by Lisa Jackson
“From the fire?” Noah asked.
“And the water that was used to put out the flames. I’ll show you everything after we eat. Maybe then you’ll appreciate my position about the winery.”
The door opened and shut with a resonating thud. Sean strode into the room wearing cut-off jeans, a sloppy red sweatshirt and a look of bored indifference. His face was shaped similarly to his father’s, except that the sharp planes of Noah’s face were softer on his son. There was still a hint of boyish naiveté in Sean that he obviously tried to hide under a guise of insolence.
“Time to eat?” Sean asked, directing his question to his father.
“I think you can sit down.”
“Good.” Sean slid into the nearest chair and avoided looking at Sheila. His fingers tapped restlessly on the edge of the table. Emily took a seat next to Sean and began to chatter endlessly about a hike she hoped to take with him. Sean responded with adolescent nonchalance about the prospect of spending more time with the eager eight-year-old, but Sheila’s practiced eye saw the interest he was trying to hide. Three years of counseling teenagers had helped her understand both the kids and their motives.
The dinner was eaten under a thin veil of civility. Sheila had hoped that as the meal progressed the strain of the impromptu get-together would fade and a comfortable feeling of familiarity would evolve. She had been wrong. Before the dinner was over, even Emily could feel the tension building between Sean and Sheila.
Sheila attempted to bridge the gap. “Are you out of school for the summer?” she asked Sean.
Silence. Sean continued to wolf down his food.
She tried another ploy. “Would you like anything else to eat? How about a roll?”
Nothing. Noah’s anger had been simmering throughout the meal, but he had decided not to discipline his son in front of Sheila and Emily. Sean’s rude behavior forced the issue.
“Sheila asked you a question, Sean,” he stated sternly.
“Yeah…I heard.”
“Then could you be polite enough to answer.”
Sean bristled. “Sure.” His cool blue eyes sought Sheila’s. “Naw…I don’t want another roll.” He turned his gaze back to his father. “Satisfied?”
Emily’s eyes widened as father and son squared off.
“No, I’m not. I don’t expect much from you, son, but I do think you can be civil.”
“Why?” Sean demanded.
“Out of respect.”
“For what? Her?” He cast his disdainful gaze at Sheila.
“Cut it out!” Noah stated tersely.
Sean ignored him. “Look, Dad, I don’t need this.”
“What you need is to learn about acting with just a modicum of decency and common courtesy.” A muscle in Noah’s jaw began to tense.
“Back off, Dad. What I don’t need is some lady trying to be my mother!”
“Don’t worry about that, Sean,” Sheila interjected. “I have no intention of trying to become your mother.” With that, she turned her attention back to her dinner and finished eating. Sean cast a skeptical glance in her direction, and Noah’s dark eyebrows cocked. However, he didn’t interfere. When finished with her meal, Sheila again looked at Sean. “No, I’m sure you’ve done very well without a mother for the past sixteen years, and I, for one, have no intention of changing that.” She rained her most disarming smile upon the confused boy. “Now, is there anything else I can get you?”
“No!”
“Good.” Sheila placed her napkin on the table. “Then, if we’re all finished, you can clear the table while Emily gets the dessert.”
Sean’s face fell and his blue eyes sought those of his father, entreating Noah to help him. “Good idea,” Noah agreed amicably, but the glint of determination in his eyes demanded that his son obey.
Sheila wasn’t finished. She began stacking the plates and handing them to Sean. “Just put the dishes on the counter near the sink, and don’t worry about washing them, I’ll take care of that later. Let’s see, the leftovers go in the refrigerator. Use the plastic wrap to cover them. Can you handle that?”
Sean’s hot retort was thwarted by his father’s stern glare. Rather than press the issue, Sean scowled and nodded curtly.
“All right, now, Emily; it’s your turn.” Emily fastened her frightened eyes on her mother. Never had she witnessed such hostility at a meal. Nor had she ever seen her mother so tough with a guest.
