Clayton McClintock pressed his cell phone to his ear. âIâm going to be late,â he told his date, as he studied the flight schedule posted in the terminal. All the flights were on time but one. Hers. It figured. Conversation swirled around him as people rushed through the arrival gates and met those waiting for them in the lounge area.
On his phone there was dead silence. He pulled the cell from his ear to study its small screen, but his call hadnât been lost. âEllen, are you there?â he asked.
âYes,â was the reply, in a tone of long-suffering patience, followed by a sigh reminiscent of the dramatic ones his sisters had subjected him to in their teens. âThis isnât working, Clayton. You stand me up more often than you see me.â
He sighed, tooâwith frustration. âThings have been crazy with my sisterâs wedding stuff.â Writing checks, that had been his primary duty. And then heâd been pressed into playing chauffeur. Everyone else was busy with the rehearsal this afternoon.
He glanced at his watch. If Abbyâs flight was any later, theyâd miss dinner as well as the activities at the church. His plan had been to pick up his date after the rehearsal and bring her with him to the dinner. This wasnât the first time heâd had to set aside his own plans for the sake of his family, though.
âThings have been crazy,â Ellen agreed. âAnd your brotherâ¦â
Rory, who was in his teens, was going through a difficult time right now, also reminding Clayton of her. But she was hardly a teenager anymore. People grew up and maturedâprobably even Abby Hamilton. Clayton had to believe that Rory would do the same, provided his big brother didnât kill him first.
âItâs always something with your family, Clayton,â Ellen said. âYou never have time for me.â
He couldnât argue with her. He didnât have time for himself, either. Not with his job and his brother and sisters and his mom. How had his dad managed everything? Clayton had taken over family responsibilities eight years ago, and he had yet to figure out how to handle everything his father had managed so effortlessly. He lifted a hand and wiped it over his eyes. He was tired.
âIâve known for some time that it wasnât going to work out, Clayton. So donât bother calling me anymore.â
âMy sisterâs getting married tomorrow.â That would take care of one responsibility. âThings will get better then.â
âHow? Is she taking your mom and sister and brother with her? You donât have room in your life for me or for any woman, Clayton. Iâm sorry.â
The phone clicked and the call ended, not because of a faulty connection but because of a lack of a romantic connection. And except for going stag to the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, he wasnât even too upset. Clayton hadnât dated anyone long enough to say that heâd ever had a serious relationship. He blew out a ragged breath of relief. He didnât want a serious relationship because it was just one more responsibility he didnât need.
Waiting in an airport for Abby was bad enough. How like her to fly in at the last moment. Some bridesmaid sheâd turned out to be. Fortunately Molly had asked her longtime friend, Brenna Kelly, to be maid of honor. Clayton couldnât imagine Abby handling the responsibilities.
He headed over to the airport coffee shop and filled a disposable cup with strong black brew. When he passed his money to the clerk, he ignored her flirty smile and bright eyes. Maybe heâd stop dating for a whileâit wasnât as if he ever intended to get married, anyway. Heâd leave that to Molly, Colleen and Rory. Heck, he wouldnât even mind if his mom got married again. It was already eight years since his dad had died.
The same length of time Abby Hamilton had been gone. Sheâd taken off right after the funeral, even skipping her high school graduation. Not that sheâd have been able to graduate with her class, since sheâd just been expelled. If Clayton didnât get a handle on Rory soon, the youngest McClintock would probably be heading down that same dead end.
What was she doing now? His sisters and mom kept in touch with her, but they didnât tell him much. They knew how he felt. The last heâd heard, she was moving around, working temp jobs, which didnât surprise him. Nothing had ever seemed to hold her interest for long.
âFlight 3459 is arriving at Gate B4.â
The announcement startled him and his hand jerked, spilling coffee over his fingers and burning them. Abby was back. Claytonâs stomach lurched, maybe from the bitter liquid, or maybe because he knew that Abby Hamilton had always been nothing but trouble. She might be older now, and maybe even wiser, but he doubted she had changed that much.