“Jess, this is, ah, my son, Carter. Carter, this is Jess.”
“Nice to meet you,” Carter said politely.
“You, too.”
“I’m showing him the station.”
Jess nodded. “Not much to see these days. Most radio stations are run by a computer. No people required. Except for me. I make sure it all doesn’t break down.” His grin returned. “Like I’d know how to fix it. I’m really here to call in the tech experts if something goes wrong.”
Carter glanced at all the equipment. “So the computer says what songs play?”
“More than songs. Commercials, too. Weather, even local news can be synced in. I recorded a bunch of announcements about the festival yesterday, and they’ll play all day.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “New York Times bestselling author Liz Sutton will be signing at three today, outside Morgan’s Books.” Jess shrugged. “Stuff like that.”
Carter glanced at Gideon. “Do you ever do recordings?”
Jess chuckled. “He’s the man. Nearly every local customer wants Gideon to do the commercials. Chicks dig his voice.” He paused. “I probably shouldn’t have said that, boss.”
Gideon waved away the comment. “It doesn’t matter because you’re exaggerating. Half the people at the station work on commercials.”
“But I thought everything was on the computer,” Carter said.
“We buy blocks of on-air material,” Gideon told him. He walked over to the computer and showed him the information on the monitor. It showed where they were in the program, what was playing now and what was in queue.
“We can insert our own commercials into what we’ve bought. We can do local news, too. The whole system uses the atomic clock so the timing is perfect. No one can tell what’s done by us and what’s bought.”
Carter frowned. “Is that good or not?”
“Some days I’m not sure. There’s no way for a small station like this one to survive with live broadcasts. They’re expensive to produce.”
“At night, is it you or a recording?”
Jess grinned. “It’s Gideon. The boss does his own shows the old-fashioned way. You should show Carter what’s what.”
“Sure.”
They walked to the booth in the back, the one that no one else used because the equipment was so old. Carter slipped inside and sat at Gideon’s chair. “Look at all this,” he said.
The this was a stack of CDs. Some were compilations, others complete albums. Everything was numbered and neatly organized.
Gideon pulled a second chair. “I have a database I use to keep track of everything. I plan some playlists in advance, but not always. Sometimes it’s a mood thing. People call in with requests.”
Carter picked up the headphones, then put them down. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing.
Gideon grinned. “A record player.”
“You have records?”
“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Yes, I have records.” He pointed to the wall behind them.
Carter spun in the chair. “Whoa. Look at them.”
Gideon followed his gaze. The record collection filled a specially built case that nearly covered the wall. He would guess he had close to a thousand records, some collected when he was a kid, some bought in the past couple of years at estate sales and auctions.
“I’ve never seen a record before,” Carter said as he stood and crossed to the wall. “On TV and stuff, but never in person.” He glanced back. “Can I touch one?”
“Sure. But hold it by the edges or the middle.”
“Like a DVD.” Carter pulled out a sleeve, then carefully slid out the record. He held it reverently. “So, these are like, what? A hundred years old?”
Gideon sighed. “It’s from the ’60s.” At Carter’s blank look, he added, “The 1960s. Barely fifty years ago.”
“Fifty is pretty close to a hundred.”
“I’m ignoring that.” He held out his hand. “I’ll play it for you.”
Carter looked at the title. “The Beatles Second Album? That’s the name?”
“It’s actually the third album they released in this country. They’re a British band.”
Carter handed him the record. He put it on the turntable and carefully placed the needle so they would hear his favorite track, the classic “She Loves You.”
“Why do you like this music?” he asked as the first strains began to play.
“I can understand the words,” Gideon said with a laugh. “I like the message of songs from the ’60s. Life was simpler.”
Carter shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah? That’s a message?”
“It was at the time.”
Carter settled back in his chair and listened. When the song was over, he asked to have it played again.
Gideon studied the teenager who was his son. For the first time since Carter’s arrival, he saw him as a person rather than a problem. A kid with hopes and dreams.
The song ended and he turned off the turntable. “You’re going to have to tell me what I’m supposed to be doing,” he said, putting the record back in the sleeve.
Carter’s dark eyes flashed with emotion. “You mean about me?”
Gideon nodded. “I’m not exactly father material.”
“You’re doing good,” the teen said quickly. “I’m not that much trouble.”
“Nice to know. Should we talk about anything? You making friends okay? Anything with girls?”
Carter grinned. “I know about sex, if that’s what you’re asking. Besides, it’s a little early for that. Get back to me in a couple of years.”
Longer would be better, Gideon thought. “If you need anything or want to ask me any questions, you can. I won’t lie to you.”
“I’m glad. I’ll try not to lie, either.”
“I notice you didn’t promise.”
Carter smiled. “What can I say? I’m a kid. Things happen.” His brows went up. “You know, we could talk about me driving.”
“You’re thirteen.”
“It’s never too early to start.”
“It’s highly illegal.”
