“Hey,” he replied, keeping his hips to himself. “Mr. Patterson? I’m Lucas Campbell, a friend of your daughter’s,” he said when there was a pause in the conversation.
Viv was beaming, literally beaming, as she watched him shake my dad’s hand. So much hand shaking around here today.
“A friend of Chloe’s? Are you the Lucas I hear so much about?”
“That depends very much on what you’ve heard, sir.” Lucas laughed easily.
“Lucas who helped my daughter out of the jam with that giant Suburban?” my father asked.
“Well, sort of. She did most of the talking the second time around; you should have seen her when she got fired up.” Lucas slipped an arm around my shoulder, patting me in a “way to go” kind of way. I’d take it.
“And are you also the Lucas that got her in the water and on a paddleboard?”
“She’s a natural,” he crowed. “When she stops looking for fins.”
“I’ll never stop looking for fins,” I shuddered, and he grinned down at me.
The arm was still around the shoulders. Viv’s smile was now stretched around her entire head.
“Can I get you anything to drink Mr. Patterson? Water, soda, beer?” Lucas asked.
“Lucas, I just got off a small plane with my ex-wife.”
Lucas thought a moment. “Chloe’s taught me how to make a mean martini. Straight up or on the rocks?”
“Rocks. Always rocks.”
As they headed toward the house, Lucas said, “You’ve got a helluva bar here, Mr. Patterson. Chloe and I have been working our way through this old sixties cocktail recipe book. You ever had a zombie?”
“Have you been trying to get my daughter drunk, Lucas?” my dad asked as Lucas held the patio door open for him.
“Absolutely, Mr. Patterson. Absolutely,” Lucas said with a grin.
The last thing I heard my father say before they disappeared was, “In that case, call me Thomas.”
I looked at Viv and Clark and threw up my hands, shaking my head.
Viv looked me dead in the eye and said, “Hit that. Hit that now.”
“Hit what? Who’s hitting someone?” Clark asked.
I went to rescue my mother from Marge.
All in all, not too bad.
Eventually the party dwindled down to just a handful. We’d made two more adoption matches today; Steve and Edie went to a farmer and his wife just outside town who’d been looking for a matched set. The dogs had been abandoned when their family could no longer afford to care for them, and we’d kept them together until we found a home that would take them as a pair. As always, I felt a little lump in my throat when I saw my dogs going to their forever home. We’d also raised a pretty hefty sum through donations today, and many guests had brought things like dog beds, chew toys, cans of dog food, and still more tennis balls.
All in all? A success.
The music was still going strong, though the only ones dancing now were Marge and Lou. Wrapped around each other like pythons, the hippie and the matchmaker were something to behold. And by that, I mean it was terrifying watching them practically mount each other on the makeshift dance floor.
“No more slow songs, I told you that,” I whispered to Lucas, who was trying his best not to watch the train wreck that was currently two-stepping by to the tune of “I Only Have Eyes for You.”
“Come on, chickie baby, it’s nice. In a somewhat gross way.”
“But I liked this song! Now it’s forever tainted by this memory,” I moaned, turning away. And catching something I never thought I’d see again in my life. My father, leading my mother onto the dance floor.
Now, I’d been told by my mother expressly when planning my wedding to Charles that under no circumstances would there be a Mother/Father dance taking place, and that if I pushed it, I’d regret it. So imagine my surprise when the two held hands and, with an appropriate amount of space in between them, began to dance.
“I don’t believe it,” I said, my jaw somewhere down by my feet. “I’ve got to get a picture of this; Clark will never believe it.”
He and Vivian had left long ago, arguing over some historic lighthouse he wanted to see on the way home. As they’d headed to their car, that discussion shifted into which route to take home. I’d also seen Clark’s hand disappear down the back of her skirt as they walked, and I had a feeling that if they stopped, it wasn’t going to be to look at a lighthouse.
“I’m sorry my parents couldn’t make it,” Lucas said. “Dad had to cover a shift at the clinic, and my mom’s getting over the flu. She’s dying to meet you, though, and said to tell you congratulations.”
“Dying to meet me? You been talking about me?” I asked, taking my eyes off my parents dancing for the first time in years to look up at Lucas. Dusk had fallen, and a warm breeze was blowing in off the ocean, carrying the faintest scent of brine, cut with the night-blooming jasmine that was just beginning to open.
“If I had, would that be so bad?” he asked.
“No,” I murmured. “Not bad at all.” I swayed a bit to the music, watching the couples that had now joined Marge and Lou, and my mother and father. Suddenly I wanted to be dancing in my backyard.
I looked up at Lucas, just as he started to say, “Would you—”
“Chloe, dear, your father’s just informed me that there seems to have been a mistake at the hotel, and there’s only one room available. So if it’s all right with you, it looks like I’ll be staying here.”