“Okay. Fine. Then don’t. Only reason I asked in the first place is because my dad told me to.”
“Your dad? Stop lyin’ to me you little shrimp.”
Jonah shook his head. “I’m not lying. I get in trouble if I lie.”
About that time the bell rang, signaling that recess was done. The boys rushed off to line up with their respective classes before going back inside.
The next two hours dragged by as Jonah struggled to create a collage with the letters of the alphabet. He had to pick a word that started with each letter which seemed to take forever, especially with x, y, and z. So when the final bell sounded no one was more ready to go home than he was. In the hallway, he hefted his backpack and started running toward the exit.
He skidded to a stop when he saw that Bobby Prather stood outside on the stoop, guarding the door and waiting to make trouble.
“Hey, did you mean it when you said I could come home with you after school?”
It took Jonah a few seconds to answer. “Um, sure. But you said it was lame.”
“I don’t have anything else to do so…let’s go. I’ve already spotted your dad over there at the curb. He’s always waiting for you. He’s got dogs with him.”
“Yeah. When we lived in New York it used to be my grandmother who picked me up from school until she got sick and died and then we moved here. That’s my dog, Jax with Izzy’s dog, Jazz,” Jonah explained as he went running up to his dad and immediately hunkered down to rub his pup’s ears. “Bobby’s coming over to play at our house.”
“So I see. Hello, Bobby. Have you asked your parents if it’s okay to go home with Jonah?”
“No, but they won’t care.”
Thane shook his head. “Sorry, but that’s not good enough. Let’s walk over to your house and talk to your mom or dad. How does that sound?”
“Do we have to?” Bobby moaned. “My dad’s probably at work already and mom doesn’t mind what I do as long as I stay out of her hair.”
Out of the mouths of children came the most unflattering sorts of information, Thane decided. “’Fraid so, buddy. Your mom needs to know where you are at all times. It won’t take that long since your house is just around the corner from ours.” When he saw the downhearted look on the boy’s face, he added, “Don’t look so worried, I’m sure they won’t mind.”
On the walk to the Prather house, Thane turned to Jonah and wanted to know, “How was school today?”
“My teacher said I had trouble with my math worksheet. She gave me homework and problems to add and subtract,” Jonah grumbled.
“Okay, we’ll work on that tonight when we get home. How about you, Bobby, are you any good in math?”
“We’re learning our multiplication tables. Ms. Brach says I do okay.”
By that time they’d made the shortcut through the alleyway to Athena Circle and stood in front of a country-style cottage that needed a little upkeep on the outside trim. But then it was a reminder that the stucco on his own home could use a refresh.
Bobby ran up to the porch and opened the door, keeping Thane and Jonah from ringing the doorbell. Bobby hollered into the living room, “Mom, Mom, I’m going over to Jonah Delacourt’s house to play.”
By the time Thane stepped to the door, he realized why Bobby had to yell. The volume on the television was cranked up so loud it was almost deafening. From the doorway he took in the room and the female form sprawled on the sofa.
“’Bout time you got home. You know what Brent Cody said last night…” The woman’s voice trailed off when her eyes landed on Thane. She unrolled herself from the couch and said, “Who’s this? What have you done now?”
Thane held out his hand, introduced himself. “And that’s my son, Jonah, standing on the porch. I was one of the men who went looking for Bobby last night. I thought he might like to get to know Jonah better, one on one, that way Bobby might stop picking on him at school. Is your husband around? I’d like to talk to him if he is.”
“Already left for work. You want Bobby to come over to your house for real? You should know he can be a handful.”
“That’s boys for you, always into something.”
“You’re the one opening that pizza joint on the corner, right?”
“That’s me.”
“You used to play for the Jets, didn’t you?”
“Giants,” Thane said with a grimace, and correcting the woman with a grin. “Big difference.”
“Okay. Sure. I guess it’ll be okay. Bobby, do you have homework to do?”
“Did it already.”
