by Anna Adams
“Okay.” He wanted to ask her what had happened, if her grandsons were in trouble again. But he thought of how Lydia would react if he volunteered his services. “Drive carefully,” Josh said, feeling ridiculous. The woman looked as if she might fall apart.
“Thanks. It’s a relief seeing you. I’m going to remember that troubled young men can become responsible citizens.” She opened her car door. “But damn it, you were determined and self-directed. My boys are—oh, never mind.”
He tried to let her go, but he’d seen too many people in her state of despair. He and his own sister had been as frightened. And no one had come to their rescue. “Can I help you?”
She shook her head, her mouth tight. He watched her get into her car. She had to know someone trustworthy who could help her. He hadn’t come here to fix anything except his marriage.
But she backed away and he felt as if he were deserting a woman in need.
“You know those grandsons of hers are in trouble again.”
His mother stood at his elbow.
“I think so, too.”
“I thought you might offer to talk to them.”
“I considered, but I’m here for Lydia.” He looked back at the café. “Did you lock the door?”
“Yeah, but I hated to leave. It feels like my place already.” She went to his car. “Maybe I should suggest Geraldine talk to an attorney here in town.”
“That would be a good idea, Mom, but first she has to admit something’s wrong.”
“That’s a problem.”
“While you try to solve it, let’s go by the courthouse and see what we can find out about the title to Barker’s café. I’d like to know if there’ve been any disputes over the property in the past.”
“And you thought I was just using you.”
“Don’t kid yourself. A title search is expensive. You’re getting a bargain in me.”
RAINS CAME AGAIN the next day. Lydia woke to find Josh dressing, not in jeans and his paint-spattered shirt, but in a suit.
“I didn’t know you brought that,” she said.
He turned, knotting his tie. “I made an appointment to talk to Brice.”
She sat up, tucking the sheets around herself. “Why do you need to talk to your boss?”
Josh came to the bed. “To tell him I’m quitting,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m not backing down.”
“I didn’t doubt you.”
“Sure you did, but I don’t blame you.”
She pulled his hand to her cheek, trying to believe in this more attentive, forgiving version of Josh. “You’re going to stay this way even if we work things out and stay together?”
He stepped back. “I thought we’d already agreed to stay together and work things out.”
“Try not to get angry.” So uncertain of each other, they were both touchy. “I’m afraid.”
“You won’t ever have to be again.”
She tugged him down and brushed his lips with her fingers. “I’m afraid of losing you.”
“You won’t ever have to be again.” He opened her mouth with his, and she tasted his toothpaste. She tasted passion that felt new and wondrous, but too fragile.
“I’d better go.” He rose, his eyes disturbed, his breathing rushed. “Take it easy today.”
“You, too.”
He shut the door and she laughed. Only two people who cared deeply about each other could be so inane.
THE DRIVE to Hartford took less time than usual. Josh found Brice and Brenda in his office, already going through the files.
As soon as Brice saw him, he signaled for Brenda to return to her office. He sat in Josh’s chair, leaving the client’s chair for Josh.
“Morning,” Brice said.
“You’ve been busy.”
“You wanted this to go fast.”
The faster the better. He felt a certain amount of guilt. “I’d like to finish off the cases that are close to trial.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You don’t want to hear you’re making a mistake?”
“I’m not.”
“Who made you an offer? Which firm finally lured you out of here?”
“I don’t have another job. I told you the truth. I’m leaving because Lydia doesn’t feel safe anymore, and I’d like to make a fresh start with her in a place that doesn’t have our memories here.”
“We caught the woman.”
“Brice, has the job made you cold-blooded? Nothing the D.A. could ever do to Vivian Durance would make Lydia forget what happened. Why do I have to tell you that?”
“Because what happened is a shame, but it’s part of life. Are you going to run every time your wife gets spooked?”
“I’m going to do what it takes to make my wife happy.” He felt like an idiot saying it, but maybe this was his penance for taking her for granted.
“You’d better straighten out your priorities, buddy.”
“I have.” Now that felt good. He’d been a job-first kind of guy—so much so that Brice Dean felt comfortable treating him as a like-minded clod. Now he was a husband, and someday, he’d be a father. Josh reached for the top file on the teetering pile. “Might as well start with this one.”
LYDIA FOUND A SKETCHPAD deep in Josh’s closet. She would have preferred graph paper, but this would do. In the kitchen she rummaged through the drawers until she found a pencil with a good eraser.
Fortified by a cup of cocoa and an unexpected sunny splash of late-afternoon heat on the kitchen table, she began to sketch. A house. The home she’d dreamed of all her life.
Three fireplaces—the predictable one in the family room—but Lydia added another in the kitchen and a last one in the main bedroom. She could imagine that room, large enough for the oversized, antique bed she’d found before she’d ever met Josh. They’d paint the walls a soft, warm blue and add pale drapes that offered privacy but never blocked out the sun or moonlight.
She gave in to the ideas flooding her, an office for Josh, a sewing room for her, bookshelves built into the walls on a large landing with room for two fat chairs and a table between them.
A playroom for the children she still longed for. A home that would keep her family close.
