by Amy Wallace
The oriental vase Sue had given him, filled with vibrant pink roses from her garden, shook as he walked past.
Steven startled as Dad draped an arm over his shoulders and held him still. He was a younger clone of his dad, who had always been his hero. Steven envied the joy and peace his father wore like a comfortable baseball cap.
“Everything will be fine, son. You need this break, and we’ve packed our bags to stay overnight. That way James can stay in his own bed and you can stay out late.”
“We’ll see. Dad.”
“Clint’s a good man to push you out of your self-imposed monastic lifestyle.”
Dad’s intense gaze said he Wanted to say more. Most likely that he would be praying.
Steven turned away to retrieve his coat from the coatrack by the stairs.
Sue came over and placed both hands on his chest. A good six inches shorter than he and his father, she held her own in the Kessler family, ruling the roost with her Southern charm. “Hanna said to tease you for her. And I know your mom would have made you laugh with a story of your high school antics. I missed that fun, but I know you’re a catch if there ever was one. Relax, honey. Gracie will be blessed just getting to know you; I’m sure of it.”
The reminder of his mom felt bittersweet. Over the last eight years, few days had passed when he hadn’t wished she’d survived her battle with cancer. But then Sue had stepped into their lives five years ago and honored his mother’s memory while pushing them all forward.
Steven reached down and engulfed his stepmom in a bear hug. “Thanks. Mom would have loved you.”
His dad’s strong hand rested on his shoulder again.
Steven checked his watch. Time to go. He turned to call up the stairs. “Hey, little man, I’m off. Can I get a good-night hug before I head out?”
Thundering through the hallway and skipping stairs, James jumped into his waiting arms, all smiles. Steven felt human again in his son’s hug. The weight of the world and his kidnapping investigation faded a little.
But only a little.
James handed him a card made out of yellow construction paper. “This is for Mrs. Lang. It’s her favorite color. Will you give it to her?” His son took a quick breath. “Are you going to be out all night. Dad? Are you going to kiss Mrs. Lang? Will she be my real mommy?”
Pain like a glass shard in his heart nailed his tongue down.
No one moved.
“I think you should kiss her.” James folded his arms across his chest. “That’s what the big kids at the park said everyone does. Maybe then Mrs. Lang will come live with us faster.”
Steven forced a smile and put James down. He’d talk to his dad later about a better choice of playmates and ask when the mom talk had started. “Well, regardless of what some people say I’m not about to kiss Mrs. Lang tonight. Gentlemen don’t kiss on the first date.” He ruffled his son’s sandy brown hair.
Not that I don’t miss it.
But distractions like that didn’t fit into his life anymore.
“All right, James, let your dad get going. I’m sure he doesn’t want to be late.” Sue scooped up her grandson and gave him a hug. “You’ve sure taught him how to be honest, haven’t you, Steven?” She laughed while shooing him out the door.
Like it or not, the time for his date was upon him.
Gracie changed clothes for the third time.
She was back to the outfit her sister had suggested in the first place. She studied her dark blue cocktail dress in the full-length mirror and frowned. Then sighed. Giggling with Beth later would be worth a little sucked-in tummy strain.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this, Jake. But it’ll be good for me. A step into the future.”
He continued to stare at her in silence.
Gracie clasped the gold locket around her neck. Then Jake scrambled off the bed and down the stairs, barking at the door.
Steven was here.
Grabbing her matching satin clutch, she steadied herself and moseyed to the door. No use looking like an overeager teen. She took a deep breath and smiled before opening the front door.
According to Steven’s appreciative eyes, she had chosen the right dress for the evening.
“Hello, Gracie. You look stunning.”
“Thank you.” What to do next escaped her.
Jake pushed past her and jumped up on Steven’s chest.
“Oh, Jake, get down!” She grabbed his collar, pulling him away With a stern pointed finger. Gracie directed him to his dog bed in the den where he went, tail tucked. “Sorry about that. He’s not used to many visitors.”
