Imogene flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Anyway, I had to pay off some of my bills with the money you gave me before. I’m flat broke.”
“Have you been using?” If Imogene could be blunt, so could Mary.
“What business is it of yours?”
That answer told Mary what she wanted to know. “It’s my business,” she said, “because if you’re using, any money I give you is likely to go to the same place your dad’s money went.”
Imogene rolled to her side, sat up and glared. “You think you’re so perfect,” she said. “What if your new friends find out what you’re really like?”
Mary’s heart accelerated into a too-rapid rhythm. She has nothing on you. It wasn’t your fault. Counselors over the years had tried to get her to believe that.
But she’d maintained contact with her first husband, against Ben’s wishes. That was what had given him access to their location and their habits.
Despite the many years that had passed, her heart still burned with guilt. And she didn’t want to contaminate her Pleasant Shores life with the old pain.
She could give Imogene money, a lot, and she’d go away for a while. But as long as Imogene knew she had more, she’d be back.
“I need a smoke.” Imogene pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Is this place nonsmoking?”
“I’m sure it is, but there are chairs outside where it’s probably okay.”
Imogene stomped out of the room and Mary followed her, watching as she lit up, then looking up and down the parking lot. It wasn’t full, but there were a healthy number of cars. The motel was doing well, and that made Mary happy for Ria. She needed to focus on good things, her friends’ successes for example, not on things in the past she couldn’t change.
Her phone buzzed, and she accepted the call, walking away from Imogene.
“Mary, it’s Heather. Your offer was accepted!”
It took Mary a minute to switch gears. “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”
“You got the house!”
“Oh, that’s great news!”
“We rushed everything through, like you wanted, or at least, Kirk has started the process. You’ll need to come in and sign some things, and we’ll get the closing scheduled as early as next week.”
“Terrific. Thank you so much. I’ll be in tomorrow.”
Mary’s heart lightened with the thought. No matter what Imogene’s problems, she was moving on to do something good.
“What’s got you so happy?” Imogene said from close behind her. It brought back memories. Imogene had always been one to sneak up on you.
“Just some good news,” she said, her stomach twisting. The last thing she wanted was for Imogene to find out about this purchase.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE NEXT SATURDAY MORNING, Paul sat on his porch, relaxing for what seemed like the first time in days. Davey was playing at another kid’s house, a new friend from school, and he’d been excited to go. That was great because Davey had been having trouble sleeping and had been a little cranky the last few days. The child therapist thought he might be starting to reexperience some trauma from his mother’s death or from Paul’s difficulties after the shooting.
Paul felt deeply ashamed that his own issues—his PTSD and what he’d said and done directly after the school shooting—had hurt his son, but the therapist assured him that kids were resilient. Today was an example of that. Davey had seemed like any carefree kid when he’d gone running into his friend’s house.
From the direction of Amber’s cottage, he heard a door slam and automatically leaned forward to look in that direction. When he realized what he was doing, he forced himself to sit back and turn his eyes away.
The other day, they’d shared a lot about the past. Paul had told Amber a little about the shooting, something he rarely talked about outside of a therapist’s office. It was all part of his healing process, and was prompted by the counselor. But the fact that he’d chosen Amber to confide in was no coincidence.
He liked her. Cared about her. Wanted to know her, and for her to know him.
As for Amber, she had talked about her cancer experience and her fears. She let herself be vulnerable with him and it had made a difference, made him feel closer.
Truth to tell, he’d almost kissed her. And he had had the impression that she wouldn’t have minded.
But that couldn’t happen. Davey couldn’t be allowed to get close to a woman with Amber’s health problems. Paul felt like a bad person for that, and if it had just been him, he would have definitely been willing to get close, to see where it went, whatever the risk.
But his job now was to take care of Davey, protect him. That was the main focus of his life. And for Davey’s sake, that meant keeping Amber at some kind of a distance.
Amber jogged by without pausing to wave to him, which disappointed him. He could see that she was wearing earbuds, and from what he knew of her, she was probably rocking out to some music he’d always considered way too young for him.
The truth was, Amber was too young for him. If not in years, then in outlook.
He leaned back, hands linked behind his head, looking up at the incredibly blue sky. The air was brisk, but they were still in the middle of a warm spell, more like fall than winter. The waters of the Chesapeake kept the climate here more temperate than in other places Paul had lived.
He could definitely get used to it. He’d never considered actually living here, leaving city life behind, but he liked Pleasant Shores. If Davey settled in well...
But staying here meant staying in close proximity to Amber. The thought of that heated his heart, but also set off warning alarms inside him. He didn’t know if he could stay near Amber long-term without pursuing the relationship.
He daydreamed awhile, until an SUV pulled up in front of his cottage and stopped with a jerk and a squeak of brakes. Paul was immediately on his feet, adrenaline flowing, reaching for a gun he didn’t carry anymore.
But it was just the mother of the child Davey had had a playdate with. Concerned in a different way, and he headed down the porch steps as she got out of the car quickly, opened the back door and helped Davey climb out. She grabbed his booster seat and marched up the walk, holding Davey’s hand.
