“It’s okay,” he said, misreading her resolve for worry. He pressed his nose into her rib cage. “Nothing bad happened to me.”
The affection cresting in Darcy kept her voice from returning. Mute with gratitude, she pressed kisses across the smooth skin of his forehead. His skin was remarkably soft; a hint of baby fat rounded his jaw. He seemed nearly too feminine with his unblemished skin, rosy lips, and the thick fringe of lashes decorating his eyes.
He would become a man soon enough—why not enjoy his boyhood while it lasted? Grinning, she planted another kiss on his nose. She finished off with a loud, smacking kiss right between his brows.
Emerson wrinkled his nose. Although he welcomed the affection, a lovefest of this magnitude was probably too much for him.
A theory proven correct when he squirmed out of her arms. Beside him, Tippi laughed as she produced a handkerchief to catch the tears weaving down her weathered cheeks. The surprising events apparently left her addled.
Darcy barely noticed her distress. “Emerson, where have you been? Do you have any idea how many people are out looking for you?”
“Yeah, I know.” Sheepishly, he shrugged. Then he threw off his embarrassment to hook an arm through Tippi’s. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I’ve been with Tippi.” He propped her up as she finished drying her cheeks. “We were socializing.”
It was a weirdly mature response. “You were socializing for two whole days?”
“Yesterday, mostly. And last night. Tippi has an air mattress. She hides it because she doesn’t think Nella likes her to have sleepovers. You know—with the old guys Tippi dates. She knows a lot of old guys. She doesn’t like them sleeping in her bed, though. Lots of old guys thrash in their sleep. Anyway, we couldn’t figure out how to inflate the air mattress.” Oblivious to the sexual content lurking beneath the disclosure, Emerson blew out a stream of air. He resumed talking with a child’s effervescent flair. “Tippi’s couch is pretty comfortable. Did you know she has her own suite in Nella’s house? Three whole rooms, and her own mini fridge. Before I went over to socialize, I was out tracking cougars in the forest.”
“This is northeast Ohio, not Canada,” Darcy said. “There are no cougars in the forest.”
He gave her a look that reduced her to three inches in height. “Right . . . ,” he said with prickly irritation. “I was pretending. You know—using my imagination.”
A common practice for a child, surely. “If you were tracking imaginary cougars, why didn’t anyone see you?” He’d inherited more than her looks. He’d also inherited her stealth. A survival skill, in Darcy’s estimation. The dull Goodridge estate was no match for the call of the wild.
“I heard two cops talking on their radios, real loud,” he explained. “They were old guys—easy to ditch. Mostly they were looking down, like they’d find me under the leaves.”
“Wait. How did you ditch them?”
“By climbing a tree. It was pretty funny. They kept walking in circles.”
It was doubtful the police shared his amusement. “You should’ve called out to them,” she said. “It was wrong to make them walk around in circles.”
She winced. What right did she have to play sheriff to his outlaw? The reprimand was automatic, a protective instinct that seemed to surprise Emerson too.
Since she was on a roll, she added, “At minimum, you should’ve let your grandmother know you were safe. Seriously, Emerson. Do you have a clue how many police officers were called in to look for you?”
“A lot. They hunted through the whole forest.” He gave her a winning smile. “I kept watch with my binoculars. Want to see them?”
“Later.”
“How long are you staying? We have three spare bedrooms,” he said, cheerfully unaware of her familiarity with her childhood home. “They’re all nice. The biggest room has a flat-screen TV. Latrice hides up there to watch ESPN.”
“Well . . .” Darcy was loath to make a promise she was sure to break. “We’ll see.”
Tippi worked her gums. Either her dentures were coming loose or she was attempting to form a coherent thought.
The old woman thumped Emerson on the shoulder. He stepped aside. Without further ado, she dove into Darcy’s arms.
“Where have you been? You’re all grown up! Why didn’t you write to your Tippi, or call?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re a bad girl.”
“I’ll do better.”
“Oh, stop. You do just fine. You’re my little piece of golden. You always were.” From inside the nest of Darcy’s embrace, she reached out to tousle Emerson’s thick locks. “This one is too.”
