“No.” Heaven help him if he had to raise those girls in that house.
“When it’s cool, I can sit out here all night.” Takata’s voice was smoke roughened and oddly hypnotic. “That’s when I miss your dad most.”
The old man was one of the few people in town who talked about Slade’s father without speculating aloud why he’d committed suicide, or, worse, avoided mention of him at all. Takata treated what happened with an acceptance that was oddly similar to Nate’s reaction when he’d dropped off the skunk-removal supplies.
“Your father would sneak out the back after you and your mother went to bed, and we’d sit out here smoking cigars. He liked people and he liked to talk.” Takata took a big drag off the cigar. “He came less frequently after your mom passed. And then not at all after the explosion at the mill. Daniel didn’t want anything to do with a match after that...or people.”
The novelty of the smoke wore off. Slade felt nauseous. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You seem to be the only one who remembers him.” It was the way Slade tried to remember him.
Growing up, Slade and his father had been close. His dad coached his Little League team, and later, his school baseball and basketball teams up until his mother died. Like Slade’s twins, he and his dad had been able to look at each other across the room and know what the other was thinking. They’d fished together and watched sports together, sharing a special bond that Slade hadn’t seen his friends have with their dads.
Until his mother died. Until the mill exploded.
At sixteen, his dad became a stranger, a man who had little interest in Slade other than to warn him of impending doom. Their relationship disintegrated. Back then, it’d been a relief to be accepted to Harvard, a reprieve to land a job on Wall Street four years later. For the first time in years, Slade had money to spare and no one bringing him down.
Guilt pierced his chest. When Slade looked into his father’s eyes that last time, he’d had no hint of what was coming. Failure drove the shard deeper. Slade rubbed a spot over his heart and tried not to feel anything. “I should never have left. I could have saved him.”
“How? By arguing with his certainty that he was going to die soon? Or that civilization was going to collapse? Or that whatever you loved or were excited about was short-lived?” Takata scoffed.
“But I—”
“You couldn’t have done anything,” Takata spat. And then his tone softened. “You might have fallen under his spell eventually. He had charisma, even when his life drifted off the rails. Your father could convince a tiger he didn’t need his stripes.”
Slade took an instinctive step back.
How much does Takata know?
“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?” Takata’s eyes were in shadow, but Slade felt the man’s gaze upon him. “That your father checked out the way he did.”
Slade looked at his house, but said nothing, because the house ate away at him, like an angry ulcer. Even now, his gut was churning.
“I expected you to sell the house after it happened. Sell or set the place on fire.” He paused for a quick puff-puff. “I didn’t expect you to hold on to it. Or move back in.”
“I can’t sell.” The words were wrenched out of him against his better judgment.
“Means there’s unfinished business there.” He took a long drag from the cigar, then another. The end faded in and out like a beacon on a remote airport runway. “Never see the light on in his room at night.”
As if hypnotized, Slade’s gaze went to the master-bedroom windows. He clenched his fists. “I don’t go in there. No one goes in there.”
“I was a mortician for sixty years. I’ve seen grief in all its stages. And guilt in several more.” The hand holding the cigar drifted downward, hanging over the arm of his chair. “You’re still grieving. And you’ve got an unhealthy dose of guilt, as well.”
Slade’s hand drifted up to the knot at his throat, but he said nothing.
Takata’s eyes were dark, shadowy holes that sunk deep into his scowling face. “I was there that day, you know, working in the yard. I heard the screams. One of grief. One of horror.”
How much does the old man know?
Slade wanted to cover his ears with his hands, but it wouldn’t have done any good. His voice, Evy’s cry. He couldn’t erase them. Even if he closed his eyes, he couldn’t shut out the image of what he’d seen, of what he’d done afterward. But some wounds never healed.
He had to swallow twice before he could speak. And then the words sounded so inane. “Are you bowling tomorrow?”
Takata didn’t answer right away. He played on the mayor’s league team, which also had a weekly bowling date with Slade, his partners, and whoever they could pick up to round out their team. Slade’s preference was Will’s fiancée, Emma. That woman bowled near-perfect games every time. But she didn’t always have someone to stay with her grandmother at night.
“I expect I will play. It’s our turn to wipe the floor with you.” Takata chuckled. “You’d be a lot harder to beat if you opened that door upstairs. Just once. Downstairs windows don’t count.”
Several retorts came to mind, several disrespectful ones laced with a few choice cuss words about Takata minding his own business. Slade dismissed them all and headed for his house. Not directly, as that would have taken him across Takata’s lawn. He’d had his butt chewed out enough times as a kid to know you didn’t cut across Takata’s lawn unless someone had died.
He continued along the sidewalk, listening to the murmur of the twins’ voices drifting out the window. He felt as if he’d made more progress with them today. A few words. Some carefully guarded smiles. Half a hug.
He opened the front door. The living room was empty. The girls stood at the top of the stairs, each holding a short, glittering chain of gold. Their baby bracelets.
