“Take a breath, Tag.” He looked at the boy’s father. “What’s this all about?”
Desmond Sommersby’s face was somber. “Is there someplace where we can all sit, Mr. Ware? You and your brothers?”
Cal hesitated and then gestured through the doorway into the room beyond, his expression cautious.
Sam lightly touched the back of Danny’s hand. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“Okay.” Danny started to open the door so he could leave, mourning the goodbye kiss he now wasn’t going to get with the crowd surrounding them.
“Excuse me.” Desmond Sommersby looked from Danny to Sam. “If it’s acceptable, Sam should probably stay. This involves him, too.”
Sam looked just as lost as Danny was. What could possibly involve Sam that the councilman needed to talk to the four of them about?
“Um, okay.” Sam gave Danny a mystified look, and they followed the rest.
Once they were seated, Mr. Sommersby gestured to his son. “Go ahead, Tag.” His voice was gentle and encouraging, and Tag nodded. The boy rubbed his hands together nervously.
“It started when I saw a poster downtown, in the post office. The one about tonight’s city council meeting.”
Cal nodded. “I’m aware they meet the first Friday of the month.”
“Well, then I saw this last night at choir practice at church.” The boy pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and unfolded it, handing it to Cal. His hand was trembling.
Cal took it from him to read, and Danny grew concerned when the color leached from his cheeks.
“Cal?”
Cal didn’t speak, just handed the paper off to Devon. He read it, his expression stony. “Son of a bitch.”
Danny couldn’t stand it anymore. He jumped up, going to read over Devon’s shoulder.
The flyer was printed on cheap white paper. At the top were the words “Protect the Youth of Our Community!” in bright red font.
Danny’s eyes flew down the page. Someone was targeting Neverwood, and he and Cal in particular. There was a line about the “convicted felon and the recovering drug addict” running a youth group. It also said none of the men responsible for restoring the house for its stated purpose, that of running a home for “confused boys,” could be trusted with their charges.
Danny saw red. “Is this accusing us of being into little boys?”
Devon looked back at him. “I think the important bit is at the bottom, Dan.”
Danny read the bottom line. “‘Do we really need this sort of thing taking place in our community? Come to the city council meeting on Friday, May 5, where possible zoning changes will be discussed, and let your voice be heard!’”
Danny lowered the paper. Now his hands were shaking, too. “Zoning changes.” He swallowed a curse.
Sam held out his hand. “May I see it?”
Danny handed it to him, and then looked at Desmond Sommersby. “Please explain to me what it means by ‘possible zoning changes.’”
The man didn’t flinch from the obvious anger in Danny’s voice. “This is an old conversation, Mr. Redmond. I believe your foster mother went through this at least once a year during the nineties. Once the composition of the council became more liberal after the 2000 elections it didn’t come up as often, but before then...”
“He’s right about that.” Devon spoke softly, his tone dark. “Mom used to have to justify taking in gay foster kids and her government grants about every six months. I can remember her sitting in the kitchen surrounded by paperwork. She called it getting her ducks in a row for the shootout.”
“This sounds like my Aunt Edie.” Sam tossed the paper aside. He looked at Sommersby. “So what’s suddenly changed? Did the council get more conservative?”
“Somewhat. And the land this house sits on has become a good deal more valuable.”
“So what?” Danny snapped. “We own it, and we know what we want to do with it. What Mom wanted us to do with it.”
“That could all change if the city council votes to rezone it.” Cal’s voice was surprisingly steady. “Isn’t that right, Councilman?”
Sommersby nodded. “If the city council votes to rezone this parcel as part of the residential district of single family homes and not allow any exceptions, they can prevent it from being used as a group home.”
“How likely is that?” Sam’s eyes were narrowed.
Sommersby met his gaze. “Six months ago, I’d have said not likely at all. Audrey Rasmussen was well liked in Elk Ridge, even beloved.”
“And we aren’t.” Devon stood and began to pace restlessly.
