“Well, don’t you see your brother and sister?”
“Loren called me last week. He’s stuck studying for his finals all through the holiday, and Leslie’s about to start a new job with a good firm in Grand Rapids. Even I know that it’s not a good idea to take time off when you first start a job.” Sam smiled a half-smile. “And then there’s me. I’m still in school, no diploma at nineteen, and my only real ambition is to try and teach life skills to other folks like me.”
Remy smiled. “You’re doing great at it. Plus, I don’t know a whole lot of blind people who can fence.”
The mention of the word made the six-foot-tall Sam suddenly leap into position, his feet at perpendicular angles to each other and his stick pointed out like a fencing sword. In one graceful motion, he leaned forward and lunged, extending his arm and stick out as though he were about to run Remy through. Remy quickly turned his rake handle toward his friend and parried Sam’s lunge, and soon the two were locked in a good-natured bout of fencing. Sam finally followed through on a feint, jabbing Remy in the shoulder and claiming the “point.” “And I’m good at it, too.” He smiled.
“Hey, guys,” Evan called out. “Almost done? We’ve got at least one more yard to do before it gets dark.”
“Yeah, Evan,” the pair called back, scrambling to bag up the rest of the yard litter. Folding up the last bag, they scurried down the street, following the sounds of excited voices eager to collect their day’s pay. Behind them, a lone figure followed, keeping slightly off to the side and out of notice. He had been watching Remy and Sam with an appraising eye, and he had been mildly surprised at Sam’s miniature fencing demonstration. Not a sight I thought I’d ever see, the man thought as he casually sidled on by, escaping any real scrutiny through the din.
Chapter 5
“I hate winter.”
“Babe, you hate being cold. There’s a difference.” Evan came up behind his green-eyed woman and rested his head on top of her shoulder as the couple stood near the fire. The sounds of three grown-up kids snoring around the living room played like classical music to dance to. Pale orbs took in the sight of Remy sprawled out over half the worn white couch, his hand tucked inside a half-eaten bowl of popcorn. Sam lay next to him, his head tilted backwards as he used the opposite corner of the couch as a makeshift pillow and the particle board coffee table as an ottoman. Josh’s heart-stopping snores were muffled through the large floor pillow he laid on, his form nearly enveloped by a large fuzzy blanket pulled from his bed upstairs. “Looks like movie night was a success.”
“You mean after the hour it took for them to pick a movie or the second hour it took for them to make their snacks?” Rachel pointed out. Josh’s ice cream bowl sat on the coffee table next to the large bowl of kettle corn that Evan liked. Rachel’s thick blue robe was covered in cookie crumbs, and she could see traces of chocolate smeared over Sam’s face.
“Admit it. It was fun.”
Rachel smiled as she watched her charges sleep. “Always is.” Evan was content to hold her awhile, taking in all the things he never thought he’d have. A shiver raced up his spine, and he worked hard to hide it.
“Cold?”
“No. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Lots of things. Mostly about how I’m glad I came here.” He pulled Rachel closer, as though she might disappear if he let go.
“Came, or ended up?” the young woman said with a smile.
“Either way. Turns out having a blown engine wasn’t a bad thing after all.”
“Mmm.” The sounds of snores grew louder. “Rosa was asking about you the other day,” Rachel said. “Wanted to know if you were ready to sign papers yet.”
Evan sighed. “I can’t.”
Rachel broke from Evan’s gentle hold. “I get you’ve got some…issues, or whatever, but Evan, you love those kids. You love these kids,” she said, waving a sweeping arm at the sight before the pair. “If you can’t tell anyone, please, at least tell me—what’s stopping you? The projects are good—great in the summer—but I know you’d like something steadier. I can’t think of anything steadier than working for the school.”
The thin man walked back toward his chair and sat down, nearly falling into it. “Rachel, there are some things about me…some things I have to work out for myself.”
“Like what? Evan, I know you. I know who you are. Whatever you’re running from—and don’t deny that, pal, you are definitely running from something—I don’t care.”