“Those are yours.” He kept them on his dresser, draped around the neck of a black Labrador figurine, one that looked like Chief, the dog he’d had as a kid. He wasn’t angry they’d found them. He didn’t lock his bedroom door and there was nothing in his room he had that he didn’t want them to see. It was natural for kids to poke around, and the master bedroom was locked up tight. “I bought them the day you were born so we could tell you apart.” The bright hospital lights. Evy’s happy, exhausted face. The future had seemed uncomplicated and bright. “It didn’t take long for us to be able to tell you apart.”
Faith draped hers across her wrist. It was far too short to circle around and close.
He smiled. “You’ve grown quite a bit since then. I like to look at those bracelets every morning when I wake up.” While he wondered what his daughters were doing. If they ever thought of him. If they missed him. The father they barely knew.
What a dreamer. The answer to that was clearly no, based on their behavior here.
“Why don’t we drive to the jewelry store tomorrow and get some new links put on them, so you can wear them...if you want?”
After a moment, Faith nodded.
And Grace smiled.
CHAPTER NINE
SLADE WAS UP with the summer sun—long before civilized people got out of bed. Coming downstairs, he faced a truth—maybe not the one Takata wanted him to face, but a truth nonetheless. His girls were slobs.
Dirty dishes littered the living room, dirty dishes crowded the center of the kitchen table, dirty dishes formed a pyramid along the kitchen counter, ready to tumble into the sink.
How could two little girls have created so much food-encrusted chaos? It wasn’t as if he had that much food in the house. He should have cleaned up last night instead of dragging his butt to bed after being confronted by Takata and his philosophical words of wisdom. No matter what Takata said, he wasn’t opening the door upstairs. Ever.
But he was taking the girls shopping. And
Grace had smiled. It made cleaning up their mess downstairs easier.
Slade picked up dish after dish and set them to soak in the sink. He wiped down the coffee tables and the kitchen table. He scrubbed at some kind of spill on the kitchen floor.
And every time he paused, he checked the time.
Six-fifteen.
Six-thirty.
Six forty-five.
Christine would be heading out toward the town’s river park for her yoga session with Mayor Larry. Was she aware he’d be naked? Was she going to be naked?
He didn’t want to know.
Really.
Because discovery meant risking an image he didn’t want burned into his memory again.
The worst way to start a man’s day was to round the bend on the river path and see Mayor Larry doing a yoga pose in the buff.
But if Christine was in the buff...
She wouldn’t.
But she might be unknowing, ambushed and flustered.
That would be worth seeing. The thought made him grin. Other than his daughters, not so many things did lately.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” Slade called upstairs as he went out the door.
He could see the town square from his front porch. The large, noble oak spread its branches in the center of the square. A few months ago, it had been diseased. Its prognosis grim. Will had brought in a specialist, who swore the tree wasn’t a lost cause. All the residents who’d received marriage proposals beneath the tree were relieved.
Slade couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. It was just a tree. Trees died, like everything else.
“Morning.” Takata sat out on his front porch on his lounge chair, his greeting just as startling as it had been last night.
Slade paused. “Did you sleep out here?” It looked as if he was wearing the same cargo shorts.
“Young people always leap to conclusions.” Takata gestured he come closer. “Give me a hand up, will you?”
In the morning light, Slade could see the dirt-filled planter he used as an ashtray and how his gray hair had that bed-head quality in back. “You did sleep out here last night.”
“As if I haven’t seen you sleeping on your chaise longue.” The old man grunted as he tried to leverage himself to a standing position.
Slade steadied Takata and helped him to the front door. “The difference is that I can go in at any time. Can you?”
“You don’t know squat.”
Slade was afraid the two of them knew far too much about each other.
“You didn’t turn on the light in Daniel’s bedroom last night. I watched.”
“Like I need to.” Just the thought sent a shiver up his spine.
“You do.” Takata closed the screen door and locked it behind him. “Don’t come in. I’ve got it.”
“You’re welcome,” Slade said under his breath as he hustled down the walk.
He hurried through the town square and along Main Street. Years ago he’d worked as a stock boy at the now-empty grocery store. He gazed in as he passed the crumbling brick front. He’d learned valuable lessons about life in that store. You had to constantly put the effort in to get ahead, and even then, something would happen to set you back.
He turned a corner and crossed over to Adams. Flocks of birds lived by the river, swooping and singing to one another, a chirpy good-morning chorus. He’d never understood what birds were so happy about all the time.
He entered the park. There was the bench where he’d stolen his first kiss. There was the merry-go-round his mother pushed him on until he was dizzy and couldn’t stop laughing. There was the path that led down to the river. The same one he and his father used to take to go fly-fishing every spring.
Slade’s feet stopped moving. He didn’t want to be in the park. Not with the memories or the images or the inevitable feeling of failure.
Then he heard Christine’s laugh and a throaty male voice ask, “Can we try that again?”
With only a heartbeat of hesitation, Slade’s feet moved. In twenty paces, he’d be able to see them.
Christine’s voice and laughter grew louder. “This is twisted.”
Ten feet.
“Be like the eagle.” Mayor Larry’s voice.