“Then sure, I guess. But you be back in time for supper though,” she told Bobby as he flew out the door to where Jonah stood keeping the dogs in hand. “You be good,” she shouted to her son’s back. “I don’t want Mr. Delacourt telling me you gave him trouble, you hear me? Boy never listens.”
“I’ll see that he’s back home on time,” Thane said, heading out the door on Bobby’s heels.
Once outside on the sidewalk, Thane directed each of the boys to take a dog leash and watched as they sprinted ahead, the pups scurrying beside them.
As soon as they reached the house, Thane swung the door open. What had been a romantic, quiet rendezvous point only hours earlier at lunch turned into a world of bedlam.
The dogs skidded across the floor with their nails clicking. Jonah tossed his backpack on the bench in the entryway with a thud while Bobby took a tour of the living room filled with excited chatter. While Bobby marveled at the slew of sports trophies and photographs lining the wall of Thane with celebrities, Jonah acted like it was all no big deal.
Thane offered the standard milk and cookies and Jonah’s personal favorite, the peanut butter ones Max made at the Diner. While the boys climbed up on the bar stools at the island and dug into the treats, Thane kept an ear on the conversation. He wasn’t stupid. He realized Bobby was light years from Jonah in worldly knowledge and devious cunning, especially after the language tossed around on the playground. To Thane the boy acted as if he had a pent-up temper flowing just under the surface. For that reason, he had no intentions of leaving them unsupervised for longer than a few minutes. But if he could get the kid to open up about what was making him so angry, he might be able to keep Bobby from picking on other kids, namely his own.
“Wanna take turns playing Angry Birds on my iPad?” Jonah asked, stuffing his mouth with a glob of gooey dough.
“Nah, let’s play Legos. I like to build stuff.”
In the great room, Thane supervised their play without butting in, letting them roughhouse with the blocks as boys do.
From out of the blue, Bobby picked up a photograph sitting on the end table and asked, “Who’s that in the picture?”
“That’s my mom.”
Bobby glanced over with a hang-dog look on his face. “I’m sorry I said those mean things about her. She looks nice…and pretty.”
“I never knew her,” Jonah admitted as he crashed into the tower of blocks he’d built and sat back as the whole thing tumbled down around him. “She died like my Mimi did.”
“My sister died.”
“You had a sister?” Jonah asked.
“Yeah, she came down with a disease and died when I was in kindergarten. It made my parents fight all the time.”
Ah, there’s hope yet, decided Thane. As he listened to the two boys go back and forth it occurred to him that Bobby was simply acting out in response to the negativity going on at home. If only death and misfortune didn’t have to touch those so very young, thought Thane.
Because he couldn’t wait to tell Isabella the turn of events, he sent her a text message.
In the back room at the museum, Isabella was knee deep in Chumash pottery when her cell phone dinged from inside the depths of her handbag. She dug it out, and read Thane’s words.
I think I found out why Bobby’s parents fight.
Why?
They lost a child. They’re very unhappy together.
Sounds
like a reasonable explanation. But their anger is obviously affecting Bobby in the wrong way.
I feel sorry for the kid.
Me too.
Are you ready for that replay? For good measure, he thumbed on a smiley face.
Bring it on. But make sure it’s your A game.
Good thing I’m an A game kinda guy. He added another smiley face.
Gotta get back to work. See you tonight. Btw, thanks for the flowers.
My pleasure. I’ll have dinner waiting. Any requests?
A repeat of earlier is fine with me. Hard to do with Jonah, I know.
But that’s what I wanted to hear.
Isabella gave herself a minute to steady her heart. About that time River walked into the room, startling her back to reality, a reality that headlined one sad fact. She was way out of her league with a man like Thane Delacourt.
“I need help finding tables for the restaurant,” Thane mentioned over the Swiss steak dinner he’d thrown together with a side of rice. “Ryder says there’s a place south of town before the cutoff to San Sebastian. Will you go with me this weekend to check it out?”
Isabella smiled. “Sure. But you should know ahead of time that I have this thing for sturdy, solid wood tables, like country French.”
