by Meader, Kate
“For better blood flow and cleanup. Understood.” Before he signed off, she jumped in with, “Don’t say no immediately, Gunnar. If you find yourself at a loose end, think it might be fun to bond with your teammates, and want to show a future generation how it’s done, I will love you forever.”
“Not one of those three things is likely to happen. I’ve no plans to return to Chicago before training camp in August.” But the words sounded hollow and Isobel knew it.
“La la la, I can’t hear you and if I can’t hear you, it means you haven’t said no. I’ll let you sleep on it and will check in tomorrow. Have fun with your gutters!” She hung up.
* * *
Two minutes later—like the man knew Isobel had called, or worse, she’d called and told him—Theo was making his case. “Are you deliberately ignoring me, Double-O?”
Gunnar sighed. “Hardly. I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”
“So, has Iz summoned you to the Big Smoke?”
“You know she has. I’m not going.”
“What? I already told Jason you’d be here! He’s a big fan of yours.”
Jason was Theo’s twelve-year-old half brother. They’d recently connected in typically soap-operatic fashion. “I thought he was a big fan of yours.”
“That goes without saying, but he has access to me all the time. He’ll be at hockey camp and he’d like to meet you and get some pointers from a kick-ass center. That’s you.”
“Way to lay it on thick, Kershaw.”
“Dude, usually I’d be back home with my gran in Saugatuck, but I’m in the city because one, my lovely lady is with child and wants to be close to her OB and two, I’ve signed on to indoctrinate the kids’ minds with my unbelievable skillset. I need a wingman, man!”
“Get Hunt.”
“He’s in wedding planning mode, which is another reason why you’ll need to come back.” One of their teammates, Levi Hunt was tying the knot in July. Gunnar was looking forward to not attending. “We have to get him shitfaced for his bachelor party. Again, I need someone to help me plan all this.”
“He picked you as his best man?”
Theo went quiet. The blissful moment passed too soon. “Nah, he’s got some army dude lined up, but you know he’ll be useless. No one knows better than me how to throw a good party. So, you’ll need to be in town for Hunt’s bachelor shindig and wedding, my gran’s production of Cats, the musical, and the hockey camp. Oh, and the big Fourth of July cookout at Chase Manor.” Gunnar envisioned Theo counting all this out on his fingers. “I don’t know why you aren’t on a fucking plane as we speak. Here, talk to Ellie.”
Gunnar suppressed a groan. He liked Elle but he didn’t need the soft cajole of a woman. He’d much rather read the acerbic texts of his guardian angel. He hoped she was okay. He worried about her.
Elle came on. “Gunnar? You okay?”
“I’m fine. I should be asking you how it’s going.” To say the pregnancy had been eventful so far was somewhat of an understatement. But then this was Kershaw Country.
“All good. My back’s sore and I can’t drink and Theo could really do with some time out of the house, if you know what I mean.”
“Hey!” Theo’s objection was loud and pointed.
“How’s the serial killer cabin coming along? Got nice drapes?”
“All the better to hide my crimes.” He was starting to enjoy the joke.
Elle laughed. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to hang with your Rebels pals and bond this summer, pun intended?”
“You must really want to distract your guy, huh?”
“Desperately!”
Another hey cut across the line, then the sound of a minor scuffle from which Kershaw emerged victorious.
“Please ignore my woman. Her hormones are all over the place. I’m officially inviting you to be my right-hand educator of the youth during hockey camp. As well as getting to enjoy my most excellent company, you’ll also get to see Cats! On stage! Which my grandmother assures me is much better than the movie.”
Gunnar shut his eyes. His brother wanted him to stay with them but he couldn’t be around all that joy, not with his little ones so close to the ages of the ones Gunnar missed more each day instead of less. He really should be resisting this offer from Chicago but in truth, he liked Kershaw. He was a little tired of his own company, which would have been tolerable if Angel had texted recently. But she hadn’t and he was living in a cabin fit for a serial killer.
He was probably going to regret this. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
He ended the call on Kershaw’s whoop.
