “You work here, but it’s only part-time.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to anyone.”
Robyn had savings and monthly income from Cord buying her out of the business, but Mindy was right about her job. It was only a few hours a week and didn’t pay all that much. What if she didn’t qualify for a loan? While it would solve her Harlow problem, it would not be happy news. Her plan for the new house was to buy something smaller, and not on the water, so the price would be significantly less. She was hoping to just pay cash with her half of what she got from selling her current place.
“Maybe I’ll talk to Payne about buying your place,” Mindy said. “We’ve discussed getting a bigger house, and yours is beautiful. The view alone is a stunner.”
“You’re welcome to bring him over to walk through anytime,” she said, rather than point out that buying a new house with her husband while planning to have sex with her tennis instructor seemed ill-advised.
Robyn’s discussion with Mindy—the one about whether she would qualify for a loan—replayed in her mind as she drove home. The reality of it was startling.
When she and Cord had first married, they’d started the charter business together. She’d worked side by side with him, taking out one of the two boats they owned every single day. She’d continued working as a charter captain while pregnant, finishing up a fishing trip, then driving herself to the hospital to give birth to Harlow.
She’d strapped on her newborn and had gone back to work within six weeks. In the evening, she did the company’s books. By the time Austin had come along, they’d had more boats and could afford help, but she’d still done the books until about six years ago.
In the divorce, Cord had bought her out of half the business—something he’d fought, but the judge had agreed that she’d worked just as hard to establish the company as he had. The supporting paperwork, including proof that she had indeed taken out a fishing charter the day she’d given birth, had helped.
Cord had pushed to pay her off over ten years instead of five. The monthly payments covered her expenses, including the mortgage, but didn’t leave a lot left over. Robyn had never thought much about her income stream or the fact that in six years, she wasn’t going to have that check to support her.
“Why don’t I have a plan?” she muttered to herself as she drove toward her neighborhood.
Selling the house was a huge first step. Once she had her own, smaller place, she wouldn’t be spending more than half of her monthly checks on the mortgage alone. She could save that money. She also needed to look at her job situation and work more hours.
She saw Austin’s SUV in the driveway. She pulled inside the garage. Once in the house, she called out his name.
“In the kitchen,” he yelled back.
She found him frowning at the contents of the refrigerator.
“Close the door, please,” she said, setting down her handbag.
He laughed and complied, then walked over and gave her a bear hug.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, yourself.” She smiled up at him, because two years ago, Austin had shot past her in height. “Not that I don’t love seeing you, but why are you here?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I filled up your refrigerator less than a week ago.”
He released her. “The guys ate everything.”
She thought of all the groceries she’d bought. “I suspect not everything.”
“You’re right, but all the good stuff.” He slid onto a stool at the island. “Besides, I miss you, so I came by.”
“To stare into the refrigerator?”
“It helps me think.” Austin’s expression was hopeful. “Want to fix me some dinner?”
“You’re taking advantage of me,” she said, although without a lot of energy.
“I know, and I feel bad about it. Part of the problem is my frontal cortex isn’t fully mature, so I don’t measure risk the same way I will when I’m twenty-five.”
“Ah, the lack of maturity defense.”
“It’s not a defense if it’s true. Please? I was out with a charter all day, and I’m starved.”
She tossed him a nectarine. “Eat this while I make dinner. It’ll be an hour.”
“You’re the best.” He bit into the nectarine. “Mind if I watch TV?”
“Help yourself.”
He walked toward the family room. She started the oven preheating, got a pot of water on the stove, then went to change out of her work clothes. Despite her teasing, she was happy to have company.
She returned to the kitchen and dropped pasta into the boiling water, then cut up raw chicken and some vegetables for a casserole. When the pasta was done, she drained it and put it in a large bowl with the chicken, veggies and Alfredo sauce cut with a little pasta water. Once the casserole was in the oven, she started on a salad and garlic bread. Austin wandered back.
“How’s work?” she asked when he resumed his seat at the island. “You still like the job?”
He glanced at her. “Do you really want to know, or is this heading into the ‘go to college’ conversation?”
She laughed. “Can it be both?”
“I guess. Oh, Harlow’s on a tear.”
She continued dicing tomato without reacting. “From what?”
“Dad’s dating Zafina. She’s—”
So Cord had finally told his daughter. “I know who she is. Someone at the club told me they were dating.”
“It’s not right. What was he thinking?”
When it came to women, Cord didn’t think. He acted, consequences be damned.
“He’s too old for her,” he added. “I don’t get it. What’s his plan? To make Harlow and Kip’s relationship all about him?”
“All good questions,” she said lightly. “Dinner in ten minutes.”
He got up and washed his hands. As he set the table in the kitchen, he said, “I’m glad you’re dating appropriately, Mom. I couldn’t take both of you doing weird stuff.”
“As long as we do it one at a time?”
He chuckled. “That would be great.”
She set the salad on the table. “Austin, we need to talk about the house.”
“Okay. What?”
“I want to sell it and buy something smaller.”
He looked at her expectantly. “And?”
“And that’s it.”
“Okay. I figured you’d be doing that. You never wanted to buy this place, and it’s huge. It’s gotta be expensive. I’m glad you kept it while I was in high school, but sure, now you want to sell.” He swallowed. “You’re still going to have room for me, right?”