glass in front of her and a mostly full bottle of Jim Bean. If she'd been trying to make herself look like a Hollywood caricature of a woman pathetically trying to make people feel sorry for her, she couldn't have made a better start.
Kara took a deep breath. She didn't really want to reach out to Hanna right now. She didn't really like the woman. But at the same time, this was Ron's mother and the last fifteen minutes had driven home to Kara how deeply she really loved her handsome, blond boyfriend.
She steeled her nerve and joined Hanna at the bar. The bartender stepped over to her and asked what she wanted to drink.
Kara waved a hand dismissively at the bottle of Jim Beam. “First take this away,” she said. “Hanna's had enough already. Then bring us each a Michelob Ultra.” If she had to drink without Ron tonight, at least she could do it without a lot of calories.
The bartender shifted his gaze to Hanna who sat holding the bottle in her right hand and her shot glass in her left. She hadn't even acknowledged Kara's presence yet.
“Hanna?” Kara kept her voice quiet and calm. “Give the nice bartender the bottle. We really don't want to get too drunk tonight.”
While Hanna hesitated, the bartender set an open bottle of Michelob Ultra in front of each of them. She finally sighed and moved her hand to the beer. She lifted it to her mouth and took a long swig. When she finished, she set it back on the bar and said: “At least it doesn't taste as bad as the bourbon.”
In Kara's opinion, the Ultra didn't have much taste at all, but then she'd been spoiled lately by the decidedly robust Black and Tans she'd been drinking with Ron. She left her own beer on the bar and waited for Hanna to say something.
It didn't take long.
“He didn't have to tell them,” Hanna complained.
No, Kara supposed, he didn't. But why were you keeping it a secret? Maybe she could understand hiding Ron's paternity, but the girls? Adoption was pretty common these days. There certainly wasn't any stigma attached to it and there were potential medical benefits from learning your biological parents’ health histories.
“We kept the secret for thirty-six years,” Hanna continued. “They're our girls! He didn't have to tell them differently.”
“I don't think,” Kara tentatively suggested, “that was the message Howard was trying to impart.”
Hanna glared at her for a moment then drained the rest of her beer. As Kara hadn't touched hers yet, Ron's mother reached across the bar and snatched up hers. The bartender walked over and placed two more in front of them, offering Kara what she took to be a sympathetic look.
On the television screen above the bar, weather forecasters seemed to be predicting that the much-heralded storm really was coming their way. The television commentators were worried about rain, but Kara idly wondered if they could see snow at this altitude.
“Thirty-six years,” Hanna mumbled.
Kara decided that Hanna needed a little encouragement if she were going to talk about things that would be useful to Ron. “How did it happen?” she asked.
Hanna looked around in confusion. “What?”
“You adopted two girls,” Kara reminded her. She wanted to ask more specifically about Ron, but she was afraid that if she pushed too hard too soon, Hanna would clam up and Kara wouldn't learn anything.
The older woman took another swig of beer. She wasn't sipping it. She was gulping it down. The action—and the image it presented—was at odds with the ladylike demeanor she normally presented.
“Hanna?” Kara prompted.
“Howard can't have children,” Hanna confessed. “We didn't know before we got married. Believe it or not, we actually waited to get married to start having sex. That's surprising these days, but it wasn't all that uncommon forty years ago, no matter what people tell you about the sixties and seventies.”
“And so you adopted,” Kara encouraged.
“His sperm count is about
Kara took a deep breath. She didn't really want to reach out to Hanna right now. She didn't really like the woman. But at the same time, this was Ron's mother and the last fifteen minutes had driven home to Kara how deeply she really loved her handsome, blond boyfriend.
She steeled her nerve and joined Hanna at the bar. The bartender stepped over to her and asked what she wanted to drink.
Kara waved a hand dismissively at the bottle of Jim Beam. “First take this away,” she said. “Hanna's had enough already. Then bring us each a Michelob Ultra.” If she had to drink without Ron tonight, at least she could do it without a lot of calories.
The bartender shifted his gaze to Hanna who sat holding the bottle in her right hand and her shot glass in her left. She hadn't even acknowledged Kara's presence yet.
“Hanna?” Kara kept her voice quiet and calm. “Give the nice bartender the bottle. We really don't want to get too drunk tonight.”
While Hanna hesitated, the bartender set an open bottle of Michelob Ultra in front of each of them. She finally sighed and moved her hand to the beer. She lifted it to her mouth and took a long swig. When she finished, she set it back on the bar and said: “At least it doesn't taste as bad as the bourbon.”
In Kara's opinion, the Ultra didn't have much taste at all, but then she'd been spoiled lately by the decidedly robust Black and Tans she'd been drinking with Ron. She left her own beer on the bar and waited for Hanna to say something.
It didn't take long.
“He didn't have to tell them,” Hanna complained.
No, Kara supposed, he didn't. But why were you keeping it a secret? Maybe she could understand hiding Ron's paternity, but the girls? Adoption was pretty common these days. There certainly wasn't any stigma attached to it and there were potential medical benefits from learning your biological parents’ health histories.
“We kept the secret for thirty-six years,” Hanna continued. “They're our girls! He didn't have to tell them differently.”
“I don't think,” Kara tentatively suggested, “that was the message Howard was trying to impart.”
Hanna glared at her for a moment then drained the rest of her beer. As Kara hadn't touched hers yet, Ron's mother reached across the bar and snatched up hers. The bartender walked over and placed two more in front of them, offering Kara what she took to be a sympathetic look.
On the television screen above the bar, weather forecasters seemed to be predicting that the much-heralded storm really was coming their way. The television commentators were worried about rain, but Kara idly wondered if they could see snow at this altitude.
“Thirty-six years,” Hanna mumbled.
Kara decided that Hanna needed a little encouragement if she were going to talk about things that would be useful to Ron. “How did it happen?” she asked.
Hanna looked around in confusion. “What?”
“You adopted two girls,” Kara reminded her. She wanted to ask more specifically about Ron, but she was afraid that if she pushed too hard too soon, Hanna would clam up and Kara wouldn't learn anything.
The older woman took another swig of beer. She wasn't sipping it. She was gulping it down. The action—and the image it presented—was at odds with the ladylike demeanor she normally presented.
“Hanna?” Kara prompted.
“Howard can't have children,” Hanna confessed. “We didn't know before we got married. Believe it or not, we actually waited to get married to start having sex. That's surprising these days, but it wasn't all that uncommon forty years ago, no matter what people tell you about the sixties and seventies.”
“And so you adopted,” Kara encouraged.
“His sperm count is about
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