sounded gruff and scratchy, and it reminded Ryan how old they were getting.
"Hey, Dad, it's me."
"Ryan," he said in recognition. "Your mother called you earlier, but you weren't there. Here, I'll put her on."
Good old Dad, never much for small talk.
"Hello, Ryan," his mother said a few seconds later.
"Hey, Mom. Sorry to call so late, but I just got in."
"That's all right; Dan and Carol just left. We were helping them pick out songs for church this Sunday. Did you know Dan is leading the choir now?"
Figures. "No. No, I didn't."
"Well, Miss Higgins has a bad hip and can't stand up that long anymore, so Dan volunteered to take over for her. And just in time, too, because the Summer Songfest is only two weeks away and the choir has to be ready."
Ryan found himself nodding into the phone even though he knew his mother couldn't see him. It was an old habit left over from when he'd lived at home, because he'd grown tired of saying, "Yeah," and "Uh-huh," when listening to constant news of Dan. His parents never seemed to notice his lack of response.
"Well, I won't keep you," Ryan said, "but I just wanted to let you know things are going fine here. The job is great and I really like the company."
"Are you eating?"
Ryan laughed. Worry over his eating habits was the one way his mother showered concern on him. If he was at home, she was plying him with food, and if he wasn't, she was lecturing him about it. "Not at the moment, Mom. But don't worry, I've got something in the oven right now and I'm keeping myself adequately fed."
"Junk food, I'll bet."
He spent another fleeting thought on Penny's pot roast and said, "Not all the time. Don't worry, I'm fine. And hey—" time to change the subject, he decided "—the condo is great. You guys should think about making a trip down here in the fall."
His mother stayed quiet. Predictably. It had been the same every time he'd invited them to Chicago, too. Finally, she said, "We'll see." Which really meant no. They only wanted to see him when he came home, when he was willing to revisit their life.
"Okay, Mom," he said, trying to sound resilient. "I'm kinda tired, though, so I'd better go."
They said their goodbyes and Ryan hung up, feeling as hollow as such conversations usually left him. Oh well, at least the call was out of the way now.
Sniffing the air, Ryan caught a whiff of something hot … burning! Plunking his beer can on the counter, he dashed to the stove and yanked open the oven door.
Damn. Nothing like crunchy pizza rolls.
Fumbling for a pot holder, thankful he'd even remembered to use one the way his night was going, he rescued the pan from the oven and decided the garlic bread didn't look like a total washout, only a little brown around the edges.
He didn't bother hunting for a plate, just took the whole pan to the table, lowering it to a woven place mat, then grabbed his beer and sat down. He'd planned on doing some work on Penny's system tonight, but as he popped the first crisp pizza roll into his mouth, he decided he really was too tired; he was going to go to bed and get some rest.
And he was going to wake up with a new attitude, he vowed. No more messing around, no more taking chances, no more wild women, no more anything that could ruin his life in any way. He might resent his parents, but he still couldn't help wanting, wishing, to make them proud.
None of this was Penny's fault—well, except for the first incident in the limo—but either way, Ryan had to be done with this, done with her. She might be cute and fun and sweet and sexy, but that didn't matter. Starting tomorrow, no more Penny. Well, no more Penny outside of their working relationship, something he didn't have much of a choice in. And to facilitate that, he was going to set a new number one priority—get Penny's computer fixed, so they wouldn't have to meet at her house any longer.
* * *
"The party you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message."
Penny sneered at the
"Hey, Dad, it's me."
"Ryan," he said in recognition. "Your mother called you earlier, but you weren't there. Here, I'll put her on."
Good old Dad, never much for small talk.
"Hello, Ryan," his mother said a few seconds later.
"Hey, Mom. Sorry to call so late, but I just got in."
"That's all right; Dan and Carol just left. We were helping them pick out songs for church this Sunday. Did you know Dan is leading the choir now?"
Figures. "No. No, I didn't."
"Well, Miss Higgins has a bad hip and can't stand up that long anymore, so Dan volunteered to take over for her. And just in time, too, because the Summer Songfest is only two weeks away and the choir has to be ready."
Ryan found himself nodding into the phone even though he knew his mother couldn't see him. It was an old habit left over from when he'd lived at home, because he'd grown tired of saying, "Yeah," and "Uh-huh," when listening to constant news of Dan. His parents never seemed to notice his lack of response.
"Well, I won't keep you," Ryan said, "but I just wanted to let you know things are going fine here. The job is great and I really like the company."
"Are you eating?"
Ryan laughed. Worry over his eating habits was the one way his mother showered concern on him. If he was at home, she was plying him with food, and if he wasn't, she was lecturing him about it. "Not at the moment, Mom. But don't worry, I've got something in the oven right now and I'm keeping myself adequately fed."
"Junk food, I'll bet."
He spent another fleeting thought on Penny's pot roast and said, "Not all the time. Don't worry, I'm fine. And hey—" time to change the subject, he decided "—the condo is great. You guys should think about making a trip down here in the fall."
His mother stayed quiet. Predictably. It had been the same every time he'd invited them to Chicago, too. Finally, she said, "We'll see." Which really meant no. They only wanted to see him when he came home, when he was willing to revisit their life.
"Okay, Mom," he said, trying to sound resilient. "I'm kinda tired, though, so I'd better go."
They said their goodbyes and Ryan hung up, feeling as hollow as such conversations usually left him. Oh well, at least the call was out of the way now.
Sniffing the air, Ryan caught a whiff of something hot … burning! Plunking his beer can on the counter, he dashed to the stove and yanked open the oven door.
Damn. Nothing like crunchy pizza rolls.
Fumbling for a pot holder, thankful he'd even remembered to use one the way his night was going, he rescued the pan from the oven and decided the garlic bread didn't look like a total washout, only a little brown around the edges.
He didn't bother hunting for a plate, just took the whole pan to the table, lowering it to a woven place mat, then grabbed his beer and sat down. He'd planned on doing some work on Penny's system tonight, but as he popped the first crisp pizza roll into his mouth, he decided he really was too tired; he was going to go to bed and get some rest.
And he was going to wake up with a new attitude, he vowed. No more messing around, no more taking chances, no more wild women, no more anything that could ruin his life in any way. He might resent his parents, but he still couldn't help wanting, wishing, to make them proud.
None of this was Penny's fault—well, except for the first incident in the limo—but either way, Ryan had to be done with this, done with her. She might be cute and fun and sweet and sexy, but that didn't matter. Starting tomorrow, no more Penny. Well, no more Penny outside of their working relationship, something he didn't have much of a choice in. And to facilitate that, he was going to set a new number one priority—get Penny's computer fixed, so they wouldn't have to meet at her house any longer.
* * *
"The party you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message."
Penny sneered at the
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