“She taught me poker,” Emerson said. “But I lost ten bucks.”
“I won fair and square,” Tippi said. “Don’t complain.”
Darcy laughed. “Jeez, Tippi. Did you nab all his cash?”
“Only what he had on him.”
“I’m afraid to ask if you seeded the deck.”
Dropping the subject, Darcy brushed her chin across the thinning wisps on Tippi’s head. The strands of coarse hair swirled around a few bald patches near the top of her head. She needed a wig.
Darcy swiftly dismissed the observation. Releasing Tippi, she landed her startled gaze on the silver Audi coupe parked at the far end of the circular drive.
Nella stood at the vehicle’s passenger side. She wore hip-hugging jeans sure to make her the envy of every middle-aged woman in the county. A knit top of bold azure showed off her slender body. To outward appearances, she hadn’t aged at all.
No doubt Nella presumed it safer to remain outside while Emerson was delivered home. When she noticed Darcy, she offered a wide smile. She appeared delighted—and not the least surprised. Which was odd, since Darcy had never intended to set foot in Hunting Valley again.
The Audi’s driver-side door opened. A headful of dark curls rose into view, followed by wide shoulders.
Darcy’s pulse scuttled.
Michael eased his tall frame from the car. He moved with the slow motions of a man suddenly confronted by a ghost.
If the years had been unkind to Tippi, they’d been glorious to Michael. The lean, rangy build of his youth was gone, replaced by the thick-muscled build of a man in his prime. His features carried an appealing fullness. The first hint of crow’s-feet framed his eyes.
Blinking, he did a double take. Drifting forward on the balls of his feet, he caught Darcy’s eyes with a bold, probing gaze that dared her to look away. The intensity of his regard snatched her breath away.
Recovering, Michael snapped upright. His hand lifted in a tentative wave.
Just as quickly, his fingers stilled. A warning. His expression shifting, he looked past her.
Following his line of sight, she discovered Tippi shuffling into the foyer with her brows drawn low. She looked ready for battle.
A burst of Italian shot from her lips.
“Donna cattiva!” She raised an accusing finger. “Bad, bad woman.”
The hostile salutation froze Rosalind in midstep. Latrice, following close behind, nearly plowed into her. Latrice’s sexy pj’s were gone, replaced by her boring maid’s uniform.
Rosalind folded her arms. “Tippi.” She gave an elaborate sigh. “Go home.”
“Do you promise to be good to my little piece of golden?”
Darcy wasn’t sure if Tippi meant her or Emerson. An issue of little importance. The petite Italian withdrew a rosary from a pocket of her dress. She shook the beads at Rosalind like a voodoo priestess. The harassment was summarily ignored.
With focused calm, Rosalind appraised Emerson. “Finally, you’re back. Would you like to explain yourself?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m angry with you. Very much so.”
Latrice, hovering on the sidelines, grunted. “Get in line,” she muttered.
Rosalind maneuvered Emerson away from the simmering Tippi. She planted herself in the doorway with her cl
aws firmly clasping his shoulders. Darcy nearly laughed. If her mother feared Emerson would bolt again, her worries were unfounded. He looked exhausted from his adventures.
Rosalind asked, “May I inquire why you’re angry with me?”
“Not at the moment, no.” He slipped out of her grasp.
“Enough of this nonsense. I deplore obstinacy.”
“As do I.”
“Emerson Goodridge, do not test my patience. This isn’t chess. You won’t checkmate me. Now. You’re my grandson, and I’ve asked you a question. Answer me.”
“No.”
Darcy stepped between them. “Stop badgering him. Can’t you see he’s tired?” Taking the cue, Emerson darted behind her back.
Rosalind’s eyes blazed. “Stay out of this. You have no right to intervene.”
“Oh yes I do,” she tossed back, astonished by her own bravado. She’d let Rosalind defeat her, but she’d fight for Emerson. “I have as much right as you.”
“She does,” Emerson agreed from behind her back.
The inquisition ceased. With a gasp, Rosalind looked outside. Venom turned her eyes to jet.