“Okay, but just so you know, you’ll need to get me a car when I turn sixteen. So you might want to start saving now.”
With any luck, he would start getting the hang of this “dad” thing before then, Gideon thought.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FELICIA SAT AT the long table, feeling more than a little out of place. She was used to meetings that involved moving a six-man team into enemy territory with two tons of equipment and then extricating them with less than three hours’ notice. That she could handle. A city council meeting was more than a little frightening.
She recognized the mayor, of course, and Charity Golden, the city planner. There were a few other people she’d seen at various functions. She was pretty sure the two old ladies sitting in chairs by the wall were Eddie Carberry and her friend Gladys.
“We have a revised agenda,” Mayor Marsha said, standing with several sheets of paper in her hand. Slowly she put on her glasses and studied the sheet on top. When she raised her head, there was a slight tightness in her jaw. Almost as if she were grinding her teeth.
“Someone made changes,” she said sternly. “Was that you, Gladys?”
One of the old ladies grinned. “Yup. We have a few things to discuss.”
“We, in fact, do not,” the mayor told her.
Eddie stood. She had on a bright fuchsia tracksuit that flattered her coloring. With her short, white hair, she looked like a cheerful, rowdy grandmother. Which she probably was, Felicia thought.
“The calendar last year made a lot of money,” Eddie said. “We need to do something like that again. We could become known for our sexy calendar.”
Felicia leaned toward Charity. “There was a sexy calendar?”
“Clay Stryker used to be a butt model. He brought in several model friends to pose for a calendar to raise money for the fire department. It was a big hit.”
“This is a town,” Mayor Marsha said slowly. “Not a club or a bar. We will not be known for anything but a civically focused calendar.”
“I say we do butts,” Gladys announced. “Naked male butts. You there. New girl.”
Felicia realized they meant her. “Ma’am?”
“Those men you had moving the boxes. They’re the bodyguards, right?”
“Yes.”
“Use them. Don’t they have nice butts? You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”
“Don’t answer that,” the mayor instructed. “Either question.”
“I’d like to know,” Eddie said. “I’d like to judge for myself. Why should she get all the fun?”
“I’m so sorry,” Charity whispered with a grin. “But now I have to know. Have you seen their butts?”
“Yes,” Felicia said primly. “But only in a professional capacity.”
Charity blinked at her. “That sounds interesting.”
“I didn’t mean it to. Sometimes they needed to get cleaned up, and we were still having a discussion. I went into the locker room. It wasn’t romantic or sexual, if that’s what you’re curious about.”
Charity fanned herself. “Oh, my. You had the most interesting job.”
“They’re whispering,” Eddie complained. “She’s sharing secrets, and I’m the one who deserves to know. This is my idea.”
“Mine, too,” Gladys said.
“Her, too.”
Mayor Marsha groaned softly. “Stop, I beg you. There isn’t going to be a calendar. Stop asking about it or talking about it.”
Eddie and Gladys both sat down. They weren’t smiling now, and although Felicia couldn’t explain it, she was sure they looked smaller somehow.
The mayor looked at them for several seconds, then sighed. “All right,” she said. “I was going to save this information for later, but I’ll share it now. We’re going to have another new business coming to Fool’s Gold.”
Gladys and Eddie perked up. “Are there good-looking men?”
“Several. Three former football players have a PR firm called Score. Raoul Moreno knows them. They came to visit him and liked the town.”
“Football players work,” Eddie said. “Maybe we can see their butts.”
“If we ask nicely,” Gladys said.
“One of the principles is a woman,” the mayor added. “Will you want to see her butt, as well?”
“Probably not,” Eddie said.
Felicia turned to Charity. “Are they always like this?”
“Pretty much. You get used to it.”
The mayor passed out the agenda. “We’ll ignore the added items,” she said.
There was a fifteen-minute discussion on a parking garage for the local community college, a report by Police Chief Alice Barns on how the usual summer tourist season was affecting crime, followed by an overview of the year-to-date budget.
Finally the council turned to the matter of the festivals.
“I see attendance was up,” the mayor said, smiling at Felicia. “The lines were very long at the book festival.”
Felicia stood and prepared to give her report. She mentioned the changes she’d made, along with some of the complaints she’d received. She talked briefly about the increased revenues and how next year they could support more vendors if that was what the city wanted.
“I heard most of those who complained at the Fourth of July festival were converts by the end of the long weekend,” the mayor said.
“Ignore the whiners,” Eddie called out. “You obviously know what you’re doing. Stick to your guns.”
Gladys nodded. “She’s right.”
“Thank you,” Felicia said, gratified by their support.
“While I don’t like to encourage them,” the mayor said, “I have to agree. We’re all very pleased with the changes you’re making. Stay the course, dear. This town is lucky to have you.”
Felicia nodded, her throat too tight for her to speak.
* * *
GIDEON CHECKED HIS watch again, then wondered if he’d made a mistake. He’d been in town earlier when he’d seen the display of mountain bikes outside the sporting goods store. He had the idea that it was something the three of them could do together. Not only would it help to fill the weekends, but the days were still long enough that they could go riding when Carter got back from camp.