“Not a problem.” Steven brushed off his suit coat. “He’s a great-looking golden. Lots of fun too, I imagine.”
As she ushered Steven inside, he extended a small bouquet of roses—one yellow and one red nestled in greenery and tied with a lace bow. And a yellow card. “These are for you.”
The flowers’ sweet smell made her sigh.
Steven followed her down the front hall. “The yellow flower and card are from James. He said they looked like sunshine and you would like that.”
“Thank you. He’s right.” Gracie motioned for Steven to have a seat in the den. “I’ll go find a vase and leave myself a note to send James a thank-you card.”
Gracie flipped open a few kitchen cabinets looking for a crystal vase and then fiddled with the flowers, watching Steven the entire time. Jake crept over to the couch and nuzzled his offered hand. In turn, Steven rubbed the dog’s soft honey coat and glanced around the room.
The den, with its periwinkle walls, lace curtains, and rich oak furniture, was her favorite place to curl up and read. Strange that the approving look from a relative stranger caused the tap dance in her belly to intensify.
Steven stood and scanned the built-in bookshelves by the fireplace packed with a menagerie of eclectic books. She followed his gaze to the adjoining wall where he studied a Ron DiCianni painting of an angel watching over a child in a dark forest. The brass plate below read, “For he will order his angels to protect you wherever you go.”
She wondered if Steven knew that verse in Psalms.
He cleared his throat.
Oops, caught staring again. It’d been too long since she’d even noticed another man, let alone had one in her house. And her manners were blaring that fact. Steven would never ask her out again.
Gracie fiddled with her gold locket. “You mentioned our reservations were for eight. Should we be heading out soon?”
Steven’s smile crinkled the tanned skin around his stunning blue eyes. He bowed and extended his arm toward her. “As you wish.”
Princess Buttercup she was not, but Steven’s response reminiscent of Wesley’s dialogue in The Princess Bride movie broke the ice between them as they laughed.
On the drive to the restaurant, conversation felt more natural. Eighties movie trivia and college basketball facts—Georgia Panthers and Louisville Cardinals—carried them through downtown Alexandria.
Gracie gasped slightly as they pulled up to the beautiful Morrison House. Behind the handsome red brick, a vibrant sunset gilded the finest restaurant in Old Town Alexandria. She hoped this night foreshadowed great things to come.
Maybe even a future date with the handsome FBI agent next to her.
Under the orange and purple watercolor sunset, anything felt possible.
Steven held out Gracie’s chair.
Her wide-eyed survey of the restaurant reminded him of James’s FAO Schwartz adventure on their only family vacation two years ago. The New York City toy store left children and adults staring in wonder.
Gracie caught him watching her and blushed. She studied her napkin and then met his eyes again. “Do you come here often?”
“No, this is my first time.”
She relaxed her shoulders. “Well, I’m very impressed. This restaurant is exceptionally beautiful.”
“You fit right in.” That sounded so lame. He’d string Clint up for making him come tonig
ht. He had better things to do than sound like a desperate teen on a dead-end date.
But Gracie’s blush looked incredible by candlelight.
“Thank you.”
Their waiter rattled off specials, prices omitted. Steven ordered two of the mixed salads Gracie had commented on and watched the starched waiter weave through the linen-covered tables. Blue table settings and crystal water goblets dotted tables all over the room, adding to the elegant atmosphere. Everything hinted at a huge bill. Michael hadn’t mentioned the expense of his favorite dining recommendation. The rookie would have an earful, come tomorrow afternoon.
Unless they found Olivia tonight.
Then all would be forgiven.
Steven winced at his thoughts. Some phrases stuck like glue.
“You look like you’re a million miles away.” Gracie dabbed at her mouth. “Is it something I said?”
Steven shook his head. “I’m not doing a good job of leaving work at work. I apologize.”
“If it would help to talk things out, I’m a good listener.”
