“It’s a bit farther along,” he said, slowing the truck down.
Sam stared out her window, trying to imagine what the street might have looked like in the late 1800s when Chase’s ancestors set up business. Some of her own family had come to America from Italy a little more than sixty years ago, just before her mother was born.
The truck coasted into an empty parking space and Chase shifted into Park. “There it is,” he said, pointing to a large, three-story stone edifice that fit in perfectly with its palatial neighbors. Except for a brass plate next to the door, fronted by a set of stone steps and wrought iron handrail, there was no indication that it was a commercial building.
“It’s quite beautiful,” said Sam, adding, “in a Gothic sort of way.”
“Yeah, well, that was the style way back then. In the beginning, my great-grandparents lived upstairs, but later the family moved to Magnolia and changed this place into offices. When I was really little, my father sometimes brought me here on a Saturday morning. I got to explore the nooks and crannies—and there are a lot of them—while he had meetings or made phone calls.”
He sounded so wistful that Sam turned her head. “So there were some good memories?” she asked softly.
His eyes met hers. “Some,” he said. “A lot changed when I hit my teens. By then, my father had changed, too.”
“How?”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Living the high life. Clubs. Drinking. Women.”
“It must have been…difficult,” she said, aware of the understatement but at a loss for another word.
“Very diplomatic, Sam. Frankly it was hell. Especially for Mother. But I got to leave.” He stared blankly beyond her at the building.
Sam wanted to reach out to him, but he was miles away, lost in the past. Suddenly his expression altered into one of pure hatred. Sam turned to see a man in a business suit standing in the now-opened front door of Trade Winds.
Not as tall as Chase, but large-framed, he seemed to be talking to someone inside. Suddenly he pivoted and looked straight at them.
Chase swore.
“What is it?”
“My cousin Howard. He’s…well…let’s just say he’s not a nice person. I’m kind of breaking the agreement with my uncle by being here.”
“We’re just looking at the place,” Sam said, staring at the man.
Howard moved slowly down the steps, speeding up as he seemed to recognize who was parked there.
“Let’s get out of here,” muttered Chase as he shifted into Drive and cranked the steering wheel.
The truck screeched out into the driving lane and Sam could see Howard lumbering to the curb, waving a fist at them, shouting something.
“He looks pretty ticked off.”
Chase didn’t reply. In profile, Sam thought he looked just as furious. More than that, she thought with a shiver, he looked dangerous.
The truck sped down the street and squealed to a stop at the first intersection. Chase turned to her, a bleak expression in his eyes. “This is going to sound lame, but do you mind if we blow off the trip to Bainbridge? I…” He gave up, looking away.
Sam thought she understood what was going on inside his head, but wasn’t certain. All she did know was that the mood had shifted and a trip anywhere now was one headed for disaster. “Of course I don’t mind. It’s probably better that I go home, anyway. Do you mind dropping me off at the nearest transit stop?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m taking you to your place.”
There was little conversation after that. He drove slowly, as if in a trance. Sam couldn’t figure out if he was replaying what had just happened or if he was trying to calm himself. Perhaps a bit of both, she decided.
By the time he pulled up in front of her duplex, she was relieved that the day had made an abrupt turnaround. Maybe things were moving too quickly between her and Chase. Maybe there was still an awful lot more to learn about him.
“Thanks for lunch,” she said, smiling. She started to open the door when he grasped her by the shoulder and pulled her to him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll make it up to you. There’ll be even more carvings to see the next time.”
She giggled. “Don’t be—” Silly, she was going to say. But the word was stifled by his lips landing on hers, his hands coming up to cup her head, holding it gently but firmly in place. No chance of escape. Not that she wanted one. Kissing him was like diving into a whirlpool, a breathless submerging. Salty lips and heat, her tongue tangling with his. Sun glittering ripples behind closed lids and wave on wave of pure pleasure cascading through her body.