And there they were. Both fully clothed.
Tension Slade hadn’t realized was between his shoulder blades loosened.
Larry wore short-shorts and no shirt. For a guy in his seventies, he was healthy and toned. Christine wore long black yoga pants and a pink clingy tank top. Her hair was in a high ponytail, straight blond tresses hanging down her back.
They both stood on one leg with their free leg wrapped around the standing leg and their arms entwined in front of their chests. It sort of looked as if they had to go to the bathroom and were trying to hold it.
Slade chuckled.
They hardly wavered as their bare feet hit the dirt.
“Slade, come join us.” Despite blocking the winery, Mayor Larry was always friendly, hence his eight terms in office.
Christine shot Slade a look that seemed to say, Really? You’re checking up on me?
He hadn’t been worried about her. It was pure curiosity. “I don’t have the flexibility for yoga.”
“What are you doing out here so early?” Christine didn’t pull her punches. “Where are the girls?”
“Probably eating cereal in front of the television in their pajamas.” Think fast, man. Why am I here? “I was wondering if you had time in your schedule to go pick out furniture for the farmhouse. Tables and chairs for the tasting room and patio.” Nice save. She’d had those items on the purchasing proposal he’d signed off on last night.
Christine’s expression brightened. “That would be great. I’d love to get that taken care of before the bigger equipment is delivered.”
Slade arranged to pick her up after lunch and made his retreat, dignity still intact.
It wasn’t until he was strolling past the empty grocery store, replaying Christine’s laughter in his head, that he realized he was grinning.
And realized he had no right to be.
* * *
“FABULOUS DRESSES, GIRLS,” Christine said as she climbed into the passenger seat of Slade’s truck.
And they were fabulous, smacking of designer chic—soft pink ruffled bodices, lemon-green skirts with pockets, black headbands in their straight black hair, pink sequined Mary Janes with lemon-green bows.
Christine’s gaze turned to Slade and his loud blue polka-dot tie. “Fabulous tie.” He’d been wearing it that morning.
His gaze landed on her neon green plastic flip-flops. He was unsuccessful at concealing a smile. “You couldn’t liberate a pair of Italian sandals from a box?”
“I sealed up the boxes and put them in the garage, next to my grandfather’s fishing gear.” She extended her toes closer to the floor fan that blew out cold air. “It’s rather sad putting them away like that, but it’s for the best.”
He gave her an indecipherable sideways look that said volumes about her keeping her shoes.
It was definitely time to lighten the mood. “You brought your platinum credit card, right? I had fantasies about spending your money all morning long.” Her overactive imagination had tried to fantasize about other things, like Slade’s perfect lips test-driving her own, but thoughts like that were career ending, so she’d stuck with the thrill of a cash register beeping.
Clearly bored with the conversation, the girls put on headphones and started watching a movie from a screen that came down from the ceiling just behind Christine’s seat.
“I know why you came to the park this morning,” Christine said. What a bluff that was. First thought when she saw him, instantly rejected? A bit of male possessiveness. Me, Tarzan. You, Jane. She
couldn’t shake the expression on his face when he saw her in her black swan evening gown. But who was she kidding? Slade was her boss. To him, she was an investment of his time and money.
Second thought, instantly accepted? He knew Mayor Larry did naked yoga and wanted to see if she bared herself. Not that he wanted a peep show. It was more likely that sly sense of humor Slade had was looking for an opening, questioning whether or not she knew Mayor Larry did naked yoga, guessing she’d be embarrassed and he’d bear witness.
“Really?” He pulled onto the two-lane highway leading to civilization.
“Yep. When you’re a female winemaker in a mostly male wine-making world, you learn quickly how to spot a setup.” She poked his shoulder with one finger. “You knew about Mayor Larry’s naked yoga and you were hoping I didn’t.”
Slade’s stoic expression was almost unreadable. He’d be a deadly competitor in a poker game. His face gave little away—anger, disappointment, and, sadly for her, male interest. But there was a crack, a lightning flash of a dimple like Faith’s—here, then gone.
She laughed. “You are so busted.”
“I admit nothing.”
They didn’t speak for several miles. Christine looked out the window at the fields of golden wild oats, tall corn, and the occasional untended vineyard. Plenty of land to buy if you had some extra millions lying around. “If you guys are all millionaires, why do you even have a budget?”
“We could be saving up to buy an island in the Caribbean.”
“Really?” Grace whispered from the backseat.
“No,” Slade said. “Go back to your movie, honey.”
When Slade didn’t explain, Christine prodded, “Aren’t you going to tell me why?”
He was paying far too much attention to the road, which was straight and empty. It took him too long to begrudgingly admit, “It’s a matter of principle.”
“Not telling me or the whole budget thing?” She liked ribbing him. He tried so hard to pretend she was an annoyance. Mostly, he failed.
But the topic must have been a sore spot, since Slade shot her a dark look. “A budget is a promise. People’s emotions get all tied up in their money. That’s why they go crazy when they get overcharged five bucks on their cable bill.”
Season of Change Page 11