“What makes you think I’m running from something?”
Rachel slipped into her own overstuffed armchair, keeping her voice quiet and even. “I’ve seen how you look at people sometimes, with this ‘oh, shit, they found me’ look on your face. I’ve heard you take on some of the biggest assholes in town with a voice you’re just finding. But honestly? I knew the night you came to the door, blown engine and all.”
Evan blinked back, surprised. “That obvious?”
“You looked as though I was going to call the cops at any moment. That’s the other thing I know—whatever you’re running from, it isn’t the law. You’re right, it’s personal and it’s your business, but…”
The two stared into the fire, letting the growing snores envelop them. “I had some…problems,” Evan began, his words halting. “In college.”
“Is that why you never finished?”
“Kind of. My old man wanted rich professional kids, nothing less—doctors, lawyers, college professors, that sort of thing. No creative or blue-collar work accepted. By the time I left high school, I already had an ulcer from the pressure. Then Dad comes home with my acceptance papers to pharmacy school, and tells me I don’t have a choice since he’s the one paying.”
“Pharmacy?” Rachel gave her boyfriend the once over. “Not in a million years.”
“Hey, you don’t know my old man. It wasn’t like I had any job skills—we came from some money, and Dad was a hell of a litigator—so no one saw a need for me to work through school. Problem was, I hated it. I hated school, I hated going to class, and eventually I hated even getting up in the morning. When I took my internship, the people at the pharmacy were all right, but again, I hated what I was doing.”
“Enough to try escaping?”
Evan shrugged. “I tried a lot of things, believe me, and nothing made it better. In the end I finally quit school. I just knew I couldn’t live with myself if I became the pharmacist my dad wanted. Of course, the second I quit, he told me never to set foot in his presence again. The next day my bank accounts were empty.”
“Shit,” Rachel said. “No wonder you don’t talk about home much.”
“What home? There’s nothing back there, not for me. I wouldn’t want my old man to know where I was anyway. If he ever saw me with kids like these guys, he’d literally die from shame.”
“Good thing. I wouldn’t want him near these kids. They’ve got to deal with enough assholes staring at them or making some comment.”
A bitter chuckle escaped Evan’s throat. “It’s part of the reason I don’t like Sam’s dad. He’s a great kid, the kind any family would kill for, but because he’s blind, the jackass would rather pay to make him go away than accept Sam for himself.”
“Speaking of dads, was there a mom in your picture?”
Evan shook his head. “She died when I was fourteen. Liver failure. We knew she liked wine, but…I think she was trying to distance herself from Dad, to be honest. Hell, I was pretty much raising my two younger brothers before that, anyway.”
“Brothers?”
“Yep. Let’s see…” Long fingers ticked off a count of years. “One’s twenty-six, and the other is twenty-four now. Andy would be in college. I don’t know what Ian is up to.”
“Wish I had brothers.”
“So there you have it,” Evan said. “My big dark secret. My father is a selfish, screwed-up bastard who didn’t get his way when it came to my future.”
“Hon, everyone’s got
secrets. I’m sure that’s not the only one, but at least you’re willing to be open about them.”
“God, I love you.” Evan pulled Rachel into his lap, kissing her.
“Right back atcha, pal.” The pair stayed like that for a few moments, then turned to the sound of Remy shifting in his sleep. “So, you were gonna wake them up, right?”
Evan thought about that a moment. “Nah. Let ’em sleep. Serves them right, not finishing the second picture after they fought so hard to see it.”
“Fine by me. Let’s put ourselves to bed, shall we?” A slow grin spread across Rachel’s ivory face.
Chapter 6
In a drafty wooden shack several miles from the middle of nowhere, a wiry black man with dark brown eyes pulled what was serving as a poor man’s winter overcoat tighter around his neck. The small propane heater had given out again, and the man sat at a rickety card table cursing the freezing weather.