His hands slipped down and under her sweater and she heard someone gasp—was it him or her?—as he touched bare skin. She pressed into him, but he suddenly tore his mouth from hers, gasping for air. Sam held on as long as possible, gradually drifting away from the kiss and his arms.
She sagged against the door, hoping her grin didn’t look too hungry. “Wow,” she murmured when speech returned.
“Wow,” he echoed. He reached over to tug her sweater back into place, then clasped her hand in his.
“Funny how things have changed,” she said.
“Funny and wonderful.” His eyes bore into hers. “We’re going to continue this,” he promised, “as soon as possible.”
“Yes,” she whispered. Reluctantly, she slipped her hand out of his and opened the door.
“I’ll call you later,” he said as she stepped down onto the sidewalk.
He started up the engine and she stood for a long moment, watching the truck move away and down the street. Finally she turned to head inside and as she did so, noticed a car creeping past the duplex, its driver looking her way. Sam squinted into the late-afternoon sun, trying unsuccessfully to see who was so interested in her building. Or her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHASE SET HIS CHISEL down on the worktable and went to answer the phone. He was hoping it might be Sam, changing her mind about coming to dinner. When he’d called to invite her late last night, he’d heard the hesitation in her voice and wondered if she was concerned about how the dinner might end, or if Danny might find out about it. But he’d decided he was being paranoid and that she might simply have a lot of work to catch up on, as she’d explained. He was in the same position and could relate.
It wasn’t Sam. “Oh, hello, Mrs. MacDonald. Has something come up with my mother?” He felt anxiety rise inside him. Harbor House had only called him once in the two years he’d been back, and that was after his mother had locked herself in a bathroom.
“Not exactly, Chase. And I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, but the phone call was most unusual so I thought I’d better. At least, before I talked to Mr. Klein about it.”
Chase frowned. Klein was the manager of Harbor House. “That’s quite all right,” he said as patiently as he could.
“Your uncle, Mr. Sullivan, phoned to say that from the first of next month he’d no longer be responsible for your mother’s account. He said you’d be paying it. I thought I’d better confirm with you before talking to Mr. Klein and changing the paperwork.”
Her message bounced around meaninglessly in his head. “Sorry, but when did my uncle call to tell you this?”
“Just an hour ago.”
Chase tried to focus over the hammering at his temple. He closed his eyes and suddenly saw his cousin outside the company yesterday afternoon, staring angrily at the pickup truck. Howard. “Um, could you hold off on the paperwork for me, Mrs. MacDonald? To tell you the truth, my uncle hasn’t contacted me about this yet.”
There was a brief silence on the other end. “Oh, dear. I hope everything’s okay. I assumed you knew.”
“If you could give me some time—maybe till tomorrow?—I can settle this misunderstanding.”
“Certainly, Chase. Give me a call when you have. The changeover doesn’t happen for another week.”
Chase hung up, passing a trembling hand acros
s his face. Bryant was definitely playing hardball. He had no doubt that Howard went running to his father about the visit, as innocuous as it was. Never had he dreamed his uncle could be this petty and mean. Yet he ought to have known, having been witness to such acts before. But he wasn’t going to let them get away with any more intimidation.
He tore off his canvas work apron, searched quickly for his keys and headed out. The worst part was waiting for the ferry. The half-hour ride was interminable, but at least afforded him the chance to think about what he’d say. He already knew what he wanted to do, but breaking the law was a last resort. And he tried not breaking any on the drive into the hills up to Magnolia where Bryant still lived, a mere eight blocks away from Chase’s childhood home.
Fortunately the gate was open. Chase doubted he’d have been able to wait for someone to let him in. He wheeled the pickup around the circle, braking hard right at the front door. He banged on the steel-enforced panel with his fist and stuck his left index finger in the fancy door buzzer at the same time.
