“There’s a chance. He’s been at the same firm for a long time. I’ll give him a call.”
Matt came in again and glanced in Sophie’s direction. He skulked to the refrigerator and stared inside, as if waiting for his choice to jump into his hands.
“Thanks. I owe you one. I’ll do more digging too.” She hung up.
“What’s up, Matt?”
He finally selected the orange juice, reached into the cabinet for a tall glass then poured. “Tomorrow afternoon, after church, can we go bowling at Sal’s Lanes?”
“Sure. You can go.”
“No. I mean all of us. Tia wants to bring two of her friends and I want to bring some of mine. Since the stupid law says I can’t drive with them until I’ve had my license a full year, you need to take us.”
“Oh. We really means me driving you there?”
He tipped back the large glass and nodded.
“Sure, but I can only fit five in my car.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’ve got another driver. You can take me, Tia, Katie, and Alyssa.”
“Okay. Any time after one-thirty is good.” She hopped off the stool to take a shower. “Who else is going?”
“Trevor Trafford and Pat. Mr. J’s driving them.”
Duncan. Guilt over the call to Marcus swarmed her conscience, but she swatted the horrible feeling aside. “Has Patrick ever been duck pin bowling before?”
“Nope.” Matt downed the juice remains. “Neither has Pat’s dad.” Leaving the glass on the counter, he headed toward the hallway. “Maybe you can play a few games with Mr. J.”
“Sure.”
She should’ve talked to Duncan more about Trent, not called Marcus.
“Matt?”
He stopped and looked back.
“Glass in the dishwasher, mister.”
* * * *
“Then this guy tells me to turn at a red school.” Trent threw up his hands and leaned into the kitchen table, moving closer to Duncan, nearly bumping his coffee. “I drive and drive. No red school building. Turns out he meant a teeny white schoolhouse, like they used a hundred years ago.”
Duncan hoped he calmed down by the time Buzz and Marion arrived. After all, this get-together was at his request. Trent’s edginess probably had to do with meeting Marion for the first time. It couldn’t be easy meeting his birthmother.
Trent’s adoption into the Jamieson family had never been a secret, but the details never interested Duncan. In late high school, Trent told Duncan he’d known for many years his real parents were from Northbridge, the town where they’d vacationed a few summers back. When his mother pushed for them to pursue the Tates’ property, Trent met Elmer Tate, who never showed any signs of discomfort with their history. Trent didn’t ask about Marion, only Duncan happened to meet her when he dropped by Buzz’s office in early December. When she learned who he was, her calm smile had vanished and she’d nervously said, “Nice to meet you,” then hurried out. Similar to how she’d acted the night he’d seen her talking to Sophie in the hallway at the zoning meeting. How would she act today while meeting her son?
Duncan sipped from his mug. “Buzz told me the historical society decided to restore the schoolhouse to its original color.”
“Whatever. Good thing I ran into your friend, Sophie. Her directions got me here.”
A jolt traveled up Duncan’s spine, not from caffeine. “Where’d you see her?”
“She was jogging. We had a nice conversation.”
Nice, by Trent’s definition, didn’t make him feel better.
Trent snorted a laugh. “You look worried. I didn’t tell her about your teenage crush.”
Duncan clenched his jaw. “Jesus, could you drop it? She knows, anyway. I was picking up Patrick at her house and we had a glass of wine. I told her.”
Trent’s brows raised then he shook his head. “Man, little brother. Didn’t any of my finely honed skills with women rub off on you?”
Duncan shrugged. “Look. You do what works for you. I like being honest.”
“Hey, she asked this strange question. Had we caught up with anybody we knew years ago? Did you say anything about why we’re really here?”
“No. Did she say anything else?”
“Only that Buzz really supported RGI’s plans.”
The questions made him wonder if Sophie was being completely honest with him. The harsh sound of his cell phone vibrating against the marble countertop distracted him. He got up from the kitchen table and glanced at the caller ID. “Hey, Buzz. Running late?”
“Sorry to call last minute. You know, I got up with good intentions of getting over there for breakfast, but nothing’s going right today.” A long explanation ensued, with several reasons why he couldn’t get there, all sounding made up. Was he uncomfortable, or maybe Marion? Trent would be disappointed.
While Buzz rambled on, Duncan snuck away from the kitchen and went to his office. Since the basketball game a week earlier, one question had bugged him.
He shut the office door. “We’ll reschedule. I need your help with something else, though. Has anything unusual ever happened on the Tates’ land? Anything that would concern Sophie?”
“Define unusual.”
Duncan almost laughed into the phone. Buzz’s caution sounded as pitiful as Bill Clinton’s request during a grand jury hearing, when he’d asked for clarification of “what ‘is’ is.” He understood why Clinton had stalled, but this reaction from Buzz, on a run-of-the-mill question, raised a red flag.
“Anything out of the ordinary.” A pause hung in the air and Duncan waited it out.
Buzz cleared his throat. “The Moore family settled the land a long time ago. They lost the property in a bet with Otis and Elmer’s father. Alan Moore’s always yapping about how he wants that deed back in his family’s name. That’s all I can think of.”