Tippi made the sign of the cross as Rosalind stepped into the sunlight streaming through the door and fastened her furious gaze on the woman by the Audi.
Nella. Her nemesis.
Tippi whispered a prayer. Then she surprised them all by smacking Rosalind soundly on the wrist.
“Donna cattiva!”
With fist raised, she marched out.
Latrice hurried past, running down the steps to help the fuming Tippi negotiate the driveway. Michael met them halfway. Taking his grandmother by the arm, he steered her into the Audi’s back seat. Nella leaped in on the passenger side.
Michael looked back at the house. The pull of his gaze brought Darcy outside.
On the top step, Emerson’s camping gear sat in a heap. She collected his belongings, aware of Michael’s eyes lingering on her.
At last, he looked away and got into the car.
Chapter 8
As the Audi sped away, the full force of seeing Michael struck hard. Darcy was still recovering from the shock when she noticed movement inside her car.
She’d parked the Honda Accord in the shade to the right of the mansion. In the back seat, Samson stretched his arms with drowsy abandon. Dreadlocks swinging, he peered out the window. Noticing her on the top step, he got out and loped across the driveway. Amazement marked his features as he appraised the three-story Georgian mansion. He looked like a kid who’d woken up in Disney World.
Darcy hurried down the steps. Given that her mother had just fended off Tippi’s evil eye—not to mention the old woman’s spicy aggression—there was no telling how she’d react to another unsanctioned guest.
Samson craned his neck to study the house’s roofline and arched, Palladian-style windows. “This is where you grew up? You never said you were rich.”
“I’m not rich.”
“Are you stupid? This place is bigger than a hotel. Biggest place I’ve seen outside of the convention center in North Charleston. You could park this thing next to all those mansions on Charleston’s Rainbow Row and put the other places to shame. Does Latrice live here with your mama and Emerson?”
“Latrice pulls down a generous salary to tolerate my mother. All the gold in Fort Knox wouldn’t bribe her into living here.” Darcy stole a glance at Rosalind, who was gesturing wildly in Latrice’s face. For her part, the housekeeper was doing a fine impersonation of a ticking time bomb. It was anyone’s guess if she’d explode before Rosalind became aware of the new intrusion and went off like a Roman candle herself. “Unfortunately for Emerson, he can’t move out until he grows up.”
At the mention of his name, Emerson darted past the arguing women. Slipping out the door, he came down the steps.
Samson lit up a thousand-watt smile. “Little man.” He took Emerson’s hand and shook it heartily. “Glad to see you’re home. Your Aunt Darcy was mighty worried.”
“You’re friends with my aunt?” Curiosity and surprise fought for prominence on her nephew’s face.
“Best friends. I’m helping her find her North Star.”
“There’s only one North Star. No one gets to own it.”
“You’re wrong, little man. We’ve all got a star in the heavens, one made special just for us. I’m helping Darcy find hers ’cause it’ll lead me to my star. We’ve got what you call a spiritual connection.”
Emerson wrinkled his nose. “I like stars,” he said, apparently unable to digest the strange explanation. “I’ve never heard of having a special one.”
“Trust me, it’s up there somewhere. Keep your heart open. That’ll help you find it.”
Emerson studied the tiny shells woven into Samson’s dreads. “How do you get your hair to grow like that?”
“My dreads don’t come out of my head all done up. A lady in Charleston does the styling. Took her hours to finish.”
“She’s your stylist?”
“I guess so. She made me pay fifty bucks for the look.” Samson twirled a fuzzy lock around his finger, then let it swing free. “The sitting around is boring. By the time she got my hair all twisted up, I was itchy to leave.”
“Are you in high school?”
“I graduated in May.”
“You’re really short.” Emerson hesitated. Then he added, “But that’s okay. Mr. Leonetti says boys keep growing for a long time. He’s the gym teacher at my school.”
“He says boys grow past my age?”
“Sure. You’re not very old.” Having dispensed the comforting advice, Emerson rose on the tips of his tennis shoes. “Want to see my bedroom? I have a new Nintendo Switch.”