The door swung open while Chase’s fist was raised, about to come down on the panel one more time. A matronly woman, no doubt a housekeeper, stood in the doorway, a look of fearful apprehension in her face.
“May I help you?” she asked, the words almost choking her.
Chase dropped his arm. “Yes. You can tell my uncle Bryant that his nephew, Chase, is here and wants to see him. Immediately.”
“Your uncle isn’t well today. He’s resting. Perhaps if you came…”
Chase brushed past the woman. He hadn’t been in the house for several years, but it hadn’t changed much and he remembered the basic layout. Standing in the center of the gleaming foyer, he debated where to begin his search for Bryant.
She saved him the trouble. “He’s in the solarium, off the den and to the right of the kitchen.”
“I know where it is,” Chase said, and spun around, leaving the woman speechless before the still-open front door. The house was huge and Chase doubted his cousins lived at home. Bryant’s last wife had died a few years ago and, except for a couple of staff, he was all alone in the mausoleum.
In spite of the size of the place, it didn’t take him long to find the solarium. His uncle was sitting in an armchair, his legs up on a footstool and covered with a blanket, reading a newspaper. His head shot up, shock in his face as he saw Chase.
“You know why I’m here,” said Chase, standing in front of his uncle, hands on his hips.
“How dare you storm into my house like this?” Bryant blustered. “Get out now, before I call the police.”
“Maybe that’s a good idea, Bryant. Go ahead. While I’m at the station, explaining away my surprise visit to my dear uncle, I’ll drop a few hints about Trade Winds.”
“I doubt that, boy. I doubt that very much,” said Bryant. “We had an agreement and you broke it.”
“By parking in front of the company building for thirty seconds?”
Bryant frowned. “You know what I’m talking about. I refuse to discuss the matter further. I’ll give you two minutes to clear out.” He raised the newspaper and began to read again.
But Chase saw the paper shaking in the old man’s hands and, for the first time, realized that fear had changed sides. It didn’t make him feel any better, but it did make him determined to stay. “I don’t know how you can sit there, knowing what you’re doing to my mother. Knowing what you’ve done to my family, you and your offspring.”
The paper dropped onto his lap. Bryant’s eyes flashed. “You mean, what you did to your family. You shattered your father’s trust and love when you made that call to the FBI.”
“For the record—again—I did not make that call. Besides, the whole scene thirteen years ago was a set-up concocted by you and your sons. You know that. So please have the decency to drop the act.”
“You have the decency to think about your mother for a change. If you were so concerned about her welfare, why did you break your promise? You knew what would happen.”
“I didn’t break any promise and you know it. Just tell me this—how long did you and my father carry out your scam? For all the years you both ran the company or just when you started getting those government contracts?”
“Your name was on those invoices,” retorted his uncle.
“Not all of them,” said Chase. “It won’t take much to reopen the case.”
“My friends have taken care of that,” he said, dismissing Chase’s implied threat with barely a sniff.
“Friends can be embarrassed by bad publicity.”
Bryant retrieved the newspaper, but this time, didn’t even pretend to read it. Instead he lapsed into silence, staring off into space.
“You didn’t answer my question,” pressed Chase. “When did you and my father cook up the fraud scheme?”
A peculiar expression flitted across Bryant’s face. Chase puzzled at it for a few seconds until a tiny lightbulb illuminated in his mind. “My father didn’t know about it, did he?”
The paper fluttered to the floor. His uncle looked up at him, suddenly a vulnerable and very old man.
“That’s why our fight was so horrendous,” said Chase, seeing the scene in his mind. “His mistake was to believe you, rather than his own son. Because you were his only sibling. His business partner. Supposedly his best friend. How much easier to believe you than his rebellious son.”
Bryant’s chin trembled. “Get out now or I will call the police.”
“You’re contemptible. I don’t know how you can look yourself in the mirror. You screwed your own brother and now you’re doing the same to his sick and defenseless wife. You disgust me.” Chase turned and strode to the door.
