He caught her nod and continued, his lips curling a little. “Your father too, I reckon—has he been happy?”
“I think so.”
“That’s odd.” He had spoken more to himself than to Sheila and he looked at her with narrowed eyes when she answered.
“What is odd? That my father should be happy—that I should?”
“Odd that anyone who is happy in one place should want to leave that place and go to another. Maybe the place he went to wouldn’t be just right for him. What makes people want to move around like that?”
“Perhaps you could answer that yourself,” suggested Sheila. “I am sure that you haven’t lived here in this part of the country all your life.”
“How do you know that?” His gaze was quizzical and mocking.
“I don’t know. But you haven’t.”
“Well,” he said, “we’ll say I haven’t. But I wasn’t happy where I came from and I came here looking for happiness—and something else. That I didn’t find what I was looking for isn’t the question—mostly none of us find the things we’re looking for. But if I had been happy where I was I wouldn’t have come here. You say your father has been happy there; that he’s got plenty of money and all that. Then why should he want to live here?”
“I believe I told you that he is coming here for his health.”