Sheila smiled at her daughter, and Emily’s anxieties melted a bit. “You can bring the cookies out to the back patio. I’ll bring the coffee and Noah will get the milk.” If Noah was surprised that he, too, was issued an order, he didn’t show it.
Sean’s chair scraped insolently against the tiled floor as he rose from the table. His handsome face was clouded in an expression of disdain, but he managed to clear the dishes. Emily was uncommonly silent as she arranged the macaroons on a small plate. The tension that had been building throughout dinner continued to mount. Noah poured two glasses of milk and escaped out the back door. Emily soon followed. Sheila waited for the coffee to perk, while Sean put things away, making as much noise as he possibly could.
Just as Sheila was pouring the hot, black liquid, Sean exploded. “Maybe you can fool my dad, but you can’t fool me!”
Sheila was startled and sloshed some of the coffee on her wrist. The scalding brew burned her skin, but she remained calm. As Sean watched her reaction, she set the cup down and put her hand under cold water from the tap. Her voice was even when she addressed him. “I have no intention of trying to fool you, Sean.”
“Sure,” he sneered.
Sheila turned to face the tall boy, and she leveled her cool gray eyes on his face. “Look, Sean, I’m not trying to deceive anyone, and I expect the same in return. I don’t really care if you like me or not. You have the right to your own opinions, just as I have the right to mine….”
“Don’t give me any of your psychiatric lines! I know you’re a school counselor, and I’ll just bet Dad dragged me up here so you could do a number on me; you know, analyze me—try and straighten me out.” He threw up one of his hands in disgust. “I just want you to know that it won’t work on me. Save your breath!”
Sheila managed a smile. “Do you really think that I would bother wasting my time or expertise on someone who didn’t want it?”
“It’s your job.”
“No. I’m sorry, Sean, but you’re wrong. I’m not going to beat my head against the wall for someone who doesn’t want my help, and that includes you. As for what your father expects from me, it has nothing to do with you. We’re business partners.”
“Sure.”
“I think I will take your advice,” Sheila agreed. Sean tensed. The last thing he had expected was for this woman to concur with him. “I’m going to save my breath. I would like to try and convince you to relax and enjoy the weekend—”
“Fat chance,” Sean interrupted under his breath.
“Pardon me?”
“This isn’t my scene,” he spat out, and turned to glare out the window.
“That’s too bad, because it looks like you’re stuck here for the duration of the weekend.” Sean rolled his eyes heavenward, and Sheila poured the coffee into the second cup. When she picked up the tray, she cast a final glance in Sean’s direction. “Why don’t you come out to the patio and join the rest of us? Emily already took out the cookies.”
Sean whirled angrily to face Sheila. “I’m here, okay? That’s the end of it. I’m not going to sit with the rest of you and eat milk and cookies. That might be all right for Emily, but not for me. I’m not wasting my time babysitting your kid!” he shouted.
The screen door slammed shut and Emily came into the room. From the expression on her face it was evident she had heard Sean’s final words. Tears sprung to her soft green eyes as she stared at Sean.
“Damn!” Sean muttered, and slammed his fist onto the counter. His face burned in his embarrassment as he strode angrily from the room.<
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“Why doesn’t he like me?” Emily asked Sheila. The little girl tried vainly to swallow her tears. Sheila set the tray down.
“It’s not that he doesn’t like you, Em,” Sheila replied, hugging her child. “He’s just not sure of himself here. He doesn’t know you or me, and he’s not really sure how to act.”
“He’s mean!” Emily sniffed.
“He’s not trying to be. Maybe he’s jealous of you,” Sheila whispered into her daughter’s thick, dark curls.
“Why?”
“Sean doesn’t have a mother.”
Emily was puzzled. She pulled out of her mother’s embrace and with a childish imitation of adult concern, looked deeply into Sheila’s eyes. “I thought everybody had a mommy.”
“You’re right, sweetheart. Everybody does have a mother, including Sean. But, I think he’s unhappy because he doesn’t see her very much.”