“You can look after your mother now,” cried his uncle. “Time to be a man, instead of a boy running from your problems. You should’ve thought of the consequences before you teamed up with that woman.” His laugh pitched.
Chase didn’t trust himself to look back. He made his way to the front door in a daze, thoughts and emotions fighting to trip him up any second. There was no sign of the housekeeper. A good thing. The poor woman had been frightened before. He shoved the door with the flat of his hand and stood on the threshold, blinded by the sun.
“What the…?”
Chase watched as his cousin closed his car door and headed his way. Terence, not Howard. Probably another good thing. Chase kept right on going toward his pickup.
“What are you doing here?” Terence asked, frowning.
Chase opened the truck door and climbed inside. Starting the engine, he saw Terence moving closer toward him. So tempting, Chase thought. A slight swerve of the steering wheel. He killed the image. Reversed away from his cousin, spun around and shot down the circular driveway to the main road. He didn’t stop shaking until he reached the closest Starbucks.
It wasn’t until later, on his way to the hospital to see Emily, that he recalled part of Bryant’s rant as he was leaving. Teamed up with that woman. What woman? He’d been with Sam, but how would they know…? Uh-oh. They thought she was Skye. And that explained the extreme reaction. Howard told Bryant he’d been with the FBI agent.
SAM STOPPED outside Emily’s door. She felt guilty about not coming sooner. She hadn’t seen her since the day Danny stormed out. How long ago was that? Only days, but it felt like weeks, so much had happened. Such as, I think I’m in love with your son’s father. How awkward was that? Sam exhaled, then took a quick deep breath and gently pushed open the door.
Emily was propped up on pillows, staring listlessly at the muted television suspended from the ceiling in the corner opposite the bed. She half-turned her head at Sam’s approach and gave a wan smile.
“You’re the very person I wanted to see,” she said in a voice so low Sam had to strain to hear.
Sam smiled back and perched on the bedside chair. She patted the back of Emily’s hand, resting at her side. “How are you today?”
“Not too good,” Emily said. “Slight fever. I
met your mother yesterday,” she went on, changing the subject. “She’s a wonderful woman. You’re very lucky.”
Sam nodded. “I am.”
“She was so great with Danny. I could tell right away how much he liked her.”
“Yes, she’s good with kids.” Sam heard herself say what she’d never have admitted in her adolescence. But it was true, she realized. She’d just never seen it.
“And Danny agreed to meet the counselor your mother recommended.” Emily closed her eyes.
Sam watched her chest rise and fall beneath the cover. The time between each breath seemed long. There was a fine sheen of perspiration in her face and her skin color had a yellowish tint. Sam felt a surge of apprehension. Emily’s condition was rapidly deteriorating.
Her eyes flicked open and she looked up at Sam as if she were seeing her for the first time that day. Then she must have remembered, because her expression shifted and she frowned. “Sorry. Sometimes the fatigue just takes over. I wanted to see you, Sam, because I have a favor to ask.”
“If it’s about Danny, not to worry,” Sam quickly said. “I will most definitely stay in his life.”
“Yes, please. It means so much to me…knowing he’ll have a woman’s influence. And I know Chase is going to take him in. He’s been talking to Minnie and Danny about it.” She paused again, taking slow breaths.
“Chase told me they’d arranged for Danny to spend weekdays with Minnie until the end of the school term,” Sam said. “Then he’ll move permanently to Bainbridge, with Chase.”
Emily nodded. She started to speak, but had to stop.
“Not to worry, Emily. All of us are going to take very good care of your son.”
Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes and spilled over. Sam took a tissue and dabbed them gently, trying desperately not to cry herself.
After a long moment, Emily said, “I’m hoping for something more for him, Sam. Something he’s never really had.”
Puzzled, Sam asked, “What?”
“A family, Sam. That’s what I want for my boy. A family of his very own.”
A Father for Danny Page 18