The principal nodded. “Yes, of course. But given the physicality involved, I’m afraid the suspension still stands. Danny may return to school on Monday.” He buzzed the intercom on his desk to have Danny sent in.
Danny walked in, closing the door behind him. He saw Sam first and flashed a sheepish smile. When he noticed Chase, the smile vanished. He perched on the edge of a chair next to the door. While the principal reiterated their conversation, Sam noticed that Danny kept taking sidelong glances at Chase.
As soon as the principal finished, Chase stood up, extended his hand and said, “Thank you sir, for informing us about this matter. I’ll see that Danny’s letter is sent off right away.” Then he tapped Danny lightly on the shoulder, signaling him to stand.
Sam blurted a thank-you, as well, and followed Danny and Chase out of the office. When they reached the front door, Chase abruptly turned around and asked Danny if he needed to get anything from his classroom before leaving.
Danny’s sullen no was a surprise to Sam, who’d always seen a much spunkier side to the boy. Chase simply said, “Fine, then let’s get on our way.”
Once outside, he stopped again. “You’ve got two days before the weekend. I spoke to your mother yesterday about your coming to my place on Friday, staying for the weekend. However, given that you can’t go to school and your neighbor…” He paused, obviously forgetting her name.
“Minnie Schwartz,” mumbled Danny.
“Right. Anyway, it sounds as if she might need a break from, well, supervising you so—”
“I can stay by myself at our apartment. I’ve done it before,” blurted Danny. His face was red and he was frowning.
Sam couldn’t tell if he was on the verge of tears or an angry outburst.
Chase looked down at Danny’s bent head. “I don’t think so, Danny. That’s not an option.”
No one spoke until Sam couldn’t hold back any longer. “Actually I was wondering if Danny might want to come to my place. Or rather, my mother’s house. She told me she’d like to meet you and—”
Chase shot her a withering look. “Perhaps the three of us should grab some lunch and talk about the next step.”
Feeling foolish now, Sam said, “If you like. How about it, Danny?”
He shrugged.
Chase expelled a loud sigh. “Okay, lunch it is. There used to be a takeout burger place in the park at Greenlake. Not far from here. At any rate, I’m sure there’s some kind of fast-food place around the lake. Danny, why don’t you ride with Samantha? I’ll lead the way.” Without awaiting a reply from either of them, he headed for the pickup, climbed in and started the engine.
She shook her head, wondering why she’d come to the meeting only to have him very competently take charge. “C’mon, Danny.”
As she followed the truck out the driveway and onto the street, Danny said, “Sorry you had to come all this way, Sam. But that guy had it coming. He’s been bugging me for weeks.”
Sam glanced at the boy, slumped on the seat beside her. “It’s okay, Danny. I’m sorry you didn’t tell anybody about that boy if he’s been bullying you.”
“I tried to, but no one would listen,” he said, his voice rising. “Anyway, none of that matters anymore. I’m just sorry I made problems for my mom.”
Sam reached out a hand to pat his arm. “Your mom understands.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He turned his head to look out the window. After a moment, he said, “What do you think of him?” He jutted his chin to the windshield and the truck in front of them.
She had no idea what to say. The question was so similar to her mother’s she opted for a similar answer. “I’m not sure, to be honest. But I think if he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t have come to the meeting today.”
He thought about that. “Maybe. He’s probably pissed—sorry—ticked off about me. Maybe he’s even wondering how he can get out of, you know, the whole thing.”
He didn’t have to clarify what the “whole thing” was. And Sam didn’t have the courage to insist otherwise. Danny might be right.
As the truck pulled into a parking lot adjacent to a burger stand, Sam turned to him and said, “I meant what I said about meeting my mother, Danny. She’s a psychologist and knows a lot of people who are trained to counsel kids who…well, kids who…”
“Whose mothers are dying?”
She parked beside the truck and turned off the engine. “Kids who need to talk about their feelings. People need to do that, Danny. When they’re grieving.”
He raised his head, flicking back the hank of hair that seemed to perpetually droop across his forehead. “I’ll think about it,” he said, opened the door and got out.
Midweek, the park was virtually empty except for a few dog walkers and joggers. But the burger place was open. They took their orders to a picnic table under a tree and wolfed the food down silently. Danny finished first and, after tossing his refuse into a bin, wandered along the edge of the water. Hands in pockets and shoulders slumped, he seemed small and vulnerable against the larger backdrop of the lake.
“I sometimes forget he’s only twelve,” Sam said, watching him.
“It’s a pivotal year,” Chase said. “Once he’s a teenager, greater expectations and responsibilities will be heaped on him.”
He sounded so wistful Sam turned to him and asked, “Is that what happened to you?”
“How do you mean?”
She was startled by the suspicion in his voice. “Was more expected of you when you became a teenager?”
“There was more expected of me the instant I was born.”
Sam looked at him, caught by the bitterness in the reply, but he was staring off into the distance. Or into the past, she decided. Except for the scraps of information Skye had passed on, Sam knew little about his background. Scion of an old wealthy Seattle family. Hint of scandal or wrongdoing in the family business. Mother in exclusive nursing home. The only paradox in the whole mix was Chase himself.