He made a face. “Is that the ornate stuff with the curvy legs?”
“Cabriolet. That’s what they’re called. And no, I’m not talking about French provincial. What I like is the farmhouse look, a table with a trestle and an attractive skirt. A lot of the time the design includes tables with drawers and clever knobs.”
“Are we still talking about tables?”
She rolled her eyes. “I am. I’m not sure what you’re imagining.”
“Why not just use surfboards for tables?” Jonah asked his mouth full of rice. “You can eat off one. I’ve seen surfers at the beach eating their lunch on top of their boards.”
Izzy looked over at the boy and contemplated his visionary use of fiberglass, considered how they could make it work. “Wow, that’s not a bad idea at all. You know that side wall you have, the one with no windows. What if you took a longboard and used it like a counter, affixed it to the wall? You could put bar stools underneath and you’d easily get four more seats.”
Thane’s lips curved up. “I’m surrounded by geniuses. I bow to the superior decorator’s intellect.”
Izzy held up her hand to Jonah for a high five. “We rock our superior decorator intellect, don’t we?”
“Yeah, we rock!” Jonah said tapping her palm in reply. “I want to eat my pizza at the surfboard counter.”
Thane picked up his glass of cabernet. “I’ll have to ask Troy if it’s doable. If it is, I like the idea of continuing the surfing theme on that bare wall, not to mention the novelty of it.”
They went over the details while scrubbing pots and pans and loading the dishwasher. They got down to basic accessory ideas, like fixtures and paint,. While they worked and talked, Jonah played outside with Jax and Jazz until it got too dark to see. He came in sweaty and smelling like puppies.
One whiff and Thane said, “You need a bath. Bad.”
“I want Izzy to read me a story.”
“Afterward. You can’t go to bed smelling like that.”
Getting Jonah in the bathtub and then getting him in pajamas was Thane’s job. Hers was to read the boy a bedtime story and tuck him in, kiss him goodnight while Thane called Troy to discuss the feasibility of the counter idea. So she delved into the world where fairies and pixies made their home in a magical woodland that reached all the way to the clouds. Jonah fell asleep before she got to the “happy ever after” part. Leaning over him, she placed a kiss on his brow, pulled up the covers and went in search of Thane.
She found him sitting on the sofa finishing off the bottle of wine with the dogs curved around his feet. He’d taken off his shoes, propped his long legs and feet up on the coffee table.
“Those dogs are as worn out as Jonah was. I didn’t even get to the end of the story before he conked out.”
He smiled at her, patted the seat next to him. “I love this time of night. Just listen to that,” he said. “Peace. Quiet.”
She laughed, sat down next to him, took the glass of wine out of his hand. “You’ve done an amazing job with Jonah. You should probably know, I think I’ve fallen for your son.” She sipped the cabernet, draped the other hand around his neck, following that up with a nip to his jaw. “And his father has these incredible blue eyes that just draw me in, make me want to do things I usually don’t think of doing.”
“I like the sound of that.” Toying with her lips, he took her under in a deliberate play of tag and tongue. Tender persuasion led to him cupping a breast, fondling the shape and curve.
“This time when I make love to you I’ll do it in a bed,” he promised as he got to his feet, led her down the hallway to his bedroom. He shut the door, went over and took out his iPad, thumbed through his playlist. The violin strings of Vivaldi sailed from the speaker.
“Who would’ve thought you were a fan of classical?” Isabella said as she started to undress.
“After today, I’m a fan of you.” He eyed the way she took her time undoing each button on her blouse letting it drape seductively from her hand before falling to the floor. She undid her bra, reveling in the reaction on his face.
The urge to touch those breasts was too great. He pressed against her as she started shimmying out of the skirt. Running first one finger along the rim of the lacy panties then using two, he ripped them off in one yank.
She returned the favor by gripping his shirt, jerking it down his arms, helped him get rid of his pants. She angled, pushed him back on the mattress and sprawled on top. A gradual glide up his body had her fisting her fingers in his hair. Drawn to his mouth, she fused her lips to his.
