The Second Family

by Janice Carter

  Then he was gone, reversing at full speed down the drive to where it widened, made a three-point turn and headed for the highway.

  Tess didn’t dare go back inside. Not just because of the threat of tears that were welling up already. But because she wanted to wait for the nausea rolling up from the pit of her stomach to settle.

  MOLLY WAS the only lively one during breakfast, Tess noted. Nick slurped at his cereal, picked up his backpack and was halfway out the door behind Molly when Tess stopped him. “Do you have a practice today after school?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled without turning around.

  “I’ll pick you up then. What time?”

  There was a slight hesitation before he mumbled again. “Six o’clock.”

  “I’ll be waiting in the school parking lot.”

  The door slammed behind him. Not a happy camper, Tess thought. Obviously yesterday’s news hadn’t made a big difference. Tess sighed and massaged her forehead with her fingertips. She couldn’t seem to get anything right. She thought back to what Alec had said last night. About being aware of the huge responsibility and how the hard times might continue. Then she thought about handling all of that on her own. Doubt began to churn around inside her.

  MIDAFTERNOON the telephone rang. Tess had been packing books in the master bedroom and froze at the sound. Was it Alec? She walked over to the bedside and the extension.

  “Miss Wheaton?”

  An unfamiliar baritone told her immediately that it wasn’t Alec Malone. Disappointed, she muttered a faint, “Yes.”

  “Lieutenant Slegers here. Just calling to report that my people failed to come up with any bill of sale or receipt regarding a Richard Wheaton painting sold in the past three months. There were plenty before that, but you seemed to think this sale was a recent one. Am I correct in assuming that?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  She was focusing on his comment about no sales in the last three months and wondering at the reason when he added, “Also, we found no sign of any canvases by Richard Wheaton. Kozinski’s assistant at the gallery as well as his companion went through everything very carefully all weekend. Neither of them has any recollection of any Wheaton canvases coming in. Holloway—he’s Kozinski’s mate—insists Kozinski would have mentioned them. Apparently they’d be worth quite a lot of money.”

  “But I gave them to Jed Walker so he could have them assessed for the estate,” she said.

  “Well then, guess you’d better check with Walker. Obviously, he never got the paintings to the gallery.” His voice was brusque, anxious to get off the phone.

  Tess didn’t bother clarifying that Jed Walker claimed he’d passed them on to Kozinski. The whole business was getting too complicated. She thanked him for his help but before hanging up, impulsively asked, “Have you found out anything more about the murder?”

  “Not much that I’m free to tell you, ma’am, at this point. Autopsy report does indicate death due to blunt trauma of the head and as you already know, there is evidence of robbery. Some items were taken, as well as cash Kozinski kept in his desk. If you think of anything more to add to our investigation, feel free to call,” he said.

  As in, don’t call us, we’ll call you. Tess replaced the receiver and thought about the canvases. What had Jed Walker done with them? She considered phoning him right away, but then decided she wanted to see his face when she told him the police had found no record of them.

  HIS FACE was impassive. Nary a flicker in it, Tess noted. Not even a flinch or tensing in the jaw. But his annoyance at being interrupted yet again by Tess Wheaton was obvious in his voice when he reluctantly greeted her.

  “A telephone call would have sufficed,” he reiterated as she sat opposite him in his inner office. “You needn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

  “I was expecting you to return my call. Didn’t you get my message?”

  “Not until this morning and it’s been a busy day.”

  “Well, I had to come to town anyway,” she said. “What do you think has happened to the canvases?”

  He raised his shoulders and shook his head. “As I told you, I handed them over to Kozinski. He said the appraisal would take a few days.”

  “They couldn’t just disappear! His partner—Holloway—claims Tomas never even mentioned them.”

  Another dismissive shrug. Tess felt like lunging across the desk and grabbing him by his neatly knotted tie.