Former motorcycle rider and current fine-furniture maker. Owner of beatup truck. Bearer of tattoo, now hidden under long sleeves. New father.
Not exactly the markings of a rebel, but Sam supposed that, set against where he came from, Chase Sullivan was a bit of an anomaly.
Her curiosity about him prompted her to ask, “I assume Greenwood is where Emily and Danny live, since his school is here. Is this where you were living and working when you met Emily thirteen years ago?”
“Yes,” he said, still gazing out at the lake and Danny. “She was working in a diner when I met her. I was working at a construction site nearby.”
Construction. Not the family business. She wanted to know more, but he abruptly stood up and said, “We should call Danny back and figure out where he’s going to be for the next few days.”
“I was talking to him about my mother on the way here,” Sam said. “Mom is a clinical psychologist and she might be able to refer Danny to someone. Just so he can talk about Emily and…and everything.” She felt suddenly nervous under his scrutiny.
Finally he said, “Yeah, that’d be good for him. He may not think he needs it now, but he will later.” He glanced at Danny, slowly walking toward their picnic table. “But I guess he’ll have to be the one to decide.”
“Yeah, I’ll leave it up to him—he has enough pressure right now.”
“For sure.”
The moment stretched between them and Sam felt an urge to fill it. “You were good with him, in the principal’s office. Setting the record straight about the other boy’s part in the fight. And you didn’t jump on Danny.”
He turned sharply from the lake to her. “I’d no right to jump on Danny. I may be his biological father, but I’ve yet to become the father he needs. Besides, if that had been me in Danny’s place, I’d have done the same thing.”
He flashed a smile that altered his whole face and Sam felt herself smiling back. When Danny reached them, they briefly discussed the next few days, finally agreeing that h
e would stay with Minnie until the end of the day on Friday and then go to Bainbridge with Chase for the weekend. Chase also suggested Danny ride home with him in the truck now, so that he could see where Danny lived, and the boy agreed. Reluctantly, it seemed to Sam.
“Don’t forget to call if you decide to take me up on my offer,” Sam reminded Danny as he was about to get into Chase’s truck. “You know, what we discussed on the way here,” she added at his frown.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he said. Then he grabbed her arm. “Hey, why don’t you come to Bainbridge this weekend, too?”
“Oh, well, heavens, Danny…” Sam was at a loss for words. She glanced quickly at Chase, whose face was impassive, though she thought she saw a flicker of alarm in his eyes.
“Please?” He looked at Chase. “It would be all right, wouldn’t it?”
Sam realized the boy was nervous about the trip. “I don’t know, Danny. This is a chance for you to get to know your…well…Chase.”
The man in question finally spoke up. “Why don’t you come for lunch—maybe Saturday?”
Danny smiled expectantly at her as Sam struggled to find a way out. In the end, she could think of no excuse that wouldn’t sound lame or mean-spirited. “Sure, that would be nice.”
As she waved goodbye, she recalled her promise to her mother only yesterday. That’s it for my involvement with the family. Now the rest is up to them. Yeah, right.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SKYE TOSSED the photocopied file onto the passenger seat of her mother’s car and, starting up, pulled out of the parking lot of Seattle’s FBI field office. She’d had no trouble getting the file, especially since she’d been the investigating agent thirteen years ago.
Many of the agents who’d been working there with Skye then had either retired or been transferred or promoted elsewhere. Except for the clerk in Records who’d teased, “Tying up loose ends, eh, Skye?” when she’d requested the file.
“You never know,” she’d replied. “Anyway, gives me something to do in my holidays.” She’d instantly regretted that because the clerk had given her a pitying look and said, “Don’t tell me you’ve turned into another workaholic agent.”
“Occupational hazard,” she’d joked as she scooped up the file and headed for the copy machine.
If only it were a joke and not the pathetic truth, she thought as she drove. Although she’d tried to convince herself and Sam that she had to make the trip west for her mother’s birthday, anyway, she knew arrangements could have been done by e-mail. The birthday itself wasn’t for another month, and Sam had had every right to be suspicious of her motives for returning home so much earlier.
She bet her twin was seething about the interference with her current project—the Benson/Sullivan family—and she couldn’t blame her. Skye would never have thought of looking into the old inquiry if Sam hadn’t called up asking for assistance. It was a lot easier for Skye to use that as an excuse to spend holiday time at home without having to spell out the main reason—she was tired of the estrangement from her sister and was hoping to put the whole Christmas-and-Todd fiasco to rest.
Yet now she was home, she had doubts that any reconciliation was possible. Whenever they were together they were like two alley cats. Fur raised, claws bared. Sam took everything she said the wrong way and all conversation inevitably led to that thing with Todd. The bane of Skye’s life for the past six months. And it hadn’t even been a good kiss.
Skye took another swig from the plastic coffee cup in the holder and contemplated her next move. A good cup of coffee seemed the first step—it was a crime that the office coffee could be so foul in the birthplace of Starbucks. Then she’d go back home, reread the file and make some notes. Next, she’d pay a little visit to Trade Winds, the import-export company Chase Sullivan’s father had partly owned. After that, Bainbridge Island. In the original inquiry, she’d never interviewed Chase. He’d been off at a conference or out of the country somewhere. And after observing Sam’s face when she’d teasingly suggested she might be attracted to the man, Skye’s curiosity was significantly aroused. Yes. Haven’t been to Bainbridge in years.
