“Don’t try to pull that ‘old man’ stuff on me,” Jesse called back. “You’re going to outlive us all.”
Jesse leaned back into the car, smiling in spite of the scolding he was receiving. “Pop’s in fine spirits, so buckle up,” he told his sister. “This could be a long night …”
Another Saturday night, another bowl of popcorn, another hour and fifty-four minutes of watching The Goonies followed by Toy Story.
Jason leaned back on the sofa, his long legs stretched out between the two sleeping bags where Logan and his buddy Cody were camped out on his living room floor.
“I wish we could find a treasure map like the kids in the movie did,” Logan said while he loaded the DVD.
“Me, too.” Cody sat up. “Or maybe we could find one of those underground tunnels. I’ll bet there are lots of them around here. St. Dennis is really old.”
“Yeah.” Logan said, his voice rushed with sudden excitement. “There used to be pirates that came here. Everybody knows that. Maybe we could find their ship in one of those tunnels …”
“First we have to find the tunnels,” Cody reminded him. “I wouldn’t want to find one that had all those bats in it, though.”
“First you have to find the treasure map,” Jason told them both.
“Oh. Yeah.” Cody sank back down into his sleeping bag as the video began.
They watched for few minutes before Cody asked, “Who would you be in the movie? I want to be Mikey.”
“I want to be Luke Skywalker,” Logan replied without hesitation.
“Luke Skywalker isn’t in The Goonies,” Cody told him. “He’s in Star Wars.”
“I know, but if I have to be a movie person, that’s who I’m going to be.” Logan turned around and tapped Jason on the knee. “Who would you be?”
“Chewbacca,” Jason replied, and the two boys dissolved into laughter.
“Fleur should be Chewbacca.” Cody picked up his little dog, Fleur, and held her up to Jason. “She’s furry enough to be a wookie.”
Fleur jumped from Cody’s arms to the sofa and curled up next to Jason as if appalled by the very thought of being anything but a bichon frise.
“I think Fleur likes being a dog,” Jason told them.
“Shhhh,” Logan commanded. “I like this part …”
The boys fell under the movie’s spell and Jason watched for a few minutes before leaning his head back against the sofa. Usually he tried to keep awake when the boys were watching movies, but the week’s activities were beginning to catch up with him tonight and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He’d been up by four thirty every morning and hadn’t gotten to bed before one A.M. even once. There’d been sketches to be made, plants to be ordered, and résumés for prospective new hires to review, not to mention the physical labor he still did in addition to running the business. Between work and his Saturdays with his nephew, he had precious little time for a social life, but for now, that was okay. He’d always been a hard worker, but having to establish a new business in a new town made him even more conscious of doing what he had to do to be a success.
He thought back to those early days in Florida, after the car crash that took his parents’ lives and shattered his and his brother’s. He rubbed his left leg above the knee, where the pins that had been inserted to hold his leg together seemed to burn every time he remembered that night and that time. After the dust settled and Jason had recovered from his injuries, Eric figured out that the only way they could keep a roof over their heads and food on the table was to find some sort of work that they, as fifteen- and eighteen-year-olds, could do. While their maternal grandmother had been granted official custody of Jason until he turned eighteen, her love of gambling often won out over her love for her grandsons. For the most part, she was content to let Eric raise his younger brother. Those times when the boys found they needed something that resembled parental guidance, their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Hilton, was always more than happy to step in when Grandma was out of state visiting the casinos. Mrs. Hilton might have clucked her tongue at their guardian’s behavior, but she’d never dreamed of alerting child services. She knew how important it was for the boys to stay together, especially after the terrible accident that had changed their world forever.
Seeing Logan and Cody curled up on the floor, laughing and giggling at the movie, shouting out the familiar dialogue at the appropriate times, reminded Jason of nights long ago when he was about Logan’s age. He and Eric would pull the blankets off their beds and drag them into the small living room, make nests for themselves, then slip a video into the VCR. They’d pop corn and set the bowl between them, and settle into the latest movie they’d picked up at the Blockbuster two blocks away. Favorites would be played over and over again, until they knew all the dialogue by heart.
Jason could still recite lines from Ghostbusters at the drop of a hat.
The boys’ shrieks of terror brought him back to the present and the film on his TV. The shrieks turned to laughter, then total silliness. Eight-year-old boys were eight-year-old boys, no matter the era. In that, Jason took comfort, even as the pain of missing his brother once again washed through him. He’d never stop missing Eric—Jason knew that, but sometimes the renewed awareness of his death came suddenly, and overwhelmed him. No matter how much time had passed, the reality of it could smack him in the chest, just as it had when it was still new. The loss had never grown old, and he doubted it ever would.
Jason knew he was lucky to have reconnected with Eric’s son, lucky to be given the gift of being part of Logan’s life. It wasn’t the same as having his brother back, but Jason’s ties to the boy were strong, and growing stronger, and he was grateful for that.