“You’re an unknown commodity. All anyone knows about you is that you’re three of Audrey’s former foster children.”
Devon glared at him. “And therefore gay.” His voice was flat.
“It’s a small town. I’m not saying it’s right, or that I agree. But there is a small, vocal contingent that has a significant problem with it.”
Sam sighed. “And that’s where my dad comes in.”
“I’m afraid there’s a bit more to it than that.” Sommersby’s carefully maintained politician’s mask slipped for the first time. “It’s recently come to my attention that someone with a vested interest in this property has approached at least two of the city council members, offering them incentives if they vote in favor of the zoning changes.”
Sam didn’t flinch. “Incentives. Meaning bribes.” Sommersby nodded.
Danny and his brothers exchanged a knowing look. “It’s got to be Angus,” he muttered.
“That would explain why he was trying to talk to my dad after Mom’s service.” Sam clenched his hands into fists.
“Yes, it’s Eric Angus.” His eyes swung back to Cal. “And he seems determined to cause you as much trouble as he possibly can. His hope is that if you can’t use the house as a foster facility, you’ll get fed up and leave.”
“Not bloody likely,” Devon growled. The eyes he turned on the councilman were narrowed in irritation. “And you would know that because...”
“He’s made no secret of his intentions, Mr. McCade. And he approached all of the council with his offer. For some reason, he seemed to think I’d be receptive to it.” Sommersby glanced at his son. “He made an error in judgment.”
“It wasn’t his first, and I doubt it will be his last.” Cal looked at Devon, who nodded. “There’s something you should know, Mr. Sommersby. Something I found out just last night. You haven’t heard this yet either, Danny.” Cal gave him a look that clearly said, “We need to talk,” and Danny sighed internally. This must have to do with the note he’d slipped Will. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to discuss it first, but it’s pertinent.”
“That’s all right.” Danny sat on the arm of Sam’s chair.
“The reason Eric Angus is so determined to see us put out of this house,” Cal said, “however he has to do it, is because he believes it should belong to him. Well, to him and his branch of the family.”
Sommersby frowned. “The family?”
“He and Audrey were related. His great-grandfather and Audrey’s were brothers.”
“I’m aware of the Rasmussen brothers,” Sommersby said. “Maxwell and Dylan. They were involved with the railroad coming to Eastern Washington. In fact, one of my ancestors bought most of the acreage we own from Maxwell. He had a large house in Spokane, didn’t he?”
Cal shrugged. “I have no idea. I only know that, for whatever reason, Maxwell’s side of the family believed this house should have been left to them and not to Dylan’s heirs. Something about a second wife and her children. I honestly don’t know the details, and I’ll need to do more research, but that was all I was able to find out last night.”
“Well, there’s nothing messier than estate disputes.” Sommersby looked over at Sam. “And I’m sorry, Sam, but I’m afraid there’s a real possibility your father might be desperate enough to take him up on his offer. And knowing how he’s always felt about the work Aud
rey did here...”
Sam looked faintly sick.
Danny caught his eyes. “This has nothing to do with you.”
Sam glared. “The hell it doesn’t! My dad has always had an issue with this place because of me.”
“That’s his problem, Sam,” Cal said gently. “Not yours.”
“I’m afraid it might become yours.” Sommersby’s look encompassed all of them. “Currently the city council has five members, two who are openly in support of Neverwood, one who is adamantly opposed, and one who I happen to know has already committed their vote in the hope of eventually buying this parcel of land to develop. For them, it’s strictly business. That divides the city council right down the middle. And that leaves your father, Sam. I’m afraid his financial problems have been shared where they shouldn’t have been. If Angus has gotten to him...”
“Shit.” Sam pushed to his feet. “I have to talk to him.”
Danny stood as well. “I’m going with you.”
Sam shook his head. “Danny—”
He stared, resolute. “If you’re going in order to defend us, I’m going with you.”
