Golden Trail
Page 169

If Layne had to place a bet on which one Dev would pick, it would be Helen.
“Don’t know when I’ll be home, woman,” Devin said to Vera.
“Oh, even if you’re late, we’ll keep it warm for you,” Vera replied.
“Right,” Devin muttered and Layne knew he was leaving because he heard Vera call, “See you later!”
Devin made no reply.
Vera came into the office.
“Hi honey,” she greeted and Layne stood as she rounded his desk and he bent so she could kiss his cheek.
“Hey, Ma,” Layne murmured.
She squeezed his arm, turned and bustled away and Layne resumed his seat as she sat opposite him.
“I just got off the phone with Rocky. Tomorrow after she gets off work, we’re going furniture shopping,” she announced, plonking her purse on her lap.
“What?” Layne asked.
“You need a dining room table. You also need something for that front space. I’m thinking a reading area. Chaise lounge. An elegant table. A floor lamp.”
Fucking hell.
“Ma –”
She cut him off. “I’ll be in the office tomorrow during the day. I talked to Dave. He said you need listeners and I’m a good listener. I can do some office work while I’m at it.”
He wasn’t going to turn that down.
“Ma, the furniture –”
Vera looked him straight in the eye. “Is Rocky eventually going to move in?”
“Yeah,” Layne answered.
“Then you need to give her a home to move into.”
“It’s already a home, Ma, and she hasn’t complained.”
“She moves in, are you going to go furniture shopping?”
“Fuck no.”
She threw out a hand and announced, “No time like the present.”
She had him there so Layne grinned.
“You’re a nut,” he muttered.
“Yep,” she replied on a smile.
“You gonna stay in town much longer?”
She tipped her head to the side and shared, “Florida isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. They have hurricanes and they don’t have Hilligoss donuts.”
This was true and Hilligoss was worth moving back home. So was being close to her grandsons before they both moved off to educate themselves and start their lives as well as being close to her son when he was happy and last, being close to Rocky again.
“So you’re moving back.”
She answered with, “I can do your books.”
That wasn’t a receptionist but it was something.
“Thanks, Ma.”
“You’re welcome, Tanner.”
“By the way, I’m not sure you’d be doin’ Aunt Flo or Helen a favor, hookin’ them up to Devin. He’s not young but that doesn’t mean he’s not wild.”
She cocked her head to the side again. “Hooking him up with Flo or Helen?”
“I know your game.”
She smiled and it was a smile he’d never seen before in his life.
Then she suddenly stood, hitched her purse on her shoulder and walked to the door. In the door, she turned and leveled her gaze on his.
“It isn’t Flo or Helen makin’ him beef and noodles, Tanner.”
Holy f**k.
Layne stared.
Then he started, “Ma –”
Her smile turned lazy and Layne didn’t know what to do with that because he was a man and she was his mother, for f**k’s sake, and as a man, he knew what that smile communicated and he hoped to all that was holy she never directed that smile at Devin. The man wouldn’t stand a chance.
“All these years, after your father, never met a man who was worth the trouble because, except to get you, your father proved not worth the trouble,” she remarked.
“Ma –”
“Until now.”
Oh shit.
“Ma –”
“See you later, honey,” she said cheerfully, turned and walked out.
Layne stared at the door. Then he shook his head.
Then he started laughing as he reached for his phone to call Rocky.
* * * * *
Thursday, 6:11 p.m.
His client lifted his eyes from the folder he was reading and noted, “This didn’t take you long.”
Layne sat across the client’s desk from him. “He wasn’t real smart with hiding it,” Layne replied, “and he didn’t try.”
The man’s face closed down. He was embarrassed, or more accurately, humiliated. And he should be. He had an employee who had been embezzling for over three years and he didn’t cotton on until about a month before he hired Layne which was only a few weeks ago.
Layne moved him past it.
“He’s also got a ticket to Argentina. He leaves Sunday. So, my advice, pick up your phone and call the cops.”
The man nodded, reaching for the phone.
Layne stood and moved from his office but stopped and turned when the man called his name.
“You ever need a reference, you can tell your potential clients to call me,” the man stated.
“Obliged,” Layne muttered and moved out of the office.
He was out of the building and nearing the Suburban when his cell rang. He pulled it out, looked at the display, flipped it open and put it to his ear.
“Yo, sweetcheeks.”
“You like oak?”
Layne bleeped the locks on the Suburban. “Come again?”
“Oak. The wood. For the dining room table,” she explained. “See, I don’t like oak. I mean, it’s okay, but I prefer walnut or cherry wood. Also mahogany. But your Mom and I found this awesome dining room table. Ladderback chairs. One beautifully carved, thick, center leg, with four clawed feet coming out at the bottom. It’s amazing. Two leaves so it could sit ten. You could even squeeze twelve in, at a push. The perfect Thanksgiving Dinner table.”
By the time she was done talking, Layne had swung up in the cab and closed his door. “You like it, get it.”
“Well, does it sound like something you’d like? I mean, oak… I’m not sure.”
“You like it, get it,” Layne repeated.
“Layne –”
“Roc, I really don’t care about furniture. If it’s there, I use it. I don’t care what it looks like or what it’s made of. So if you like it, get it.”
She was silent.
When this lasted awhile, Layne called, “Roc?”
“You care,” she said softly.
“What?”
“You care, Layne, and that’s okay. You can be a badass and also have style. I mean, you dress really nice too.”