  “My only thought,” he quickly went on, “and I’ve no proof, is that Kozinski decided to pull some kind of scam. Maybe he had a buyer for the canvases and sold them under the table, avoiding both Internal Revenue and paying the estate its share.”

  “But how could he expect to do that, knowing that you would be waiting for the appraisal?”

  Walker let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. As I said, it’s only a suggestion.” He pursed his lips. “He might even have staged the robbery with someone and then…I don’t know…something went wrong. Maybe they quarreled and Tomas was killed as a result.”

  “Did you suggest that to the police?”

  He flashed her a patronizing smile. “Tess, one doesn’t pass on wildly speculative ideas to the police.”

  Not unless one’s name is Tess Wheaton.

  “But I did tell police,” he went on, “that I had given the canvases to Kozinski.”

  “When? I just spoke to them after lunch.”

  “Then they called me after that, to check for themselves I suppose. About an hour ago.” Reminded of time, he looked at his watch. “I do have another appointment,” he said, standing to see her out.

  Knowing she would get no further, she followed him to the door. He opened it and added, “By the way, I’ll have the papers for guardianship ready the day after tomorrow. There’s no problem, as we anticipated.”

  Strangely, Tess felt relieved, as if there might have been a threat of some kind.

  “And I assume you’ll be returning to Chicago with the children?”

  She noticed he was one of the few people to automatically assume that, though she wasn’t certain if that was a good sign or not. “Yes,” she said. “Probably.”

  “Then if you don’t mind, I’ll proceed with negotiating a sale price for the ranch. The sooner the better, don’t you think? So that the trust fund can be established?”

  Tess stepped into the outer office where Walker’s secretary was conferring with someone on the telephone. “Yes, of course,” she said. She had a vague sense of being rushed—out the door, through the sale of the ranch and back to Chicago as soon as possible.

  She paused, irritated by his apparent brush-off. “When I’m legally their guardian, I’ll be able to oversee the trust on their behalf. Isn’t that correct?”

  He thought that over, then said, “Yes.”

  Tess left, with the distinct impression that the yes had been very reluctantly pronounced. She noted it was past four. There was time to kill before Nick’s practice finished. She had a crazy impulse to drive by Alec’s office to see if he was available for a drink and scarcely ten minutes later, was pulling into a free space just yards before the building where he worked. Now that she was here, she was eager to see him and to explain her blunder last night. She was partway out the door when she saw Alec exit the building. Tess stretched her arm to wave to him, but his attention was taken by the petite blonde at his side.

  They were chatting in a way that stayed Tess’s hand midwave. Alec stopped to say something that obviously pleased the woman who laughed, patting him on the arm. The unexpected familiarity struck Tess along with the sobering reminder that, although she’d shared some of Alec’s weekend, she really had not shared much else in his life.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  TESS DEDUCED that her early arrival at Nick’s practice yesterday had had something to do with his warmer manner, though she suspected the real reason was her talk with him later. The vanished painting had been on her mind and, on the drive home, when he’d startled her by asking
what she was thinking, she’d told him about it.

  He remembered the work and said his father had refused to sell it, though Nick thought he’d had many offers over the years. When they arrived at the ranch, she took him into the studio and they had silently studied the painting together for a long moment. Nick said that the reason he recalled the still life so well was because, as a young boy, he had asked his father why the fruits and vegetables were lying around the outside of the bowl, rather than placed inside it.

  “I don’t remember his exact words,” he told Tess, “but I do know that Dad said he’d been playing a game with them and that was the way he decided to paint it. Instead of the usual way.”

  Tess fell silent then, thinking back to that rainy afternoon so many years ago.

  He had agreed with her that Richard Wheaton would never have consented to the paintings being separated. “Like I said, he always used to say he would never sell it in a million years.”

  Tess couldn’t explain why, but she was glad that she and Nick had found some common agreement. So when she awoke the next morning, she was feeling optimistic. Until Molly asked, “Will you sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s room now, Tess?”