As she pushed the pad away to admire her work, reality stepped in. Dreaming might be a mistake. She and Josh still hadn’t discussed the future, but she’d walked the newly mown headland, clothed in an old raincoat and happiness after Josh left to resign.
Walking on the headland always gave her ideas about what could be. She’d fended them off in the past, knowing Josh would never consider inhabiting a “compound” with his parents.
But today, so close to freedom from fear and memories that hurt too much to contemplate, she couldn’t resist an act of optimism. And no one ever had to know about her daydream.
The house continued to appear, as if she’d been drawing it in her head for years. She had. A Cape Cod, bigger than this one, modified to include four bedrooms, because she and Josh had always talked about a large family. And those children would always want a home to return to.
“Nice.”
She jumped, and Bart put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but I’ve never seen an architect work.”
“This isn’t a blueprint, just a few sketches.” She sipped her cocoa. “I thought you were on the boat.”
“I came back early. The benefit of being your own boss. No word from Josh yet?”
“Did you expect him to call? He has a lot of cases to turn over to Dean.” She sat straighter. “You’re not going out there to paint alone?”
“No. It’s too late, and with all this rain, I’m thinking of hiring a guy who knows how to use a sprayer anyway. I need to work on the boat for a few days in a row.” He peered around the room as if he could see through walls and ceilings. “Evelyn’s not home yet either?”
She’d left just after lunch. “I haven’t heard from her. I think she’s still trying to get information out of Geraldine, but
Geraldine’s afraid of me.”
“You went for a walk in the rain?”
“I was restless.” She couldn’t tell him she was celebrating.
Smiling, Bart turned the notepad. “I can see this on the headland.”
“Me, too.” But Josh wouldn’t share their enthusiasm.
“I won’t tell Josh.”
She shut the pad. “You know him too well.”
“I do.” He sat in the chair opposite hers and reached across the table to pat her hand. “I’m sorry I was so cranky last night. I get that way when I’m worried. If it’s any consolation, I probably owe my son an apology, too.”
“That’s family, I guess, taking it out on each other. We’re all tense.” She set her pencil beside the paper.
“Does Josh know about that at all?” He pointed.
She searched for a flip answer. None came. She wanted to live in a place like his hometown, and she was beginning to want it too much. “He has no idea.”
“He has a right to know what you want.” Suddenly impatient with himself, Bart pushed back his chair. “Here I go again, beating you about the head and shoulders with so-called wisdom. I don’t like apologizing so I’m going out to the barn. I can usually find some work out there.”
“Forget it, Bart. I don’t always mind advice.” She went to the fridge. “I should see what we have for dinner. Josh and Evelyn may be out all day.”
“He wants your marriage to work. Do you know how much he loves you?”
She started, vaguely aware of a lettuce leaf hanging over the crisper drawer and a small dish of sour cream rocking, because she’d jerked her hand away at Bart’s declaration. She should know how Josh felt. His quitting was a message she needed, but she still needed more. “You’re doing it again.” She tried to make a joke.
“It wasn’t advice—more a statement of fact my son doesn’t seem capable of making.”
How could Bart and Evelyn be so sure of Josh’s feelings? “Look—pork chops.”
“And it’s obviously what you need to hear more than anything else.”
His interference shocked her. She didn’t see Bart thinking so deeply about his son and her and their marriage. And she didn’t want him saying such things to Josh. This was her battle—with her husband. For once, she was the one who’d resent his parents if they didn’t stop trying to help so much.
Bart saw her impatience. “I’ll be outside. That should keep me from talking.”
“I’m not asking you to go away,” she said, “just to give us room.”
“And I’m trying to tell you that you’re as much my daughter as Josh is my son. Evelyn and I love you both. Spending so much time together, I thought I could tell you.”
She touched his shoulder. “You didn’t have to. I’ve always known.” She turned away, self-conscious. “You want to help me with dinner?” She opened the crisper and found carrots and celery, broccoli and onions and two different kinds of squash. “If I chop up these vegetables, will you grill them, Bart? Oh, look, there’s an eggplant, too.”
“I’ll chop. You sit. Josh and Evelyn won’t like me putting you to work in the kitchen.” He scooped the vegetables out of her arms and laid them on the counter behind a large blue cutting board.
“I’m fine, and there’s room for both of us.”
Bart lit the grill outside and ran back in, shivering. “Man, it’s turned cold out there.”
“Too cold? I can stir fry.”
“I’ll put on a jacket. Let me run up and get one that doesn’t smell like fish. Josh likes grilled, and Evelyn may have something to celebrate. Let’s give them both a treat.”
As he went upstairs, Lydia glanced at the clock and considered calling Josh. He was probably stuck in traffic. And Evelyn—she must be negotiating the real estate contract of a lifetime.
Bart came back down, his thermal shirtsleeves rolled up, prepared to work. He draped his coat over a chair. He and Lydia were chopping in companionable silence when the front door opened and Josh and his mother came in.
“You’ve been together?” Bart asked.
Lydia studied her husband’s face for some hint of Brice Dean’s response. What if he’d managed to persuade Josh to stay?
“We met outside,” Evelyn said.