Sam studied his face, and then sighed. “Okay, let’s go then.”
“Sam, I hope you can convince your father not to do this. There are kids here who need this place.” Desmond Sommersby’s gaze settled on Cal. “I want you to know I’m doing everything I can to counter nonsense like that.” He threw a gesture at the flyer. “Antidepressants are medication, not illegal drugs. Being gay isn’t something a person chooses, and it isn’t a crime.” He glared at the crumpled white paper. “That shit pisses me off.”
Tag looked startled, then grinned. “Jeez, Dad, way to blow that whole ‘man of the people’ act.”
Desmond Sommersby looked at his son with a fond smile, and Danny realized Sam was right. He wasn’t a bad guy at all.
* * *
Sam grew quieter and more somber the farther he drove. Looking at his strong profile, seeing the angry tic in his jaw, Danny had a hard time connecting this taciturn man with the ardent lover from the night before. But he could understand how disappointed Sam must be. Even though they weren’t close, Bernard Ignatius was still his father. Danny hoped he’d be able to convince him to change his mind, but he thought it unlikely. The good councilman’s opinion had been pretty clear. He didn’t like Neverwood, and he didn’t like what they did there. Danny hoped his presence didn’t make things worse. He hadn’t thought about that when he’d impulsively decided to come along. All he’d been able to think was he needed to try to protect Sam.
When Sam pulled off the street and turned down a long driveway, Danny looked with interest at the house where Sam had grown up. It was a rancher, long and low with white brick across the front and an enormous front lawn. A basketball hoop hung above the garage door, and Danny wondered if Sam had been the one who’d played. At even intervals trellises climbed toward the roofline and Danny recognized the withered leaves of wintering clematis plants. Wide beds containing trimmed roses were carefully packed with pine needles, and the arbor vitae down the property line were neatly trimmed and tied. He remembered that Sam’s mom had been an avid gardener, and wondered if Mr. Ignatius knew enough to instruct the gardener on what he wanted done to keep the obviously pampered yard intact.
Sam parked behind a blue mini-van and the black sedan, and stepped down out of the truck, his face grim. Danny followed, his hands thrust into his jacket pockets as Sam stalked around the back of the house, across a large slate patio to a set of French doors. He opened one and held it for Danny, then followed him inside.
They entered into the kitchen. Sam’s dad was sitting at a small round table going through a pile of envelopes, and behind him Sam’s sister Leslie was unloading the dishwasher.
“Hey, Sammy.” She came to her brother and kissed him, then gave him a fond hug. She smiled at Danny. “Hi.”
Danny gave her a small smile. “Hi.”
“Nice of you to join us, Samuel.” Ignatius put an envelope in one pile and picked one up from another. He pointedly ignored Danny.
“Dad, don’t start.” Leslie rolled her eyes behind his back.
“It’s okay.” Sam stopped next to him. “I need to talk to you.”
Ignatius looked up at him, and then glanced at Danny. “What? And leave your—company unattended?”
Sam’s jaw flexed. “He’s coming, too.”
His father frowned. “I can’t imagine what we could possibly have to discuss that would require his presence.”
“Oh, for God’s sakes,” Leslie scolded mildly. “Just go to the office and talk to Sam, and stop being rude to poor Danny.” She kissed her father’s cheek. “While you’re gone I’ll put something together for your lunch.”
“Please, no casserole.” Ignatius pushed himself laboriously from the table. Danny was struck again by how different he looked just since Sam’s mother had died. He was stooped, and his face was drawn and pasty.
“I promise, no casserole.” She ran her hand down Sam’s arm as he passed, and he gave her a weak smile.
Ignatius shuffled through a neat living room and down a dim hallway. The house smelled faintly medicinal, reminding Danny that until just a few days before a terminally ill woman had lived there. His heart went out to Sam, who was not only dealing with his mother’s death but now this, too. The night before had been a lovely stolen moment, but today reality had returned with a vengeance.