He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he didn’t believe him.
Chapter 21
“It’s the building with the big yellow duck, Mr. Jamieson.”
Duncan glanced in the rearview mirror at Patrick’s new friend, the bulky point guard on the school’s basketball team. For a big kid, he really moved on the court.
Duncan pulled into a near-empty lot. A large colorful sign read “Sal’s Duckpin Lanes…All That It’s Quacked Up To Be.” The flat-roofed, brick and mortar building had a plain façade, except for the bright yellow picture of a duck wearing a red bowtie on the front doors.
The three got out and Duncan went over to Patrick. “You sure you want me hanging out? I don’t mind taking a drive around Southbridge. We don’t get over here much.”
Patrick sighed. “Well, I didn’t say so before, but Matt said his mom is staying and likes to bowl. He figured you guys could play.”
“Oh?” The news lifted him. “Guess our bowling won’t infringe on your time.”
Patrick’s sheepish shrug suggested matchmaking wasn’t his thing and he ran to catch up with his friend.
Duncan had never even heard of duckpin bowling until his son mentioned the need for a ride today. Once inside, the greasy aroma of a concession stand made him crave a fry. “Rock Around the Clock” crooned through hidden speakers, a true complement to the dated interior. He half expected the Fonz to greet them. A thud, followed by a thunderous roll, resulted in the shattering of pins.
For all appearances, this seemed like any other bowling alley he’d ever visited, not that there were many. Upon closer look, however, the softball-sized balls and miniaturized pins told him it wasn’t.
“Hey, Pat!” Matt yelled and motioned from the far end of the lanes.
Sophie stood near her son and handed her daughter a pair of bowling shoes. A gentle panic settled in his chest. God only knows what Trent had said to her yesterday.
She glanced his way then cast a sweet smile. He caught his breath, only then realizing he’d held it in, and returned the greeting.
&nbs
p; The boys got their shoes and rushed over to the lower pit area where the other kids were gathered. Duncan went straight to Sophie, who stood next to a small round table, searching through her handbag.
“Aaaay…” She looked up and he flipped an Arthur Fonzarelli thumbs-up. “Is this place all its quacked up to be?”
Sophie grinned. “Nobody told me Fonzie would be here today.”
Snug Levi’s and a simple black fitted turtleneck showed off the natural beauty she possessed. He resisted the urge to take her in his arms, kiss her as he had the other night.
“Your friends Potsie and Ralph coming too?”
“Nope. I’m flying solo today. If you’re not too tired from running around in my mind all day, we could bowl a few games.”
Her brow arched. “Wow, last time I got fed a line that corny, I had heartburn for days.”
“Ouch.”
“Aw, come on.” She laughed. “All part of the act. The Duncan Jamieson I’ve seen in action has thicker skin.”
“So…that’s a yes?”
“Absolutely.” She motioned to the reception desk and they headed over.
Sophie hinted to the man who worked the register that they wanted a lane away from the kids. He gave a knowing nod and assigned one at the opposite end of the building, where they went and changed into their shoes.
“Ever been duckpin bowling before?” She slipped off short black boots.
“Nope.”
“Only a handful of lanes exist in the country, mostly on the East Coast. I think the game originated in Massachusetts. Although my grandmother told me she once read Maryland claims the same thing.”
“I’ve learned something new every day since moving here. Speaking of family, you met my brother yesterday morning?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” She stopped tying her shoe and thought for a second. “He’s different than you.”
“True.” Duncan tied his laces and adjusted the cuff of his jeans. “So your conversation with him went okay?”
“Sure. It was fine.” The slight twist of her nose suggested their talk wasn’t perfect. “He’s a little edgy.” She chuckled, tied off the other shoe, and stood.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing really. Just thinking about my grandmother and what she’d say about him.”
“Why would she say anything about Trent?”
Sophie’s mouth turned upward into a coy simper, as if she held in a private joke. “Nana believed a person’s name really spoke to some part of their character.”
He stood and stomped down his pant leg. “Really? What’s your name mean?”
Her perfect lips twisted. “Wisdom. That’s what she said. I’m not saying it’s true.”
“Any idea what my name means?”
Her cheeks turned soft pink. She quickly leaned over to tuck her boots beneath the seat. “No.”
He laughed. “Did you check mine?”
She headed to the score desk. “It’s silly.”
He followed her. “I’m relentless, you know? My business didn’t happen by pure luck. Maybe Duncan means relentless.”
She sighed and faced him. “Your name means dark prince. I don’t put much stock in these name things, though. At least not like my nana did.”
His humor deflated. There were times in his life when that meaning defined him. All those years he’d ignored the needs of his wife and kids, his focus on his work despite their protests for his attention. To outsiders, their life hid the darkness he’d kept inside, at least before Elizabeth jarred him to reality.
Sophie frowned. “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything. Sorry. Sometimes I’m too honest.” She shook her head, disappointment in herself obvious.
“I’m not upset. I’d rather someone spoke their mind. My wife didn’t.”
Sophie stepped over to the ball return and removed one. She frowned and stared at the ball for several seconds before looking up at him. “I’m sure you miss her.”