  Two pairs of eyes focused on her. She hadn’t planned to tell the children like this, but felt she had no other choice. “Actually,” she said, “I won’t have to. I’ve spoken to Mr. Walker and he’s going to try to sell the ranch.”

  Nick’s jaw dropped and Molly’s eyes grew big. But neither spoke.

  “I…uh, I thought it would be best if we all went back to Chicago.”

  “To live?” Molly gasped.

  “Of course, sweetie. Would you like that?”

  Molly frowned. “I’m not sure. Maybe. Can Squiggly come?”

  “Certainly. And all the toys and books you want to bring, too.”

  Nick scraped his chair along the floor as he leaped to his feet. The chair toppled over behind him, but he was oblivious to all but Tess. The anger in his face was frightening.

  “When were we supposed to find this out? Like, two days before we moved or something?” He backed away from the table toward the door. “I’m not going. I don’t care if you put me in a group home or whatever. I’ll live on the street, but I’m not going to live in Chicago.” He ran from the kitchen.

  Tess and Molly stared at one another, listening to his feet pounding along the hall, then his bedroom door slamming. What seemed like hours later, they heard the front door open and close.

  “Is Nick still going to go to school today?” Molly asked.

  Distracted by the chaos she had unwittingly released, Tess murmured, “I hope so.”

  “Well, he didn’t wait for me. Who’s walking me down to the road?”

  Tess looked at the little girl’s plaintive face. “I will, Molly.”

  When they reached the end of the drive that joined the ranch to Highway 36, there was no sign of Nick.

  “Did his bus come already?” Molly asked. ‘’Cause usually his bus comes after mine—that’s why he waits with me.”

  Tess sighed. She stepped out onto the shoulder of the highway and, shielding her eyes from the sun, looked for Nick. If he was walking into town—which is what she suspected—he was already out of sight. Molly’s bus arrived and Tess helped her climb aboard, waving goodbye half-heartedly while wondering what to do about Nick.

  When Nick’s bus arrived on time less than five minutes after Molly’s, Tess asked the driver if Nick had gotten on at the previous stop. The negative answer confirmed what she knew she had to do. Go looking for Nick.

  She hurried into the house to dress, pulling up jeans under her nightie T-shirt. The mornings were still cool so she tugged on a pair of socks, slipped into loafers and picked up her cotton windbreaker. Reaching for her purse and car keys on a hook by the front door, she was in the car and on her way to Boulder in a scant five minutes.

  By the time she arrived at Nick’s school, the bell had rung and students were strolling inside. She waited in the parking lot a few minutes, guessing that if she rushed in to find him sitting at his desk in homeroom, he’d be embarrassed. Not to mention, ticked off. She knew that attendance was taken during the first twenty minutes and drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel while she put in the time.

  What also troubled her was the fact that, if Nick wasn’t at school, she might have to see Alec. She simply wasn’t up for that. All night long she’d replayed the scene outside the house a hundred different ways and in each one, she came out looking a lot better than she had in the original. If only. Those two small words had tormented her until daybreak. Tess peered at the dashboard clock. Time.

  She hurried across the parking lot and entered the school by a side door. Lost, she stopped the first two girls she encountered and asked for directions to the office. They’d looked at one another and tittered before pointing the way. The halls were teeming with adolescent bodies in all forms of dress and, Tess couldn’t help noticing, undress.

  The office was busy, too, with students and parents clustered about waiting to speak to someone and others dropping off slips of paper that Tess saw were attendance sheets. She had to suppress an impulse to riffle through them and rocked back and forth on her heels until she caught someone’s attention. Surprisingly, that didn’t take long. One of the secretaries—a young woman who looked as if she’d recently graduated from high school herself—timidly approached the counter and asked Tess if she could help her.

  “Yes,” Tess announced, impatience rising into her voice. “I want to find out if Nick Wheaton is at school today.”

  The woman’s eyes swept up over Tess but she didn’t say anything. Tess felt her irritability factor surge.