Darcy grinned. An undersized teenager and an eight-year-old awaiting his first big growth spurt: she wasn’t fully on board with Samson’s notions about special stars, but this was clearly a match made in heaven. She never would have guessed he’d bond instantly with Emerson.
“Do you have The Legend of Zelda?” Samson asked. “I like that game.”
“C’mon! We can play.”
Rosalind appeared in the doorway. “Emerson.” She swatted at the silver tendrils coming loose from her chignon. “You are not allowed to socialize ten minutes after being on the lam. You’re in trouble, young man.”
The warning had zero effect on the boy’s fizzy mood. “Why don’t you let me out on bail while we’re entertaining guests? Have you invited Aunt Darcy and Samson to stay with us?”
“They’re leaving.” Smiling tightly, she regarded Samson. “My apologies. We haven’t been properly introduced.”
“No, ma’am.”
“A pleasure, I’m sure.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The ice in her gaze made Samson stumble into a posture between a bow and a curtsy. Darcy resolved that if he decided to genuflect before the intimidating judge, she would drag him to his feet.
He was still quivering when Emerson thrust out his chin. “Why are they leaving? I want them to stay.”
“Your aunt has a previous engagement, and I’m still waiting for an explanation. Should we discuss a suitable punishment? I’m leaning toward removing all electronics from your bedroom.”
Amazingly, the threat of punishment didn’t make Emerson back down. “Why can’t they stay with us? I’ve got a whole summer vacation with nothing to do.”
“Your aunt isn’t welcome here. Please don’t ask for the details. I will not share them with you.”
At the rebuke, Emerson lifted high on the toes of his tennis shoes. He dropped back down. “Fine. Have it your way, Grandmother. Then I’m leaving with Aunt Darcy. She’s my family too.” He regarded Darcy. “I’m not bad all the time. You should adopt me.”
She grinned. “I’d like that.”
The ultimatum shuddered across her mother’s shoulders. She looked like a panting bull trapped behind the gates of Pamplona. Emerson, it turned out, was a fine matador.
Darcy smirked. Welcome to Spa
in.
Rosalind’s nostrils flared. “That’s enough.” For perhaps the first time in her long and distinguished life, she had been bested by a child—one she clearly loved. “You win, Emerson. Shall we all come into the house?”
A thorny silence followed them into the foyer. Latrice stood in the middle of the marble expanse, wringing her hands. Darcy trekked in behind Samson. She suffered the unheroic notion of finding the nearest window and jumping through.
Latrice asked, “What are we doing now?”
Rosalind inhaled with ill-concealed pique. “Ask my grandson. He’s presiding over these strange proceedings.”
The housekeeper wagged a finger. “Emerson, you scared me something awful.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“What a heap of nonsense. How do you think I feel every time you sneak off?”
“Bad?” The boy seemed to view the question as a test.
“That’s putting it mildly. I worry myself sick every time you disappear. Don’t do it again.” She broke out a big smile. “Would you like blueberry pancakes? I’ll whip up a batch.”
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry. Tippi keeps all sorts of cookies in her suite at Nella’s house. We finished them all.”
Snapping up her wrist, Rosalind glanced at her watch. “You were eating cookies at seven in the morning? Sugar is not a breakfast food.”
“I wanted clam linguine. Tippi couldn’t sneak it upstairs. Nella caught her.”
“How ridiculous. Linguine isn’t a breakfast food either.”
Darcy watched the interplay with rising agitation. Usually her mother was faster on the uptake.
At last, the full import of her grandson’s remarks blazed in Rosalind’s eyes. “You’ve been at the Varanos’ all this time? In their house?”
“Not the whole time,” Emerson said. “Yesterday Tippi saw me coming out of Nella’s barn. She snuck me into the house.”
“Were Nella and Michael privy to this?”
“Privy?” Emerson bit at his lips. “I don’t remember that word.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Darcy interjected. She offered an encouraging smile. “Grandmother wants to know if Nella and Michael knew you were in the house.”
The Road She Left Behind Page 9