8
Four years.
Even her father’s lawyer was surprised. Apparently paying most of the money back, the loss of her father’s wife, and the minor child he needed to provide for weren’t enough to keep him out of prison. One year, suspended, the lawyer had expected. Four years was a shock.
But not the only one of the day. As soon as Sadie returned from the sentencing to the house in Andersonville, Mrs. Braithwaite, the imperious British nanny/housekeeper had left for good, citing her unpaid salary and general “lack of respect.” Sadie couldn’t disagree with her. No one should have to work for free.
Sadie looked up at the cathedral ceiling. The house where she had grown up had an eerie quiet, its once buoyant life force dampened to dust. Her father’s assets were frozen; the property would be sold at auction to pay legal bills and make restitution to the victims. Mr. Byron, the lawyer, had promised them three weeks, four max, before they had to find alternative accommodation.
Before the sentencing, Sadie’s father had reached out—through his lawyer—and asked that she be on hand “in case.” Well, in case was here. Sadie was on the hook for Lauren’s temporary guardianship, made more difficult by the absence of the redoubtable Mrs. Braithwaite. She had hoped Mrs. B would stick around to introduce, or reintroduce, her to Lauren. It had been nine months since she’d seen her little sister at Zoe’s funeral, and then she’d been stuck like glue to their father and completely resistant to Sadie’s efforts to make amends.
Chin up, old girl! (as Mrs. Braithwaite might say) How hard could this childcare lark be? In a few weeks, they’d be back in LA and in the meantime, Lauren was old enough to look after herself. For now, Sadie would drive her places in the car not yet seized by the courts. Food could be ordered. Friends could be bribed. It would be a full-time job, but Sadie would muddle through.
Instinctively, she opened her message app, ignored the twenty-three notifications from Allegra, and scrolled to—no, she couldn’t burden him with this. His life was turning around and she’d never been officially part of it anyway. Just a sounding board and a mouthpiece for smart comments. If she had a nickel for every time she’d thought about reaching out to him since she arrived in Chicago, she’d have enough to get her design business off the ground—or pay Mrs. B.
She inhaled a breath and walked into the living room. A brown, decaying Christmas tree, still fully decorated, leaned precariously to the left of the fireplace in exactly the same place the Douglas firs from her childhood had stood. The fireplace was filled with half-burnt and rotting wood and the place had an air of must. Otherwise the room looked the same.
She stepped around the high-backed armchair her father usually sat in, only to be waylaid by a hockey stick. Looking down, she met the dark, mercurial gaze of an alien pixie shooting fire from behind a helmet with a clear visor.
“Hey, Lauren, how’s it going?”
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
“Oh? Why?”
“This room’s off limits. Even she knows that.”
Meaning Mrs. Braithwaite, Sadie assumed. “Mrs. B’s gone out so I’m having a look around.”
She perched precariously on the edge of the armchair because the sofa was occupied with stuff. What looked like something moldy—shudder—peeked out from under a blue and white comforter emblazoned with the words, Chicago Rebels, and the logo of a sword cros
sed with a hockey stick. Sadie spied books, Pop-Tarts, a half-eaten apple, Skittles, a sketch pad, pencils, an iPad.
Lauren liked art? Sadie’s heart warmed at this thing they had in common. Maybe this could work.
“Lauren, I’m going to be around for a bit while we sort out next steps.”
Her sister stared with the dark silver eyes they both shared with Jonah Yates. Her gaze dipped down, taking in Sadie’s sober courtroom attire: a midnight blue vintage fifties style full skirt with a white wide-lapel blouse, which contrasted nicely with her red-gold hair. With her own designs, she usually went with brighter, bolder colors that absorbed and reflected the Cali sunshine. Not here. Chicago Sadie needed to look the part and be respectful of the people her father had hurt.
“Is Dad in prison?”
Lying would be pointless. “For now. His lawyer is going to do his best to get him out but it might be a few weeks.” And in the meantime, your home will be sold from under you, decaying Christmas tree or not.