  “Nick Wheaton,” she repeated as if she hadn’t been heard.

  A slight frown marred the young forehead. “Are you his…uh, mother?”

  “No,” snapped Tess. “I’m his sister. Could you please check? I’m in a hurry.”

  While the secretary picked up the attendance slips to thumb through them, Tess noticed a few surreptitious glances seemed to be aimed her way. Perhaps she ought to have taken the time to brush her hair or put on some lipstick. Fortunately, she was saved the worry of mentally assessing her appearance by the secretary returning to say that Nick was not in school.

  On her way out, Tess craned her head around to ask the woman to call her at home the instant he arrived. If he arrived. Then she jogged out to the parking lot and drove toward the center of town and Alec Malone’s office, a place she was hoping Nick would go if he wanted to talk to someone. What would she do once she was back in Chicago, if Nick were to take off like this? Alec Malone would be a heck of a long way away.

  Tess shoved the question aside. Finding Nick was the objective here. Not organizing your life six months from now. Fortunately she found a parking space close to the building where Boulder County Child Protective Services was located.

  She walked through an empty reception area into a maze of cubicles, scanning the room for Alec’s tall, husky form and reddish-brown head.

  “Can I help you?”

  Tess stopped to peer down at a young woman sitting behind a desk to her right. The woman had a bemused expression on her face. Perhaps because people were supposed to check in with reception rather than wander aimlessly about inside.

  “I’m looking for Alec Malone,” she said.

  That arched a single, plucked eyebrow. “Are you a client of his?”

  “Well, my brother is. Nick Wheaton.”

  She nodded. “Alec’s office is at the very back. Take the center row and you can’t miss it. I’ll call and tell him—?”

  “Tess Wheaton,” she said, already moving toward what could be a center row. Several heads raised to follow her. Some appeared to be faintly amused. Tess was just beginning to wonder if she had accidentally wandered into the inner sanctum of a top-secret organization. How out of place did she look, she asked herself?

  Then she spotted a familiar face and all of her anx
iety about confronting Alec Malone so soon after her stupid remark last night simply evaporated. His grin was cautious and a bit lopsided, but she was so relieved to see it that she had to steel herself from rushing at him and throwing herself into his arms.

  “Tess?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over her from top to bottom and back again. He steered her into his office, closing the door behind him. His forehead wrinkled in a hesitant frown, as if he were unsure how to respond to her unexpected presence. “What is it?”

  “It’s Nick,” she said. All of her pent-up anxiety gushed out of her and she couldn’t have stopped herself from babbling if she’d wanted to. “I told the kids we’d be moving to Chicago and he just flipped out. I mean, Molly was okay with it once I said Squiggly could come too—and all of her stuff, you know—but Nick just raced out of the house without even thinking about walking Molly to her bus. So I had to do that and when Nick’s bus came and he wasn’t there, I got in the car and went to his school. But he wasn’t there, either, and to be honest, Alec, I’m sorry to bother you at work like this but you were the only person I could think of to turn to.” She had to stop then, for air.

  Alec had been nodding his head throughout and when she paused, he asked, “You went to his school just now? Like that?”

  Confused by this obviously irrelevant question, Tess just nodded.

  Then she followed his gaze, now resting somewhere on her midsection. Her windbreaker was unzipped and gaping open to reveal her T-shirt nightie, complete with its fluffy oversized pink bunny and the logo Sleepytime Bunny scrawled in pink beneath it. The bunny was grinning and flashing a mischievous wink as it munched on a carrot.

  Tess closed her eyes and lowered her head on to her fist.

  “YOU WANT A LARGE, or regular?” Alec asked, leaning over her at the coffee shop outside his building.

  She was definitely preoccupied, he thought, as she seemed to be pondering his question longer than necessary. At least he hadn’t had to convince her to zip up her windbreaker, in spite of the warming day. And he’d managed to find a battered comb in a desk drawer that she’d used to tame some of the sleepy tangles in her hair.