The light changed and she made a sharp turn, heading for a coffee outlet two blocks away. A large latte, cozy up on the couch in the solarium for a good read and then she’d toss a coin to see which came next. Trade Winds or Bainbridge. Sounded like a plan.
CHASE STOOD BACK for a better view of the room. He had two more days to rig up space for Danny and the task was proving to be a real challenge. No matter where he moved things, the problem remained. His place was just too damn small. Ironically it had been the size that appealed to him almost two years ago when he signed a lease agreement to rent the shop and the cottage behind it. It was definitely a huge change from his childhood home in Magnolia. That fact alone—as well as the price—had clinched the deal.
He’d spent most of the morning moving things from the small room off the kitchen that had served as storage and distributing them between the cottage and the shop. His neighbor, Marjorie, had watched from the backyard of her gift shop.
“You’re not moving, are you?” she’d asked, peering over the waist-high fence.
Chase had stopped, shifting the carton in his arms. There was no point in being too vague about what was happening, because Marjorie would keep digging until eventually she’d mined all the gossip potential she could. After a few seconds, he’d explained, “I’m having company for the weekend—maybe longer.”
“Oh? Someone from out-of-town?”
“No, someone from the city.” He’d seen right away she wasn’t going to be satisfied with that, so he’d set the box down and walked over to the fence. “My son.” The words bounced around in his head. Their meaning had yet to sink in.
She’d gaped. “I’d no idea you were even married.”
“I’m not—not anymore,” he’d added quickly, recalling the epithet that Danny had been taunted with at school.
“My goodness! How old is he?”
“Uh…twelve…going on thirteen.”
“For heaven’s sake! Aren’t you the dark horse!”
Chase had had no doubt that the news would spread rapidly up and down Primrose Lane, which was probably a good thing, saving him from making the explanation over and over again.
Most of the day had been a write-off. Even Marjorie lost interest after a while. By late afternoon, Chase had emptied the storage room of everything but a small table. He’d have to go into the city tomorrow to one of the chain stores to buy a cheap single bed and mattress, along with some other accessories to make the place look like a room and not a renovated storage area.
Still, the work had been a good physical diversion from the questions that had been plaguing him since the day he first met Samantha Sorrenti at Harbor House. Questions like, how did he get to know a twelve-year-old boy who, a week ago, was a complete stranger and who, now, was his son? Or, what would the two of them do for a whole weekend? And the biggest question of all—how would his life change?
He knew the answer to the last one. In more ways than you can even foresee. He was ashamed to admit to himself that a mere few years ago, that realization would have filled him with self-pity. But now that the initial shock had passed and the truth had registered—the instant he saw Danny, Chase knew he was his son—he’d come to accept that this was one responsibility he would not be able to walk away from. He remembered an old saying his father had thrown at him several times—“You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.”
As a teenager, he’d loathed hearing that. Not just for its implicit dismissal of any and all troubles, but for its coldness. The underlying message was always clear: You’ll get no help from me. The adult Chase Sullivan had grown to understand the reasons his father had uttered it. Which led to the question Chase feared the most.
Would he be a better father to Danny than his own father was to him?
He checked the time. A tourist was dropping by just after five to pick up a carving o
f a great blue heron. He’d started carving birds and other animals in the dark days of winter more than a year ago and had been surprised at their popularity with tourists. It made sense to diversify a bit. Not many people wandered in off the main drag to buy a cherrywood cabinet or a black walnut table. Most of his furniture sales were orders or commissions from specialty shops in New York or San Francisco. Some pieces had been sent as far away as Toronto, Canada. He could live modestly on Bainbridge on the sales of just three or four of these commissions, but the carvings drew the tourists into the shop.
He thought about Marjorie’s reaction to the news he had a son and guessed that most of the residents on the lane would be equally surprised. He’d lived on the island for almost two years and had had no visitors. In fact, he seldom had company at all. When he’d first arrived, Marjorie had tried to set him up with a couple of women, but she’d eventually given up. Other than a handful of acquaintances, there was really no one else to be shocked—or pleased—at this new person in his life. The only person he knew who would have loved to know Danny was his mother. Sadly she didn’t even recognize her own son anymore.
He closed the cottage door and walked up the stone path to the shop. He still had a few minutes to make up a shopping list for his trip into the city in the morning. The first thing he did was to turn over the Closed sign and unlock the front door. He noticed a car parked in front of Marjorie’s place and wondered if she, too, had a late customer. The tourist season wouldn’t pick up until late May so many stores closed at five, rather than six or even nine.
He recalled his remark to Samantha Sorrenti the other day about Marjorie as the local neighborhood watch and realized that he himself wasn’t very good at noticing the comings and goings of the people on Primrose Lane. In many ways, full-time residence on Bainbridge was like living in a village. Especially given that the permanent population was only about twenty-five thousand or so, and most of those lived in Winslow.
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