“You’re staying?”
“Of course I am!”
“Because you haven’t visited before. Except when Mom died.”
Sadie snatched a jagged breath. Kids were so skilled at loading on the guilt, and this one had every reason to be pissed at her older sister.
“I actually lived here when you were little. I left when you were about two.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I wanted to do my own thing, find my way.”
She nodded. “Dad said you were selfish and didn’t give us a second thought.”
Sadie wouldn’t be speaking ill of the recently-incarcerated just yet. Round One to Jonah Yates. “I thought about you,” Sadie said quietly. “A lot.”
Look up tween skeptic in Merriam-Websters and you’d get this young lady, right here.
Lauren had made a nest for herself on the sofa, a messy one at that. Something else Sadie noticed: this kid smelled. Her hair was lank and greasy, her clothes had a distinct mildew odor, and was that a sleeping bag on the sofa? Sadie flicked another glance at the tree. It was starting to come together. The first Christmas without her mom, and her dad had tried to make it as normal as possible.
Sadie understood that craving for stability. She’d lost her own mother, Heidi, while her parents were in the middle of divorce proceedings. Sadie remembered the screaming, the slamming of doors, the threats to leave. When they finally accepted their marriage had run its course, it had been a relief. Sadie would live with her mother, try to make her happy, and hopefully escape the disdain of her father.
A boating accident on Lake Michigan changed all that. An inexperienced sailor, her mother died after a drink too many along with her then boyfriend. Sadie was thirteen, not much older than Lauren now, and left with her father who saw only the image of the woman who had cheated on him. Who saw only evidence of his own failure.
“How come the tree’s still up?” In June.
“My dad likes Christmas,” Lauren said, her voice hard with challenge.
“It’s not going to go anywhere,” Sadie assured her. “If you want to go to the bathroom”—and take a long, needed shower—“I’ll make sure it stays here.”
Lauren squinted at her, then back at the tree. “Fine here.”
Sadie sighed. She’d have to pick her battles. Before she turned away, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Surely it couldn’t be—it was! Benny, a small stuffed bear given to Sadie by her mom when she was little. She’d left it behind with her Chicago life and here it was, a connection to a past she’d thought long forgotten. With one eye missing and the red heart she’d stitched to his chest faded and hanging by a few frayed threads, he definitely looked the worse for wear.
It was like seeing an old pal. God only knew Sadie could do with seeing a friendly face right now.
“Looks like your buddy could do with some TLC.”
Lauren snatched the bear up. “That’s Iggy. Mom gave him to me.”
No, I did. And he’d reinvented himself with a name change. Good for you, Benny.
Now wasn’t the time to argue about the provenance of a ratty toy, not while Lauren glared at her from beneath dark matted tresses, shunning Sadie’s efforts to connect.
There would be plenty of time to bond. Four years, in fact.
* * *
“But won’t there be an appeal?”
Sadie’s friend, Peyton, managed to look prettily annoyed on the FaceTime call while Sadie kept half an eye on Lauren. Slashing through the air with her hockey stick, she was doing a decent impression of Rey’s training montage from The Last Jedi. Sadie swore she heard the faint cries of cute porgs.
Seated in her father’s high-backed armchair, Sadie absently flipped through papers on the side table—bills, bills, and more bills—and tried to ignore the framed photo of her father on his wedding day to Zoe. The family’s dog—Zoe’s dog, actually—a tobacco-colored Great Dane called Cooper, ambled in, sniffed at Sadie’s knees, then lay down as if she was the master of the house. She remembered him as a gangly pup. We all get old, buddy.
Sadie refocused on the phone call. “His lawyer didn’t sound too hopeful.” With a quick glance at Lauren, Sadie wandered out of the living room and into her father’s study, leaving her sister to get her cardio in by slashing at lamps. The dog shuffled in behind her, showing his age. He had to be at least eleven years old.