They feasted, groped, then rolled, changed positions, rolled again, bringing her back on top. They bumped. She rode. Bodies locked in blinding speed with one thought in mind.
Pleasure ratcheted up as they headed into a dazzling halo of light. The room seemed to shake like a rocket racing headlong toward the sun.
They built to eruption like the first steam in a volcano before lava burst to the surface. The heady rush had their hearts pounding.
She went lax, draped herself onto his body.
Neither one moved. They lay spent, exhausted, the smell of sweaty sex lingering in the air.
“Just so you know, I’m a big fan of the replay,” she whooshed out.
“Duly noted for future reference. You just keep getting better.”
“Imagine that.”
When he was able to get his breath back, he reversed their positions, shifted to bring her body into his. From above he looked down at her, tugged at her lips. “You are beautiful, you know that?”
“So are you.”
“That’s a first. I’m not sure anyone’s ever called me beautiful before.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. Your ego’s big enough without adding to it.”
He ran a long, lean finger down to her silky thigh and then on to her calf. Spotting the ink on her ankle, he brought her leg up so he could make out the design. “What’s this? I missed that this afternoon. You have a tattoo. Interesting, a four-leaf clover with two crossed swords in the middle. Not exactly the usual choice you pick right out of the catalogue.”
“It’s…special…personal.”
“How special? How personal?”
“Something between…two…very old friends.”
“I have something special for you between two new friends. Wanna see what it is?”
She giggled and rolled over him. “Don’t you need like twenty minutes to ‘recover’?”
“Probably. But there are so many things I want to do to you it’ll take me that long to get around to all of them.”
“Sounds promising. You’d better show me what you mean so I won’t miss one.”
“No problem. Good thing I’m detai
l-oriented.”
Chapter Fifteen
Saturday morning they found the Cleef Atkins place among the gentle rolling hills sloped toward San Sebastian. The farm itself went on and on for acres and acres over a messy jungle of junk. The bumpy pavement gave way to a field of golden, blooming fennel. A patch of carob trees became home to old Chevys and tractor tires, long put out to pasture and a slew of broken, discarded furniture that had seen better days.
“Wow! Look at all this stuff!” Jonah exclaimed from the backseat.
As soon as the three of them got out of the car an old man appeared, walking through the wildflowers that grew among knee-high thistle and purple milkweed. He had to be in his late eighties.
“You the people looking for tables.”
“That’s us,” Thane said, making the introductions.
“Got quite a few to choose from, any particular kind?”
“Not really as long as they’re sturdy and durable.”
The true hidden treasures were found inside the barn. Isabella spotted a fifteen-foot outdoor theater marquee and rows of auditorium-style seats. Thane noticed a stack of tables that looked as though they’d been used in a restaurant.
“Those came from the old inn located south of here. It used to be out on the main road that went to Scotts Valley. But when the county built the alternate route, the hotel was forced to close down. That was in the late ’70s,” Cleef recalled.
“These are nice,” Thane said running his hand across the dusty top. “They’d be ideal for re-sanding and repurposing, don’t you think?”
Instead of answering, one glimpse at Jonah climbing up a tower of weathered lumber, nails poking out of the wood had Isabella rushing over in that direction. “Uh, Thane…should Jonah be up here like this?”
He followed her eyes and let out a warning. “Jonah, get down!”
Hustling over, Isabella managed to grab the boy just as he teetered and lost his balance.
“I’m not sure four pairs of eyes are enough to keep an eye on him all the time,” Thane said. “Thanks.”
“No problem. That was close though.” She turned her attention to the stockpile of tables, all different sizes and lengths. “If it were me I’d avoid the commercial ones from the inn, stick with these made out of solid wood.” She went over to examine one. “See, this has a decent support skirt and this one has a sturdy apron. Both would be an asset when Troy puts on the surfboard tops that will add weight.”
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