And a Christian, if her book selection and shelf of nondusty Bibles were any indication. He didn’t want to go deep and hear a lecture. He had Clint for that. Besides, faith and work realities never mixed well. Especially now.
How things had changed. Years ago, he’d sat in Gracie’s place with Angela scowling at his God-talk.
Gracie jerked him back to the present with her humming to a James Taylor song in the background.
“You know JT? Aren’t you a little young for that?”
She smiled all the way to her eyes. “I cut my musical teeth on my parents’ favorite records, James Taylor among many His lyrics floated through my dreams, and now that I’ve lived a bit, they make sense. They remind me that life is both good and bad. There’s much to be gained in embracing both.”
“‘Fire and Rain’ is my favorite song.”
“There’s a story in that.”
Steven chuckled. An understatement of mammoth proportions, but she didn’t push for more information. He respected that. Appreciated her gentle invitations to conversation. Even more, he appreciated the lack of pressure to fill the air with words.
The waiter placed large salads in front of them. “Are you ready to order?”
Steven cleared his throat and remembered Gracie’s choice from the specials. “Yes. She’ll have the red snapper and I’d like the New York Strip. Medium well.”
“Very good. We’ll have that out shortly.” The young man turned on his heel and speed walked through the dining area.
She bowed her head, presumably to say grace, and Steven shifted in his seat.
Gracie looked up. “I wanted to thank you again for sending me Justin Moore’s contact information. I feel hopeful about what he’ll add to the investigation. Is he fast with results?”
“It depends on the case.” Steven remembered his old friend’s assessment of Gracie. In a candlelit room, wearing a curve-defining dress, he concurred. More than beautiful, she possessed something deeper. From the inside out.
Gracie carried the conversation with talk of her parents, her sister, and dreams for the future. Most of it centered on seeing her family’s killer locked in jail.
Steven understood that drive for justice. Sometimes it was his singular motivation for getting out of bed. Putting criminals away and watching his son grow. The entirety of his existence.
“I look forward to having James in my class soon. He’s a precious little boy.”
Steven nodded. “James is looking forward to September too.” So was he. To seeing Gracie’s smiling face each morning at Hope Ridge.
As their meal drew to a close with the chocolate soufflé and crème brûlée almost gone. Steven wasn’t ready to say good night. Putting off tomorrow’s inevitable headaches with Gracie’s easy company beat staring at his white ceiling any day. “Are you up for a walking tour? I thought you might be interested in seeing some of the historic sites.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“James and I used to walk the trails throughout downtown. It’s a beautiful place.” Romantic, even. Not that he’d thought about that when he was carting James around.
Steven remembered his son’s flurry of questions before he left the house. Prime among them, “Are you going to kiss her Dad?”
He imagined their after-dinner stroll. He’d stop on the cobblestone path that led down to the Potomac and draw Gracie against his chest. Then he’d cup her blushing cheeks in his hands. Bending down with a slow, restrained movement—
“A penny for your thoughts, Steven?”
“I think they’re worth a little more than that.” He stood and pulled out Gracie’s chair.
She raised her eyebrows. “This should be good.”
“James asked if I was going to kiss you tonight. I was thinking about a moonlight walk and wondering if I could keep to what I told him.”
“Which was what? Gentlemen don’t kiss on first dates?”
Steven let out a hearty laugh. “That’s exactly what I said.”
It felt nice to spend a Friday night out. On the arm of a handsome man, strolling the sidewalks through Old Town Alexandria, a cool breeze whispering through the trees.
A few starry-eyed couples passed them, each captivated by the other’s words. Gracie sighed. Beth and Leah would squeal at her replay of tonight.
“This is wonderful, Steven. Thank you so much for an enchanting evening.”
“My pleasure.”
They walked along in comfortable silence. But curiosity about Steven’s ex-wife spilled from her mouth before she could sensor it. “Would you mind telling me a little about James’s mother?”