Jason opened his eyes and looked down on the boy, who was totally immersed in the drama playing out on the screen. Logan had inherited Eric’s smile and his laugh, his sense of logic, his habit of rubbing one foot against the other when he was tired—like now, Jason noted—and Eric’s way of tilting his head just slightly to one side when he was about to question your facts, your opinion, or your authority. It amazed him, when he thought about it, that little things like that could be passed on from father to son. Because of Eric’s deployments, he’d spent precious little time with his toddler son, who had been far too young to have observed his father’s behavior closely enough to memorize and imitate it. And yet there was Eric’s smile, his laugh, the subtle habits that only someone who had known Eric well over a long period of time could have recognized.
“That girl looks like my stepsister.” Cody pointed to the screen. “Paige, I mean. My mom says that Paige is just my sister now since my mom married her dad.”
“I’m going to have a stepfather,” Logan said softly. “When my mom marries Jesse, he’s going to be my stepfather.”
“I have a stepfather,” Cody reminded him. “ ’Cause my mom married Grant.”
“My real father’s dead.” Logan’s voice was soft.
“My real father’s a jerk,” Cody countered. “He did bad things with ladies who were not my mom and made a video that lots of people saw.” He hunkered down a little more into his pillow. “Kids from my old school saw it.”
“If it was a bad video, why were kids allowed to watch it?” Logan asked.
Good question, Jason thought. Eric’s logic again …
“Maybe not the kids, but their moms and dads saw it and talked about it. That’s why we came to St. Dennis. My mom wanted to get away ’cause everyone was talking about it on the TV.”
“That’s ’cause your mom is famous and everyone knows her,” Logan pointed out. It seemed that everyone knew that Cody’s mother was Dallas MacGregor, a very famous movie star.
“Everyone here knows her, too, but no one’s mean about it.”
“Shhh, here’s my favorite part.” Logan effectively ended the conversation.
The popcorn bowl was empty, and Cody’s dog was at the back door waiting to go out, so Jason picked up Fleur’s leash and
set the bowl on the kitchen counter. He stepped out into the cool air and wished he’d had the sense to grab a jacket. His southern sensibilities had yet to acclimate themselves to the northern winter. He followed the dog down the darkened street, pausing when she did. The scent of the Bay carried on the night wind, and he wondered how different the evening might have been if he’d joined the Enright crew at dinner. He hadn’t known Sophie was in town, and her appearance at the basketball court that afternoon had taken him slightly off guard. He’d always sensed something special about her, beyond her pretty face and trim body, had always hoped that someday he’d have a chance to get to know her a little better. Maybe this time the opportunity would present itself, he thought as he turned from a gust of wind. And if not, he’d just have to make sure that it did.
Chapter 6
Sophie stared out Jesse’s kitchen window onto the fenced-in yard while she waited for her first cup of morning coffee to finish brewing in her brother’s ancient coffeemaker. She wished he had one like the one that sat on her own kitchen counter, the one that brewed one fresh cup at a time. Hearing Jesse’s machine gurgle and burp painfully, what to give him and Brooke for a wedding gift was no longer a question. Even the coffeemaker they had in the DA’s office was better than this one.
She wondered if Christopher was fixing Anita’s morning coffee the way he used to fix hers. Was he, right at that moment, picking up two Danishes from the coffee truck that always parked in front of the courthouse regardless of the weather? The coffee was terrible, but somehow Sis, the woman who owned the truck, managed to snag the best Danishes in town. On mornings when neither of them had court, she and Chris would meet first thing in his office. The thought of Anita sitting in her chair, drinking coffee he’d brewed, eating her Danish, made Sophie see red.
She squeezed her eyes closed as tightly as she could, willing the image to vanish.
Think of something else, she demanded. Focus on something else. It’s a beautiful day, she reminded herself. Don’t let Christopher spoil this, too.
She took a deep breath and stared out the window.
The yard was quite nice, Sophie told herself, forcing her attention outside. The small brick patio was surrounded by beds covered with dried leaves. She wondered when those beds had last been planted. If she were living here, she’d put in a garden. She’d do flowers around the patio and lots of herbs and some vegetables out there in the center of the yard, where it was nice and sunny. If she had a restaurant, she’d want to serve really fresh salads and a vegetarian dish or two. And maybe she’d plant some red peppers to roast with garlic and olive oil. Mint for iced tea to be served on hot summer days …
Stop stop stop! She tried to shake the thoughts from her head but they did not go gently. It had been easier to ban Christopher, it occurred to her. She wasn’t quite sure what that meant.
The machine had just given up its dark brew when Sophie heard the front door slam.
“Jess?” she called.
“Yeah.” He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair. “Hey, you made coffee. Thanks.”
“Didn’t Brooke make coffee this morning?”
“Yes, but she got up early to bake for the shop, and by the time I got up, it was sludge.”
Sophie reached overhead into the cabinet and grabbed a cup, which she filled, and held out to her brother. When he reached for it, she pulled it back.
“First, the key.”
“What key?”
“You know what key.”
“Oh, you mean this one?” He pulled a braided green string from his pocket and dangled its lone brass key in front of her. “Could I interest you in a trade?”
She passed the cup over and he tossed the key into her outstretched hand.
“This is really it?”
“No, actually, that’s my garage key.”