“Why not?” Emily was clearly perplexed, and Sheila wondered if she had broached a topic she couldn’t fully explain. After all, what did she know of Sean’s mother? If she had interpreted Noah’s story correctly, Sean may never have met his mother. No wonder the kid had a chip the size of a boulder on his young shoulders. Sheila felt her heart go out for the stubborn boy with the facade of bravado. Emily was still staring at Sheila, and she knew she had to find a suitable answer for her daughter. “Sean’s parents don’t live together,” she whispered.
Emily’s sober expression changed to one of understanding. “Oh, they’re divorced. Like you and Daddy.”
Sheila’s expression clouded. “Sort of,” she replied vaguely. Emily seemed satisfied for the moment, and Sheila changed the subject quickly. “Let’s go out on the patio and see Noah before this coffee gets cold.”
“He’s not there.”
“He’s not?”
Emily shook her head. “He’s just walkin’ around.”
“Then we’ll wait for him.” Again Sheila picked up the tray, and with Emily in tow, walked out to the brick patio that was flanked by Oliver’s rose garden.
Noah had been familiarizing himself with the layout of the winery. His walk also gave him the excuse to vent some of the frustration and tension that had been boiling within him since he had left Seattle. The trip over the mountains had been strained; Sean had brooded because his weekend plans were canceled by his father’s hastily organized trip. Sean had pleaded to be left alone in Seattle, and when Noah had refused, Sean had ridden the entire distance with his head turned away from his father while he pretended interest in the passing countryside. He had responded to Noah’s questions with monosyllabic grunts. By the time they reached the winery, Noah’s tension was wound tighter than the mainspring on a watch.
Noah had hoped that Sean would loosen up by the time they had come within sight of the winery, but he had been wrong—dead wrong. Sean was more petulant than ever. It was as if he were intent on punishing his father with his abrasive behavior.
Noah’s frown twisted into a wry grin as he thought about Sheila’s reaction to his strong-willed son. The embarrassment Noah had experienced at the table had faded into admiration for Sheila as he had witnessed the effective manner in which she had handled Sean. Even Sean had been set on his heels by Sheila’s indifferent and coolly professional attitude. She had refused to be goaded by anything Sean had done. Noah had to hand it to her: she knew how to handle kids. Her own daughter was proof of that. It occurred to him that perhaps he would never be able to control his son. It was all too evident that Sean needed a mother as well as a father. Noah had been a fool to think that he could raise a son of his own. Ben’s warning, issued sixteen years before, rang in his ears. “You want to raise that bastard on your own? You’re an even bigger fool than I thought!”
The screen door slammed, breaking into Noah’s thoughts. He lifted his eyes to observe Sean racing angrily from the house. There had obviously been another battle and it seemed as if Sean had lost one more round to Sheila. Noah shook his head as he watched his athletic son run across the backyard, hoist himself effortlessly over a pole fence without once breaking stride, and continue at a breakneck pace into the fringe of woods beyond the orchard.
Noah’s thoughts returned to Sheila. There was more grit to her than met the eye. Stunningly beautiful, she was also independent and intelligent. Noah raked his fingers impatiently through his hair as he wondered if he had made a grave mistake in seeking her out. She was more intriguing than he had remembered, and seeing her in the setting of the burned winery seemed to add an innocent vulnerability to her large eyes. Noah felt as if he wanted to protect her, when in fact he had come to Cascade Valley expecting to confront her with the knowledge that her father did, in fact, start the fire at the winery. As yet, Noah hadn’t found the right opportunity to broach the subject. The more he was with Sheila, the less he wanted to talk about the fire.
Anthony Simmons’s report had been short and concise. Though the detective had produced no concrete evidence to name Oliver Lindstrom as the arsonist, the case Simmons had built against Sheila’s father had been complete. Noah knew that the insurance company was bound to reach the same conclusion as he had: Based on circumstantial evidence, it was proven that Oliver Lindstrom set fire to Cascade Valley hoping to collect the insurance settlement and pay off a sizable debt to Wilder Investments. Inadvertently Mr. Lindstrom got caught in his own trap, was overcome by fumes of noxious gas and died in the blaze.
