The phone to her ear, she listened to the rings and waited for the click indicating he had picked up.
The tell-tale noise didn't come.
Voicemail.
Maybe leaving was the worst idea I've had since that spiral perm in the 80s, she thought.
"Hey. The plane just touched down. I'm headed into the office, check on a few folks then back to my house to forage for dinner since you're not here to play delivery boy with my Chinese food. If you find time to call and let me know you're not in jail for murder, that would be good."
She disconnected with a heavy sigh and disembarked the plane.
The office had been quiet, thankfully. She had cleared out her emails and was bored enough to prioritize the leaning-tower-of-Pisa stack of paperwork on her desk before heading home.
The house was quiet and dark. Brandi had been spending almost all of her days and nights with Peter. And with Jinx's new job and apartment, the house was truly Mary's alone.
The silence was unnerving. Having gone from the constant thrum of activity at the Mann's house to the quiet shuffling activity of the B&B, hearing only her own motions and footsteps in her house was enough to set her just on edge.
The go-bag got dropped inside the door and she shuffled towards the couch, flopping back onto it with appreciation she rarely felt for the inanimate object.
When the phone in her pocket buzzed, she wearily fished it out and glanced at the screen. She flipped it open with a grin.
"My cell mate's name is Spike and he says I've got a cute ass and that my father probably deserved it."
She couldn't help but chuckle at his greeting. "Tell him I don't disagree on either count."
He was clearly stunned into silence for the shortest of beats. "You think I have a cute ass?"
"The thought has crossed my mind at least once in seven years, Marshall, yes," she snipped back. "I do notice this stuff."
In her mind's eye she could clearly envision the doubtful-but-pondering face he was making. She interrupted before his brain could construct a three-hundred word sentence in reply.
"How did the meeting with the lawyer go?"
"It was interesting," he replied. "I didn't even know mom had some of those assets. The family dynamic changed completely when her bequest was read."
She closed her eyes and felt herself relax into the sofa, the timbre of his voice washing over her.
Marshall continued, changing topic without prompting. "I had an interesting chat with Dad. He's still alive, you'll be pleased to hear. But he's vowed to keep his nosey over protective paternal butt away from you."
"You shouldn't have said anything."
"Mary, I have every right to expect my father to respect my friend and partner. If he can't be polite and courteous to guests I bring to family-events, then it should be addressed."
She sighed, still not used to having him stand up for her even after all these years.
"I'll be home day after tomorrow," he offered to her silence.
"Want me to pick you up?"
"No. Thanks. My truck's at the airport." She had asked 'want' not 'need' and he grinned at the difference. 'Want' was his preference, his desire. 'Need' was entirely different. She was asking what would make him happy.
Mary felt the unspoken words thick on the line. She knew what he wanted. What he needed. And she knew she needed it, too. But he had set this ball in her court and he would patiently wait for it to come from her.
She smiled to herself, wondering if he was in fact the most patient man on the face of the earth. "Swing by when you get back? We'll go get a bite."
"See you then," he replied. "Night, Mare. Sweet Dreams."
"Night Marshall."