“Yes. I wish I’d been a better husband.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I buried myself in work for our entire marriage.” His mouth went dry, the admission out loud a tough one.
Sophie studied him without judgment.
“When we discovered Elizabeth’s illness, she’d reached the terminal stage. I guess fear of not being around for the kids made her pummel me with a dose of reality. Like how I should be a more visible father. You know, what you said about my name has some truth.” The honesty brought him some relief, as if he’d finally come out of hiding. “At least it did then. I’m glad to have found out before I lost all chances to make amends with the kids. Family matters.”
“Yes.” Sophie cupped the ball into her hands, staring down as if she detained a precious butterfly in her palms. “Family does matter.”
Her eyes lifted and the tail-end of pain vanished, but he’d seen the ache before. He wanted to ask why, even ask about her husband’s remark the night of the basketball game, yet pushing too hard might backfire.
She stepped closer. “We can’t change the past. Only learn something.”
“I’m trying. I moved here to bridge the gap with my son. Hopefully my daughter too.”
“Then I think you will. Here.” Sophie placed the ball in his palms, closed them together, then wrapped her soft hands around his. She moved closer, near enough for him to catch the aroma of her floral scent. “Don’t let this go to your head, but I believe you have some good prince tendencies.”
A stampede of footsteps startled them both and Sophie pulled her hands from his.
“Mom?” Tia’s chest heaved as she took several deep breaths, winded due to her sprint across the building with her friend. “Can I have money for food?”
“Sure, honey.” She went to her purse.
While he waited, he relished the moment of opening up about himself. It felt damn good, even created a closeness he never expected. The things he’d been keeping from her, though, stared him in the face.
* * * *
Sophie studied Duncan as he positioned himself at the lane. The two brothers were both nice-looking men, but opposite as sunrise and sunset. Duncan’s charisma shined bright whereas Trent’s snarky scorn brought her down. Duncan’s oval face, framed by soft cinnamon hair, had a touchable quality. Trent’s more slender profile and shaggy dark strands were aloof and sharp. Duncan’s broad chest balanced his comfortable midsection, the welcoming frame of a middle-aged man who enjoyed a good meal and exercised enough to stay healthy. In contrast, Trent’s lean physique and long arms had a moody rock-star vibe.
His ball rumbled down the wooden path and knocked over the two final pins. “All right!” He approached her with a hand stretched to receive a high-five. “Now we’re talking.”
She slapped his palm. “Nice.”
He stood behind her chair and rested his hands on the back edge to read over her shoulder. “Guess there’s no way this’ll be a three hundred game for me?”
She looked up to where he hovered. “You’re doing quite well. This isn’t as easy as it looks. I suggest you lower your expectations. You can’t walk before you crawl.”
“My dear, RGI never would have achieved success if I’d lowered my expectations. Besides, who just threw a spare?” He bent down, right next to her face, to read the score sheet.
The sweet blend of sandalwood and soap drifted close. She tried to calculate the third ball into the frame, but his presence had the same effect on her brain as a lobotomy. Besides his closeness, he’d shown her a new side of him. Until now, she’d believed his quest for the Tates’ land and his relocation to Northbridge had been driven by simple success and less noble motives. She’d been wrong. Plus, his comment about connecting with his kids seemed sincere.
After a third attempt at adding, Sophie finally got a number. “With two frames left in this game, you’re at sixty-three. Not bad.”
He frowned. “Not good either
.”
“Those two gutter balls threw off your score. You’ll do better next game.”
“Better be careful.” The corner of his eyes softened and his voice dipped, smooth as melted chocolate. “I find optimism in a woman sexy. Your turn.”
She stood and his palm slid to her mid-back, guiding her upright. He stared into her eyes while the heat of his touch radiated on her back and she wiggled into the warmth.
“Why don’t you show me how it’s done?” His tender pitch caressed her, spoken as such an enticing offer that he could’ve won a Grammy for best erotic tone used in a sentence.
She quietly whispered, “We’re still talking about bowling, right?”
“Maybe.” Duncan’s lip curled into a seductive grin. He motioned for her to step up to the lane, and then he took her vacated seat.
Through hidden speakers, Johnny Cash crooned with a reminder to keep a close watch on your heart. She stopped and turned to look at Duncan, whose gaze rested on her. His handsome face, playful and relaxed, made her heart flutter. She willed it to land in his hands. Calm settled over his face. He winked and a slow heat crept through her entire body, her knees nearly melting.
He cleared his throat. “If you don’t go soon, this really won’t be about bowling.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad.” Desire shadowed his expression and she winked right back at him then turned to face the pins with a confident flip of her hair. Yesterday’s call to Marcus popped into her head, and with it a heaping dose of guilt over not having trusted Duncan. Wasn’t her trust all he’d asked for?
Stepping forward, she released the ball. It banged then rolled to the left and dropped into the gutter inches from the pin.
Forty minutes later, they’d finished their second game. Duncan rounded Sophie’s chair and sat beside her, in the seat meant for the unused lane next to them.
“Final score?”
Share the Moon Page 19