Noah’s stomach knotted as he wondered how involved Sheila had been in her father’s scheme. Had she known about it beforehand? Was she involved? Or was she, as she claimed, looking for a solution to the dilemma? According to Simmons, Sheila had been polite, but hadn’t gone out of her way to help with the investigation. It had been like pulling teeth to get her to divulge anything personal about her father…or herself. Was she hiding something? Simmons seemed to think so. Noah didn’t. Still, it didn’t matter, the bottom line was that he had to tell her about her father and then gauge her reaction to the news. It wasn’t going to be easy. Either way she lost. If she already knew that her father was a fraud, she would come out of this mess at the very least a liar; at the most an accomplice. If she didn’t know that her father had started the fire, her dreams and respect for the dead man would be shattered. No doubt she would blame Noah for digging up the dirt on Oliver Lindstrom.
As Noah walked back to the patio he tried to find a way to help her rather than hurt her.
Chapter 8
Noah paced back and forth across the red bricks of the patio. The anxieties of the day were etched across his face in long lines of worry. It was nearly ten. The sun had set over an hour before and Sean hadn’t returned. He was obviously back to his old tricks of vanishing without a word of explanation.
Emily was already asleep in her bed. Since overhearing
Sean’s unkind remarks, she had been quiet. The girl hadn’t even put up an argument about going to bed, and Sheila’s heart broke when Emily reasserted her earlier assessment of the situation. “Sean doesn’t like me, and it’s not because I’ve got a mommy. He doesn’t like anybody.”
“He’s just trying to find out who he is,” Sheila had responded.
“That’s silly. He’s Sean. He just doesn’t like me.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like himself.”
Emily hadn’t been convinced as she snuggled under her comforter. Sheila had attempted to hand the child her favorite furry toy, but Emily pushed it onto the floor. “I don’t need Cinnamon,” Emily had stated. “Toys are for little kids.” Sheila hadn’t argued, wisely letting her child cope with the struggle of growing up. Instead she picked up the toy dog with the floppy ears and set him on the nightstand near Emily’s bed.
“Just in case you change your mind.” After her parting remarks she had kissed Emily lightly on the cheek and left the room.
“Is she all right?” Noah asked.
“I think so.”
“What was bothering her?”
“She took offense to Sean
’s notion that she was a little kid. She thinks she has to grow up all in one evening.”
“Sean’s the one who has to grow up,” Noah argued. “I don’t know if he ever will!”
“It will get better,” Sheila said quietly.
“How do you know?”
“It has to. Doesn’t it?” The gray intelligence in her eyes reached out to him.
“What makes you so certain? How do you know I don’t have the makings of a hardened criminal on my hands?”
Sheila smiled, and her face, captured in the moon glow, held a madonna-like quality that was only contradicted by the silver fire of seduction in her eyes. “Sean’s not a bad kid,” she pointed out. “He’s just not certain of himself.”
“He could have fooled me.”
“That’s exactly what he’s trying to do.”
Noah strode over to the chaise lounge where she was sitting. “How did a beautiful woman like you get so wise?” He sat next to her and his hand touched her thigh as he leaned over her to kiss her forehead.
“Don’t you remember what it was like when you were in high school?”
“I try not to.”
“Come on, admit it. Didn’t you give your parents a few gray hairs?”
“I don’t remember ever getting into as much trouble as Sean has.”
“Maybe you were smarter and just never got caught,” she suggested.
“Now you’re beginning to sound cynical.”
“Realistic.”
“Yeah, so it’s all business, is it?” Sean jeered, walking out of the darkness into the circle of light surrounding the patio. Noah, still leaning over Sheila, barely moved, but Sheila could feel all the muscles in his body become rigid. Slowly he turned to face his son.
“It’s about time you got back. Where were you?”
Sean shrugged indifferently. “Around.”
“I was beginning to worry about you.”
“Yeah. I can see that,” the boy snorted. His blue eyes sought Sheila’s in a condemning gaze. “You told me you were business partners with him, nothing more!”