But from the second he’d unloaded the bikes, he’d started to think he’d made a mistake. Carter might be too old, or think the idea was boring. What if Felicia didn’t know how to ride a bike? He didn’t like the worry, and he sure didn’t like not knowing if he’d done the right thing.
Before he could pack everything up, Felicia and Carter drove up the mountain and pulled into the driveway. He was stuck standing by the garage, the bikes right in front of him.
Carter climbed out of the car and hurried over.
“You got these?”
Gideon nodded.
“Wicked. I’ve seen bikes like this in a magazine, but I never thought I’d have one.” He went over the bike, calling out details. “Can we try them out now?” he asked eagerly.
“Sure.”
“Did you get helmets?” Felicia asked.
“Killjoy.”
She walked over to him and put her hands on her hips. “If you like, I can provide you with the statistics on bike safety and brain damage that results from bike accidents.”
“With a breakdown by age group?” he asked.
“If it’s important to you.”
If Gideon hadn’t already been climbing on his bike, he would have pulled her close and kissed her.
“I got helmets,” he said instead.
“Carter,” she began.
“I know, I know,” the teen grumbled, getting off his bike and walking over to her. “Helmet first.” He took his and put it on, then waited while she adjusted everything.
“I can do that myself,” he told her.
“I know, but I feel better doing it.”
Carter glanced at Gideon and rolled his eyes. “Women.”
Gideon chuckled.
Once they’d all put on their helmets the three of them set off up the mountain.
Carter led the way on the private road by the side of the house, pedaling fast. “We’ll go really high,” he called over his shoulder.
“There’s a lookout about two miles up,” Gideon told him.
“As long as we don’t go onto the highway,” Felicia said, keeping up easily. She was wearing khakis and a sleeveless white blouse, but her office clothes didn’t slow her down.
“No highway,” Gideon agreed.
“I heard that,” Carter yelled. “I’m old enough to stay safe.”
“No highway,” Felicia repeated.
“Is there a back way to town?”
“We’ll find one,” Gideon said.
The sun was high overhead, but the tall trees provided shade. In Fool’s Gold the temperature was probably close to ninety, but up here, it was a good ten or fifteen degrees cooler.
“When did you learn to ride a bike?” he asked.
“One of the lab assistants taught me.” She pedaled steadily beside him, her face a little flushed. “He thought I should know how. Later he convinced the professor in charge of me to sign me up for swimming lessons.”
“He sounds like a nice guy.”
“He was. I think he felt bad I was alone in the lab so much, but by then, it was all I knew.”
By then. Meaning she’d known something else before. She was so intelligent, he hadn’t given much thought to the connection between what had happened to her and how it must have felt for a four-year-old little girl to be abandoned by her parents.
“You must have had someone looking after you at first,” he said.
“The university hired a nanny to stay with me. There were houses for professors on campus. I was given one of the smaller ones at first, and there was always someone to prepare my meals and stay with me at night. Later,
when I was about twelve, I moved into one of the living units in the applied sciences building. There were a handful for the graduate assistants.”
“You were on your own from the time you were twelve?”
“Mostly. By then I’d published several papers and cowritten a book, so I had income to buy food. I saved the rest of it. Having a way to support myself financially made it easier to show the judge I was ready to be an emancipated minor.”
Despite his months of torture, Gideon knew that pain came in more than one form.
“You did a good job raising yourself.”
“I dealt with what I had,” she said with a smile. “I like to think my studies have helped other people, so when I have regrets about what happened, I remember that.”
“Does it make a difference?”
“Sometimes.”
Carter disappeared around a bend in the road. Felicia started to pedal faster.
“Don’t worry. The road dead-ends at the lookout. He’s got nowhere to go.”
“Over the edge.”
“You’re a worrier,” he told her. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Just because I can calculate the odds of various outcomes doesn’t mean I’m a worrier.”
“Sure it does.”
* * *
FELICIA WAS CONCERNED that Gideon was being critical, but from the way he was looking at her, she thought maybe not. If she had to guess, she would say his voice had a teasing quality to it.
They rode around the side of the mountain and found themselves on a large flat plateau. Trees and rocks provided a natural wall on three sides, while the fourth was a stunning view of the entire valley. She could see the town and the vineyards beyond. In the distance turbines spun in the afternoon breeze. Carter had leaned his bike against a rock. His helmet was on the ground, and he was standing with his back to them.
“What do you think?” Gideon asked, coming to a stop beside her.
Before she could say she was impressed, she noticed Carter’s hunched shoulders were shaking.
“Leave me alone!” he yelled without turning around. “Just leave me alone.”
His reaction was hostile, almost angry, she thought, taking in his body language. She saw the stiffness in his legs and the odd way he held his arms. For a second she thought he’d fallen and was hurt, but then she understood he was upset for reasons that had nothing to do with physical pain.
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