“Why couldn’t the bastard have picked a warmer place to hide out, like Arizona? Or Nevada? Vegas is nice this time of year,” He breathed onto chapped hands as the permanent chill that blanketed the thin walls threatened to seep straight into his bones. “Damn, anywhere but here.”
“Was the last place anyone would look, Riley,” another voice said as the front steps groaned under two hundred pounds of built muscle. “Good Southern boy running all the way to the Canadian border? Not likely. At least he didn’t pick Iowa.” A round face grimaced. “Fuckin’ flat, boring-ass place. Can get good business there, though. Not like there’s a lot to do in Iowa.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Charlie,” his companion warned. “First things first.”
“How much fuckin’ recon can he do on the guy?” Charlie said with a whine. “See, if it was me, I’d just go in and mess the bastard up a little, make him hurt a few days, and then drop him somewhere he won’t be found.”
“And that’s why you’re not running this little operation,” a third voice said. The pair instantly looked up at the long face of their employer. “Our friend Liam owes me much more than that, and I intend to collect. Every goddamn penny.” Pale eyes blazed with fury at the thought of the man who had sent his nice, structured world into a downward spiral, and he pulled a cheap folding chair from one corner of the room and fell into it. His worn hoodie was trying to act as a winter parka, and it was failing miserably.
“Well, yeah,” Riley said. “There’s that too, but if it was me, I wouldn’t mind a little payback.”
“Do you know how much I lost? Millions. Millions!” A bony hand curled into a fist, pounding the flimsy table into submission. “Spauldings shouldn’t have to work for their keep.
Riley stared at the simmering man before him, barely listening to the man’s words. He’d spent the better part of three years listening to him rant and rave about wanting to get the asshole who had sent him to prison—prison! The nerve!—and left him penniless. Riley wasn’t much for rich brats, but this one, at least, had a game plan with some merit. It wasn’t like Riley had any plans once he got out anyway. A quick call to his cousin, Charlie, and they were on the road.
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Charlie said, his tone brooking no argument. “So enough with the recon shit. We know where he is, we know what he’s got, so what’s stoppin’ us from goin’ in there and takin’ what’s owed?”
“Gentlemen, you’re not seeing the larger picture.” The rage had died down, and now the man was speaking as calmly as a college professor about to gear up a lecture. “I don’t just want his money. I don’t just want him to hurt. I want him to suffer. I want him to suffer a lot. In every way imaginable.”
The cousins looked at each other. “The hell you on about, Dayton?” Riley asked.
“You’re only seeing what he has in terms of money. You’re only seeing what you can do to him in so much as inflicting pain.”
“Pain and money are real good motivators,” Charlie pointed out, leaning against a badly sagging wall. “Especially when you’re the one gettin’ the money and inflictin’ the pain.”
“We’ve been here a little over a month. What does he do for a living?”
“Odd job shit,” Charlie said. “Fixin’ things, runnin’ errands.”
“So a general laborer has millions to just give us? Not hardly,” the man called Dayton spat. “I doubt he’s got a pot to piss in.”
“He’s got himself a real sweet girl, though,” Riley commented. “And fine, too. Wavy hair, curves in the right places…”
“Women are good motivators,” Charlie said. “Especially pretty ones.”
“The bastard’s got it made, and we’re out here freezin’ our balls off,” Dayton snapped. He clapped his thick hands around his shoulders, rubbing them a little to generate some heat. “Damn heater conk out again?”
“Out of propane,” Riley said.
The flimsy table cracked into pieces as Dayton took his frustration out on the hapless object.
“Damn, dude, now where am I gonna put my coffee?” Riley sputtered.
“Figure it out. And get some more heat!” The cousins took the few bills in their employer’s hand, stomping their shoes onto the splintering floorboards and peeling linoleum as they headed toward the door. Few more days, Dayton thought. Few more days and I can get a plan into action…
* * *
“Open up, you stupid fuck!” The sound of a fist pounding on the office door sent James Vendell reaching for his secret stash of ibuprofen. It was already shaping up to be one hell of a day.