Paul met them halfway. “What’s up?” he asked, kneeling to meet Davey. His eyes skimmed over his son, who seemed physically fine, though his lower lip stuck out a little and his face was streaked with tears.
“Hi, Paul,” the mother said. “We needed to have Davey come home a little early.”
Half an hour after a playdate started was really early. He opened his arms to Davey, who ran into them and buried his face in Paul’s chest.
“Did something go wrong?” he asked the mother quietly.
Instead of answering, she pulled something out of her pocket and held it toward Paul. When he saw it, his heart gave a great thump and every muscle in his body tensed as he reached for the weapon. Black, plastic, it was an M1911 replica that, other than a slight difference in size, looked like the real thing. Like most cops, he hated this kind of toy. “What on earth is that?” he asked.
Davey grabbed at it, and Paul held it out of reach. “No way, kiddo. You know you’re not allowed to play with guns.”
“I was wondering where he got it,” the mother said, frowning. “It’s way too realistic of a toy gun, especially for such a young child. Davey had it in his backpack, and he got Justin interested in playing with it. It has rubber bullets, too.” She reached into her pocket again and pulled out a case of brightly colored bullets. “They weren’t able to figure out how to load it, and nobody got hurt. Maybe I’m a wimp, but I’m just not comfortable with this type of toy, and Davey got really upset when I took it away.”
This didn’t make sense. Paul wiped sweaty hands on his jeans. The last thing he wa
nted was to see a toy gun in his child’s hands. He’d even vetoed squirt guns, so far. “I apologize. I don’t know where he got it, but he certainly won’t be playing with it anymore.” He felt Davey tense and suck in his breath for what was sure to be a wail. “I’ll talk to Davey and get to the bottom of this.”
“Great, I thought you’d probably want to do that. No judgment here, but I do need to get back to Justin. He hates being left alone in the car.” She turned and hurried down the walk, almost colliding with Amber, who was jogging her slow jog. Amber stopped and greeted the woman, and the two exchanged a few seemingly friendly words. Then Justin’s mother got into the car and drove away.
Davey grabbed for the gun again. “It’s mine!”
Amber continued on toward her house, but after a few steps she paused, turned and walked slowly up the pathway to Paul’s porch. “Is everything okay? Any way I can help?” Her eyes widened, and Paul realized she was looking at the gun he was holding out of Davey’s reach.
“It’s a toy,” Paul said. “A toy Davey had without my knowledge, and I’m not sure where he got it. It upset his friend and his friend’s mom.” He nodded toward the departing car.
“Oh, wow,” she said. “How would Davey have gotten a toy without your knowing about it? Do you think he got it at school or something?”
“Are you kidding? They have a total nonviolence policy, and I’m behind that.” He stroked Davey’s head. “Look at me, son. Where did you get your toy gun?”
Davey jerked his face away, staring at the ground. “Can’t say,” he mumbled.
Paul stared blankly at Davey. “Did someone give it to you?” His heart pounded. Was someone stalking Davey?
Amber paused her music and knelt down to Davey’s level. “Even if someone tells you to keep a secret, buddy, you never have to do that. You’re always allowed to tell your father. You won’t get in trouble.”
Davey looked up at her and then looked at Paul, his brow furrowed.
Paul nodded. “Miss Amber is right. You won’t get in trouble for telling me a secret.”
“But Grammy and Grandpa said not to tell you,” Davey said. “They said you would be mad.”
They were right. Fiery anger built in Paul’s chest, but with an effort, he kept his voice steady. “I’m not mad at you. Did Grammy and Grandpa give you the gun?”
“Yeah. And it’s mine.” He grabbed for it again.
Paul kept a hold on it. “No way, pal.”
Davey lifted his chin. “You have a gun.”
Paul shook his head. “Not anymore. Guns are very, very dangerous.” He was glad he could say it, glad he’d given his weapon to Trey for safekeeping. The thought of Davey mixing up this gun with a real one, playing with it, shooting it...ugly terror rose like lava in his gut. He’d been careful, used good rules of gun safety, but he also knew that the best efforts didn’t always keep kids safe.
“I’m going to call Grammy and Grandpa and talk to them,” he said. “You did just right, telling me. Let’s go inside and get you a snack.”
Davey shook his head. “I don’t wanna go inside.”
Amber touched Paul’s arm. “He could come dig me more holes,” she suggested, “while you call.” She was speaking in a low voice, obviously trying not to let Davey hear in case Paul didn’t want him to come.
“Thank you. That would be a help.” He didn’t want to be close with Amber, or rather, he knew he shouldn’t, but he needed to find out what was going on right away. This constituted an emergency. “I’ll try to reach them now and pick him up in a few minutes.”
“No problem. Come on, Davey, let’s you and me and Sarge go get some treats and dig some holes.”
“’Kay.” Davey grasped the hand she’d extended, and they walked off toward Amber’s home.
Paul watched them and thought, again, about how good Amber was with Davey. He’d love to go over there right now with them, sit on the porch with Amber, chill out and talk through what had just happened.