Pain flashed in his blue eyes. She regretted asking. Once again, inquisitiveness landed her in a tight spot. “Never mind.” So much for setting the stage for a follow-up date.
“It’s okay. My ex-wife isn’t a favorite topic, but since you’ve been so open with me, I figure your request is a fair one.”
Steven turned them back toward the Morrison House, passing the Old Apothecary Shop on their way “We married right after Angela finished law school. I went to church; she didn’t. By the time James came along, we’d grown so far apart we hardly talked. I threw myself into work; Angela invested her time in another man and left when James was a baby.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Steven shrugged. Then his cell phone played the COPS theme. A fitting ring tone, but a frustrating interruption.
“Kessler.”
Gracie watched her first date dissolve into clipped sentences barked through a cell phone and hurried footsteps to Steven’s Explorer. She pushed the disappointment aside.
Steven held her door open. “I’m sorry Gracie. I’ll have to drop you off in a hurry. Thankfully your house is on the way to where I need to be.”
“Is this typical for your work?”
“Yes and no.” He drove like a NASCAR racer through the dark residential roads of Alexandria, cell phone cradled between his neck and shoulder, more curt sentences blasting into the little silver receptor. When he wasn’t talking, his jaw muscles made slicing side to side movements.
Maybe dating needed to return to the back burner of her life. She hadn’t invested much beyond time so far. And between ex-wives and work stress, Steven seemed less like a prince and more an example of twenty-first-century reality.
A world she and Mark had never known.
Steven pulled into her subdivision. At the first stop sign, he turned his head toward her. “I’m really sorry Gracie. Work is erratic and demanding. But if tonight goes like my partner believes it will, life will return to normal. Good, even.” He continued to drive and took a right onto her street.
“How about next Friday? I’ll make it up to you with an uninterrupted date.”
She tried not to get her hopes up again. “Sounds like a plan.” She’d give him one more evening.
One date didn’t a future make. Not with anyone but Mark.
<
br /> Steven pulled into her driveway. “I’ll call this week.” He slipped around to open her door and then hurried back to the driver’s side.
“Good night, Steven.” No chance of breaking Steven’s word to his son about gentlemen and first dates. Better not to awaken long-dormant stirrings with a kiss either.
His SUV disappeared from her street.
Whatever next week held—good or bad—she would walk away with a smile. She’d passed a hurdle. Enjoyed an evening out on the town. Beth would be proud. Leah too.
Even if nothing came of it.
13
Gordon removed Olivia’s hood and duct tape.
The seventeen-year-old winced, and her blue eyes watered as she stayed motionless on the floor. But she held her insufferable screams. He supposed a Glock pointed at the heart had that effect.
Gordon unlatched the girl’s shackles and took stock. Week-old makeup and stringy blond hair had Olivia looking like a trashed Harrods mannequin.
Charlotte watched every movement with wide eyes and both hands over her mouth.
Sir Walter Kensington would be livid.
He shrugged. What harm could his brother’s killer do to him now?
Olivia blinked hard against the bald light that did little more than throw the evening’s shadows a step away. But when she fussed over the dirty miniskirt, Gordon had his fill and jerked her to her feet.
“Go easy with her.” Charlotte clutched his arm, but he shifted her out of the way.
“Who are you?” Olivia turned her face from his and stared straight into his sister’s wide eyes without any clue who she was. Chameleon talents and a vast array of disguises to choose from proved widely helpful. “How could you help this monster? He killed my friend!” The youth dissolved into tears. Gordon pushed her away.
“No, Olivia.” Charlotte sank onto the dank floor with the sniveling teen and reached out to stroke her hair.
Olivia slapped at her hand.
“Jordan is home with her family. She’s fine, dear. Just fine.”
What an idiot his sister could be. Especially driving out here in pearls and ridiculous heels with her long red wig flying everywhere. Only to wallow on the floor so as to give the young Kensington a pat or two.