Josh took in the scene, her working beside his father. He snatched a piece of broccoli and crunched it between his teeth. “What’s going on here? I know it’s trite, but you two make me wish I had a camera.”
Lydia nudged Bart. “I was hoping to hear a little sarcasm when they came back, weren’t you?” She glanced at Josh, impatient for a clue. “So I started this and then I put your dad to work.”
He laughed. Evelyn took his coat out of his hand. “I’ve hardly ever managed to. Put Bart together with the kitchen tools, I mean. Not that he doesn’t have a talent.” Evelyn hung the coats in the mudroom. “You’d better get used to this, Bart. You’ll have to help if you want to eat once I’m working out of the house.”
“Did you get the building?” Lydia had caught Evelyn’s excitement over the business and the café.
“I’ll know tonight or tomorrow.” She rested her hand on her tall husband’s neck and tugged him down for a kiss. “So you’d better fit yourself for a manly apron.”
Josh laughed. “Won’t the rubber one he uses on the boat work?”
“He’s not bringing that thing in my house,” Evelyn said. “Mmm, what are we doing here?”
Josh washed his hands and then drew a knife out of the block and nudged Lydia. “Out of my way. I’ll take over.”
“If I can traipse all over town, I’m fine to chop a few vegetables, assuming I don’t add my inexpert fingers to the mix. Evelyn, we’re having grilled vegetables and pork chops and jasmine rice.”
“How’d it go in town?” Bart asked.
Thank God someone had. She was so eager, she’d dreaded looking triumphant.
Josh slotted his knife into the eggplant. “Fine. No problems, though I don’t have an end date yet.” He looked at Lydia. “We should have talked this over, but I’d like to finish the cases I’ve brought to trial.”
“I understand that. You can’t walk out on those clients. But what happened? Was Brice upset?”
“He wasn’t pleased.” Josh sliced the eggplant without looking up. “He suggested I should straighten out my priorities.”
“Your priori—” She broke off, full of righteous indignation. “Isn’t that what I was begging you to do as well?”
“Bart, we should—find somewhere else to be,” Evelyn said.
“No, Mother, it’s okay.” Josh whacked away on the eggplant and reached for another, imperturbable. “I told him I had set my priorities, and we went through my caseload.”
“And that’s it?” Lydia asked, not daring to believe.
“I quit my job. We have to decide where we’re going next. We’re starting completely over.” The phone rang behind them. “If that’s Brice, I’m busy.”
Lydia laughed. “So he’s not letting you go without a fight?”
“He said I’d be hearing from him as he went through my notes.”
“I’ll tell him you’re not home yet.” Evelyn picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“I didn’t ask you to lie, Mother,” Josh said.
She waved him off. “Simon, she already told you she didn’t see those boys well enough to know—” She turned away. “And I’m afraid you can’t insist. Josh knows our rights.”
She started to hang up the phone. Before Lydia’s eyes, Josh turned into what he was, a defense attorney with an eye for the big picture. He caught his mother’s arm.
“Don’t. It’s a game.” He took the phone. “What do you need, Simon?” He listened for a moment, and a frown creased a line above his nose. “How many of them? All the way down the boardwalk?” He nodded. “Not at all. She’s never even met them.” Another silence. “Okay, we’ll come over, but I don’t expect Lydia will give you a different answer just because you show he
r the boys up close.”
He put the phone back. His gaze wary, he faced Lydia. “I’m afraid if you don’t go down there now, he’ll think you’re trying to hide something. He asked me how well you know Mitch and Luke.”
“I’m starting to get sick of their names.” She ran her hands under the water in the sink. “Or, rather, what I may be forced to say about them.”
“No.” Josh washed his hands, too. “If you don’t feel certain, you stick to your guns. You can’t identify them.”
“I know.”
He turned to his mother. “I don’t know when we’ll be back. Don’t wait on dinner.”
“Shouldn’t we go with you?”
Josh grinned. “Lydia’s capable of telling the truth without a posse behind her, Mom.”
“I’m not talking breaking her out of jail. I’m suggesting family support.”
“That would look ludicrous,” Bart said. “I’m sorry you’ve gotten involved in this, Lydia. It’s obviously unsettling.”
“But probably a beneficial lesson in what Josh faces everyday.” Lydia dried her hands and dragged her fingers through her hair. “I’m ready. What is Simon looking to pin on those kids now?”
“You’re suspicious.” Josh stood back for her at the mudroom door. She grabbed her coat, and he helped her on with it. “Someone hammered all the parking meters on the boardwalk last night. He thinks with a baseball bat.”
“Wood against metal? Seems like much ado about nothing.”
“Metal and glass,” Josh said. “Some of the meters lost the battle, and the bat seems like the Dawsons’ weapon of choice if they’re the ones you saw.”
“I’m dreading this.”
“This is nothing. Either you know it’s them, or you don’t.”
He kept repeating it, but she needed to keep hearing she didn’t have to guess.
At the police station, Simon met them at the door. He came down the front steps. “We’re not a high-tech department. We don’t have a two-way mirror, so you’re going to walk into a room and take a look at Luke and Mitch and tell me if they could be the boys you saw.”