“Come on, asshole, open up!” a strong voice called out. “I know you’re in there!”
James sighed, then pressed a button underneath his desk. There was a buzz, then the click of a lock releasing, and instantly the solid oak door slammed flush with the wall it was hinged to. “What in the hell is this shit?!” Cooper Lavelle screamed, sparks dancing in his dark brown eyes. He clutched the wrinkled, half-torn remnants of a legal notice in his fist.
“I would think that is rather obvious, Cooper.”
“This is bullshit,” the irate man yelled. “That money is mine!”
“For starters, it’s your nephew’s money.”
“’S my money,” Cooper replied, his words slurring a little. “Bastard wants it, he knows how to get it.”
“No,” James said, pulling his short frame to his feet. “Remy’s not coming within a mile of you.”
“You know how that trust works. Says he only collects in his own right when he’s thirty. Last I looked, he ain’t thirty.” A loud thud resounded from the floor as a high-backed chair toppled over.
“I do know how that trust works, sir. I also know that your parents—Remy’s grandparents---disowned you and completely wrote you out of the will. You have no claim to any part of that money.”
“Seems a shame, then, that my poor brother and his wife up and died so suddenly,” Cooper snarled. He stood nearly over six feet, towering over the top the lawyer. “Kid has to live with a relative to handle the money, and I’m all there is left.”
“Your nephew is of age, Cooper. He can live anywhere he wants.”
“Not if he wants the money.”
“Now, see, that’s where I must be mistaken,” James spat, a dark cloud forming over his round face. “Remy seems to think he’s getting a check from the government. While he certainly qualifies for one given his disabilities, he’s never filed a claim. Why is that?”
“Fucked if I know. You’re so smart…why not,?”
“I think you told him the quarterly stipend from his trust fund was his government check. I think you don’t want him or anyone else figuring out he’s actually a substantially wealthy young man. In fact, I’m almost certain that you doled out just enough of that stipend money to Remy to make it look like he gets a government check each month, and squandered or hid the rest. I’m positive that you’re trying to shortchange your nephew and hoard most of the money. I think that when the time comes—not today or tomorrow, but at some point in the future—you�
��ll have hidden a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for you to collect once the trust either goes to Remy outright or is reverted to charity should something happen to him.”
“Prove it.”
The lawyer sighed. “I can—and have—spoken with the administrators of the trust, and they have agreed to name me as Remy’s financial guardian. As of this moment, not one more dime of that money will be sent to your door. His accounts have been changed, and your name is not within a thousand miles of them. Let me make this absolutely clear: if you go near that young man again, for any reason, you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Do you understand me?”
“Bullshit! You can’t do that! It ain’t legal!”
“I most certainly can, and it most certainly is. Good day, Cooper.”
The sounds of screams and profanity could be heard two blocks away. “What a piece of shit,” James heard his secretary mutter as she walked into the office, carrying a bundle of files demanding his attention. “Poor kid.”
“I know,” the little man said, sinking back into his chair. “I don’t think we’ve heard the last of Cooper, either.”
Chapter 7
“Come on, guys, its freezing,” Evan said as he held the saw in his gloved hand. “Which tree?”
Remy stared at the array of trees before him. The little group was miles from any tree farm or overpriced lot; rather, Evan had taken them into the woods to actually find what he called a “real” Christmas tree. Next to him, Josh was bouncing on the balls of his feet, brimming with excitement.
“That one,” the eighteen-year-old cried, pointing at a tall, fat Douglas fir with several branches missing.
“Josh,” Evan said patiently. “I don’t think it’ll fit in the house, do you?”
“Sure it will! We could just…we could cut it high, not so close to the ground.”
“That would kill the tree, and be a waste,” Remy said. He walked up to a smaller white pine. “This one. I like the softer needles, and it wouldn’t poke Sam when he runs into it.”
In the House On Lakeside Drive Page 3