“Jesse, you …”
He laughed. “Yes, it’s really ‘the key.’ I stopped by the office on my way back from Brooke’s and called Violet. She was just leaving for church, but she knew exactly where it was, as you suspected.”
“Did she say why you had it? Did she think it would be okay if we went in?” Sophie asked eagerly.
“The owner gave the key to Uncle Mike so that he could check up on the property periodically. Make sure there’d been no break-ins and that the roof wasn’t leaking, that sort of thing.”
“When was the last time someone went in?”
“I couldn’t tell. There was nothing in the file to indicate that anyone from the firm had made a visit.”
“Then I’d say we were due.”
“Well, I’m due.” He smirked. “A member of the firm is due.”
“Now that’s just plain mean. If—and it’s a big fat if—I ever decided to come to work with you, it would be because I wanted to and because I felt it was the right move for me, and not because you goaded or bribed me. That’s a big decision to make, Jess.”
“True. So I won’t goad—but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up. There are other ways …”
Sophie tucked the key into the pocket of her jeans. “I just need to grab my bag and put my shoes on. I can’t wait to see what this place looks like inside.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he called after her as she hustled toward the steps. “It’s bound to be a mess.”
Sophie drove her car because she wanted to see what it felt like to drive onto that lot and park near the door, though the reason she gave Jesse for wanting to drive was so that he couldn’t rush her and threaten to leave before she was ready to go.
“This place is really off the beaten path,” Jesse said as he got out of the car. “They probably didn’t do much business here before they closed.”
“Maybe not,” Sophie agreed, “but the new movie studio should bring a lot of traffic down this way, once it’s up and running. So not being in the center of town could be an advantage.”
“How do you figure?”
“No competition.” She fitted the key into the lock and it turned reluctantly. “Plus you heard that talk last night at Walt’s about the bait shop next door filing for a permit to dredge the river to make it deep enough for larger boats to dock there, right?”
Jesse nodded.
“And that they might even build a marina right there so that visitors to the studio could come by boat?” Sophie pushed open the door. “People could fly into Baltimore, charter a boat, and just come right across the Bay.” She paused in the doorway. “Boy, it’s dark in here.”
“Have a flashlight.” He handed her one of the two he’d grabbed before they left the house.
“Thanks.” She turned on the flashlight and scanned the room with its beam. “Maybe if we left the door open it would help.”
Jesse pushed the door back as far as it would go.
“Not much better,” he noted. “Dark and wow, really dusty. You sure know how to pick ’em.”
She took her time walking around the room, shining the light on the four big windows in the front and the two smaller ones on each side, all of which were covered with boards. There was just enough light to see the ancient cash register that sat atop the L-shaped counter with its eight stools lined up along the left side of the room.
“It’s not very big.” Jesse sneezed. “Eight tables for two, five tables for four.” With the beam he scanned the upturned chairs that sat atop the tables, their legs pointing toward the ceiling.
“Plenty big enough.” She flipped the light switch on the wall. “Just checking,” she said when the lights failed.
“The electricity’s been off for a few years.” Jesse sneezed again. “There was a note in the file that all the utilities were turned off.”
“Allergies acting up?” Without waiting for an answer, she added, “Want to wait for me in the car?”
“What, and miss all the fun?”
Sophie pushed through a door behind the counter and stepped into the kitchen. It seemed even darker than the front room, but she could see two ranges, a
double sink, a large refrigeration unit, and a couple of metal shelving units on wheels. She went to the back door, pushed aside the slide lock and a dead bolt, and pulled the door open. The cool air rushed in with the light, as if it had been waiting for a chance to enter.
“There’s some nasty-looking stuff in here,” Jess noted. “Wonder how long those dishes have been sitting on the drain board.” He held the light over the windowsills. “Nice selection of dead flies, bees, and wasps here, if you know anyone who collects. Oh, and one damned fine cobweb. Might be the biggest one I’ve ever seen.”
“Ugh! Mice droppings on top of the stoves.” Sophie made a face and peered into an open cabinet. “Not to mention on the shelves.”
“And the counters.” The light from Jesse’s flashlight skimmed along the countertop. “I wouldn’t even think about opening that old refrigerator or looking inside either of those ovens. This place is pretty disgusting, Soph.”
“Needs a good cleaning, that’s for sure.” Sophie sneezed three times in rapid succession.
“Needs to be razed. This place has ‘biohazard’ written all over it.”
“It’s not that bad. It’s just … neglected. And dirty.” She took a look around the room. “Very, very dirty. But there’s nothing here that can’t be fixed.”
“You have got to be kidding.” Jesse snorted. “Everything in this place needs to be tossed. It’s all Dumpster fodder, if you ask me.”
“Which I did not, but that’s okay. You’re entitled.” Sophie closed the back door and relocked it. “Let’s go look upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m curious, that’s why. And because I don’t know when I’ll get another chance.”
Jesse sighed and followed his sister back through the dining area and waited outside while she locked the front door.
“It’s probably as big a mess up there as it is down here,” he muttered.
“Maybe,” she nodded. “But you have a responsibility to your client. She’s depending on you to keep an eye on her property. What if there was an electrical fire …”
The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge Page 187