She sat in her father’s leather chair while the scents of her childhood filled her lungs. Cigars and Creed cologne. “The evidence was pretty cut and dried. The appeal before the sentence was denied, so now the only thing that might work is to appeal the harshness of it because of Dad’s grief over losing Zoe.”
“Yeah, but they must have taken that into consideration already.”
Sadie agreed but she was scrambling for optimism. “Maybe. Whatever happens, Lauren needs care now.”
“So your father was forced to give you guardianship. Quite the turn up after he tried to keep you away from your sister for all these years.”
Sadie couldn’t believe it either but she had known she’d be on the hook for Lauren’s care if her father was incarcerated. Who else was there? The notion that she was in a parental position to any being more sentient than a plant was mind-boggling.
Lauren wouldn’t like the upheaval of a cross-country move, but she was a child and didn’t get a choice in the matter. It would be awkward—they didn’t know each other after all—but someone had to fake being the adult here. Sadie had her job to return to, a cute and expensive apartment in Del Rey, and a wardrobe she missed like a phantom limb. Not knowing how her father’s appeal, if any, would go, she couldn’t stay here indefinitely with her life in stasis.
Her father had looked at Sadie only once during the courtroom sentencing. After it was pronounced, he turned, his eyes glistening with more emotion than she’d ever seen him show. Before the bailiff escorted him out, he said, “Don’t take my daughter away.”
My daughter, as if he had only one.
“He asked me to stay in Chicago and not to take Lauren to LA.”
Peyton waved dramatically. “You’re the one in control now, Sadie. What’s he ever done for you?”
True. He’d never been a great father, always with one eye on the prize, a standard that constantly shifted. A better wife, a prettier daughter, a bigger life.
Feeling antsy, she opened the drawers of her father’s big mahogany desk. “I’ll be here for a couple of weeks while I figure things out.”
“What does Allegra think?”
Allegra’s reaction to the news Sadie had to go to Chicago for her father’s sentencing—and possibly more—was definitely on brand.
How am I supposed to survive without you for two weeks, Sadie? My business could collapse in that timeframe!
“I can still be her personal assistant from here. By the time she wakes up in LA, I’ll already have half the tasks she assigns done-zo. I don’t need to be on site to do everything.”
But
it would certainly help. Out of sight was definitely out of mind as far as Allegra was concerned. Being unable to reach her PA twenty-four hours a day would be disastrous to her boss’s ego and Sadie’s bottom line. Sadie needed to cultivate that relationship to maintain any chance of getting her design business off the ground.
Reading her mind, Peyton said, “And you have to keep in with her. Though she should really have done something by now. It’s been almost a year.”
“I know, but she’s right. I’m not ready and I need a bigger portfolio of designs.”
Peyton arched an eyebrow. She didn’t have as much faith as Sadie when it came to Allegra’s promises to talk her up to designers she knew. Her boss had shown pictures of a Sadie original to that woman in her book club but didn’t get a bite.
The goddess knows when you’re trying too hard, Sadie. You need to put out more positive energy and watch it come back to you.
“Maybe you can have some fun while you’re there.”
“Fun?”
Peyton wiggled her blond eyebrows—or at least Sadie thought she did. So hard to tell with her Botox smooth forehead.
“LonelyHeart! You said he was in Chicago.”
Sadie curled in on herself, wishing she’d been more circumspect and never shared with Peyton that she was texting a lonely widower. Three months ago, she’d tried to put that positive energy out there, just like Allegra advised, by agreeing to his suggestion to meet up. His. Suggestion. A meeting he bailed on. Sure, something had come up at the last minute, but she knew the score. Part of her had been relieved. Keeping it in the ether meant they stayed inside the box they’d built to manage this, whatever this was.
“Nope. He’ll think I’m stalking him.”
She had already told him she’d be incommunicado for a while, ostensibly to keep ugly reality from intruding on what they had, but mostly because she didn’t want to force him to make a decision about another meeting. Texting and lying about her location was too much of a stretch. Better to keep it all separate.
Peyton leaned in. “When’s the last time you went on a date? The screenwriter?”