But first, he had to deal with Ferguson and Georgiana. What was going on with them? They’d attempted to pick Davey up at school without Paul’s permission and they’d threatened to sue for custody. Now it turned out they’d given Davey an even more inappropriate toy than the jeep. If they were anyone else but Wendy’s parents, he’d cut off their access to Davey without a second thought.
But not only was Davey their only connection to the daughter they’d lost, they were important to Davey. They would help keep Wendy alive in Davey’s heart, and that mattered. A lot.
He needed to get them to come to a counseling session with him. To try and figure out why they were acting this way, and get them to see that they were only hurting their beloved grandson.
Once he’d called them, he’d figure out what to do next about Amber.
* * *
AMBER SAT ON her front steps, shivering in an oversize sweatshirt. Sarge was at her feet and Davey knelt just on the other side of the big dog. “Those are some good holes, Davey,” she said to the little boy vigorously digging in her flower beds.
“Thanks.” Davey’s tongue stuck out a little from the corner of his mouth as he carefully planted the last tulip bulb from the bag. “Any more?”
“Nope, that’s all I have, but you’re welcome to dig more holes.” It seemed like the boy could use more of a physical outlet. She remembered from Hannah’s childhood that the more time a kid spent outdoors and active, the better their mood and appetite and sleep.
Davey dug for a short while longer and then threw down the trowel. “I’m hungry,” he said. “I’m gonna go home for lunch.”
Amber glanced over toward Paul’s house. “Come on inside my place. Daddy will be over soon, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you have lunch with me first.” When Davey opened his mouth to complain, she said, “I make really good grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Davey’s face brightened. “Okay,” he said.
They walked inside, Sarge trailing behind them, and Amber set butter melting in her cast-iron skillet. Then she got Davey to wash his hands and dug up a box of crayons someone had left here. She sat him down to color until lunch was ready.
She was no expert on how to handle kids with problems, except to let them play and feed them well. Hannah had been a dream child, and her mom and Erica had been nothing but supportive. She didn’t envy Paul the task of working things out between a troubled kid and his difficult grandparents.
She dipped slices of wheat bread in the melted butter and built sandwiches in the pan. Maybe Paul would be hungry when he came to get Davey.
Exactly what she shouldn’t be expecting, let alone hoping for.
Sarge gave a low, casual bark as footsteps sounded on the back deck.
“Hey, are you up for a couple of visitors?” It wasn’t Paul; it was Erica, baby Hunter on her hip, opening the back door and coming in. That was their habit here in Pleasant Shores, and Amber loved being able to walk into her sister’s house and for her sister to do the same here. They’d lived together, Hannah, too, when they’d first moved to Pleasant Shores, and now, their houses seemed like big extensions of the same dwelling, even though Erica and Trey and Hunter lived a block away.
Amber greeted Erica and gave her a one-armed hug, then kissed Hunter’s cheek with a loud smack that made the baby laugh. “Davey is visiting me and I’m making grilled cheese. Want some?”
“You know I would never turn down your grilled cheese sandwiches.” Erica smiled at Davey. “Hi, buddy.”
“Hi.” Davey didn’t look up, but kept coloring, still with the same intense focus.
“This is cozy,” Erica said. “Where’s Paul?”
“He’ll be over in a few.” Amber sliced cheese for more sandwiches as the first set sizzled away in the pan.
“He’s calling Grammy and Grandpa because they got me a gun,” Davey volunteered. “He’s mad.�
��
“I see.” Erica glanced at Amber and then walked over to sit beside Davey. “Looks like you’re coloring some great pictures.” She leaned closer. “What is that, a dog?”
“Yeah, a police dog,” Davey said. “Here’s the officer, and this is his gun, but I’m not allowed to have one.” He frowned. “Daddy used to have one, but now he doesn’t.”
Erica glanced at Amber again. “I don’t much like guns,” she said to Davey. “They can be dangerous.”
“I like them!”
Amber came to the table, plates in hand. “Lots of kids do, and that’s okay,” she said to Davey. “But Daddy makes the rules about what you can play with.” She set sandwiches in front of Erica and Davey. Then she returned to the counter, added tomato slices and fresh basil to two more sandwiches, and set them cooking.
From the table, Erica groaned with pleasure. “I don’t know how you make something so ordinary taste exotic.”
“Everybody’s good at something, I guess,” Amber joked. But she liked this, feeding people, taking care of them. She missed it now that Hannah was in college.
“I think we had grilled cheese every night for a month when Mom was working that night shift job. Remember?”
“I sure do. That was mainly what was in the refrigerator. White bread, and that awful processed cheese we loved so much. I think we had cans of tomato soup, too.” She looked at Davey. “Want me to heat up some soup for you, kiddo?”
Davey shook his head. “’Nother sandwich,” he said through a mouthful.
“Sure thing.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Sarge lifted his head and gave a half-hearted woof. “I bet that’s your daddy,” Amber said, and went into the living room. She sucked in her stomach, ran her fingers through her hair and opened the door.
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