Ignatius went into a room and flicked a light on. Sam followed, waiting by the door until Danny entered, then closing it behind them. The older man lowered himself into a desk chair, and then looked up at his son.
Danny wondered if this was how it had always been when they talked. Did Ignatius sit behind his desk like some CEO and expect Sam to stand in front of him like an employee?
“So what was it you wanted, Sam? I have things to do this morning.” He wasn’t really rude, just dismissive. Danny clenched his teeth.
“I have a couple of questions.”
“About what?”
“About Eric Angus.”
Sam’s dad didn’t have much of a poker face. His mouth twitched, and he thrust his jaw forward before straightening. “What about him?”
“Did he bribe you to vote for the rezoning of Neverwood?”
Ignatius looked at Danny, and he was reminded of an old saying. If looks could kill, he’d surely be dead. “Did you try to convince my son—”
Danny held up his hands palm out, but Sam was already talking.
“This has nothing to do with Danny, other than Angus trying to maneuver him and his brothers into selling their home. And you didn’t answer my question.”
Ignatius huffed, looking at the top of his desk, his hands fussing with papers there. “I’m insulted, Samuel, that you would think I could be bought.”
Sam sighed heavily. “Dad, I know about the investments, and the second mortgage on the house. I know you’re in trouble.”
Sam’s father looked as if he’d struck him. “How? I mean, who...”
“Mom.”
The color, what there was of it, drained from Ignatius’s face.
“She was sick, not stupid.” Sam pulled a stool over and sat near his father’s side, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “She ran the household accounts for years, and the investments, too. Do you think she didn’t understand what it meant when you had the house reappraised two months ago? She knew.”
Ignatius’s hands began to tremble visibly. “I didn’t want her to know. But the chemotherapy and the radiation treatments were expensive, and the insurance would only cover so much.”
“I understand.” Sam sounded as if he truly did. “But you can’t play ball with guys like Angus. He’s crooked, and you know it. If you do it this time, trust me, you’ll have to do it again. We might not have always seen eye to eye, but I’ve never doubted your integrity.” He reached over and covered one of his father’s hands on the desktop. “Don’t do this for money. And don�
�t vote against Neverwood because you’re disappointed in me.”
Ignatius looked away from Sam’s steady gaze. “My vote would have nothing to do with you.”
Sam grimaced and pulled his hand away. “Jesus, this has everything to do with me. Can we stop playing games, for once? I’m queer, and you don’t like it. And having Neverwood and all those gay kids in Elk Ridge makes you nuts. It always has.” Ignatius grimaced. “But having Audrey’s foster kids in town didn’t make me gay and you can’t punish Danny and his brothers because the first guy I ever kissed happened to live there.”
That was a surprise, and Danny stared at Sam’s profile.
“I don’t need to listen to this.” Ignatius started to rise, but Sam grabbed his arm.
“You do need to listen.” He leaned forward, his face painfully earnest. “I have money put aside. If you’ll let me, I’ll help you. And I’ll take over doing your books for you, just like Mom did. Just tell me, have you already taken money from Angus?”
Ignatius’s eyes shifted between Sam and Danny and the closed door, as if he was looking for an escape route. Then they snapped back to Danny, and anger flared and they hardened until they looked like chips of granite. His expression became so openly hostile that Danny took an instinctive step back toward the door. Ignatius turned on Sam.
“How dare you discuss our private family business in front of some...outsider.”
Sam sat back, frowning.
“And how dare you accuse me of impropriety,” his father went on, gaining steam. “I have been a member of the city council in good standing for fifteen years, Samuel, and I don’t appreciate my son and his—” he waved his hand toward Danny, “—piece of ass...”
“That’s enough,” Sam growled.
“...coming here and accusing me of being for sale.” He pushed himself up, rising to his full height, his face red. “Get out of my house.”
“Dad,” Sam said, his voice tight. Ignatius pointed at the door, his hand shaking.
The Growing Season Page 15