Was that a peace offering? Like it or not, this woman was Tyler’s grandmother.
Liz crossed to her laptop and hit a few keys, then she turned the computer so the screen faced Denise.
The older woman’s mouth dropped open. Color bled away and her eyes widened. She stared greedily at the slide show Liz had started. All the pictures were of Tyler.
“He looks just like Ethan did when he was young. Like all my boys.” Her breath caught. “His smile is different.”
“It’s mine.”
Denise glanced at her, then back at the computer. “He’s eleven?”
“Yes.”
“This changes everything.”
Liz didn’t know if she meant the fact that they now knew about Tyler, or the fairly obvious proof he was a Hendrix. “I know you don’t believe me, but I never wanted to keep Tyler from his father. I did try to tell him. The first time was a poor effort, but the second, I really thought he knew.”
“I believe you,” Denise said slowly. “But I can’t help being angry. We can’t get back all the time that was lost.”
Liz thought about pointing out that Ethan had been the one to sleep with her, to take her virginity, promise to love her forever, then dump her. That when she’d run, he hadn’t bothered to come after her. It was as if she’d never mattered at all.
“Are you going to keep him from us?” Denise asked, sounding both defiant and afraid.
“No. I never wanted that. My life with Tyler wasn’t about punishing anyone. He would like to have a big family.”
“He could have had one all along,” Denise snapped.
“And your son could have been more responsible.”
“Don’t bring Ethan into this.”
“Right. Because I got pregnant all on my own. That whole slut thing, right?”
Denise pressed her lips together. “No. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate that, but I have things to do.” The door was still open. Liz glanced toward it. “We can continue this another time,” she elaborated. “After I talk to Ethan.”
Denise hesitated, then nodded and left.
Liz closed the door and leaned against it. Talk about a tough twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t over yet.
EXACTLY AT SIX, ETHAN KNOCKED on Liz’s front door. Her SUV was still in the driveway. He’d checked on it a couple times during the day. Not that he actually thought she would leave, but he wanted to be sure.
The door opened and Liz stood there, glaring at him. “Right on time,” she snapped. “Probably because you’re so damn rested, having sent your mother to take care of things for you.”
She looked good. All fire and temper, her green eyes flashing. He was caught up in the sight of the freckles he’d remembered. In the dark, he’d been unable to see them, but now he could count them easily. So it took a second for her words to register.
“My mother?”
“She was here earlier. It was great. Because you yelling at me isn’t enough of a thrill.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t tell her to come by.”
“You didn’t have to. The Hendrixes all stick together. It was that way years ago and nothing has changed. You told her about me and Tyler, and she showed up. Are you really going to stand there and say you’re shocked?”
“No,” he conceded. “It’s totally her style. For what it’s worth, she’s the one who told me to be rational and reasonable.”
“It’s not worth very much.” She rubbed her temple. “I have to admit in all the years I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to have you involved in Tyler’s life, I never thought of having to deal with your mother.”
“She’ll do anything for the people she loves.”
“Like I’m getting on that list?”
“You know she’ll be there for Tyler.”
“A small consolation,” Liz said. “Right now the only thing I’m grateful for is the fact that she didn’t have time to tell me what having your son is going to mean to the Hendrix family name. How we’ll have to make sure we act right all the time and do the right thing, so the legacy isn’t tarnished.” She took a step. “Come on. He’s waiting to meet you.”
Ethan followed her in. He wanted to ask what she’d told Tyler, what his son was expecting. All day he’d imagined what he was supposed to say or do, how to make it everything Tyler wanted the moment to be. Before he could ask, or even swallow the sudden surge of anger that followed the concern, she stopped and turned to face him.
“He’s really excited and a little scared. I told him some about you—what you do, that sort of thing. Please remember however you feel about what happened, he’s not to blame.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s my son,” she reiterated, staring into his eyes. “I’ll do anything to keep him safe.”
A claim Ethan hadn’t been able to make until now, he thought, knowing he couldn’t dwell on the unfairness of the situation. Tyler was the important one here. The one who had to be protected.
“I’m not going to hurt him,” he said gruffly.
She sighed. “Just be careful. The ability to hurt someone is usually in direct proportion to how much that person cares about you.”
She moved into the living room, then called up the stairs. “Tyler. Your dad is here.”
Ethan braced himself for emotional impact. He heard slow footsteps on the stairs, then his son came into view.
Any doubts he might have had about paternity died the second he saw Tyler. The boy was all Hendrix. From the dark hair and eyes to the shape of his head. He looked like Ethan’s younger brothers had when they’d been kids.
An unexpected rise of emotion made it tough to talk. He was filled with longing and sadness, as well as wonder. His kid. How had this happened without him guessing Tyler was alive?
Liz waited until the boy stepped into the living room, then moved behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.
“Tyler, this is your dad, Ethan Hendrix. Ethan, this is Tyler.”
“Hi,” Tyler said, sounding uncertain. He stared at Ethan, then glanced away, before looking back.
“I was telling Tyler about how you used to ride bikes when you were younger.”
Ethan appreciated the help, even as he resented the need for it. “I was about your age,” he said. “My friend Josh had to ride to help his legs get stronger. We had a lot of fun together. In high school, we started racing competitively.”
Tyler stared at him, wide-eyed. “You grew up here?”
Ethan nodded. “All my life. I come from a big family. I went away to college, but when I graduated, I moved back home.”
“Mom says you have brothers and sisters.”
“Two brothers, three sisters. My sisters are identical triplets.”
“So you can’t tell them apart?”
He smiled. “It was hard when they were younger, but now they’re pretty different.”
“Do they know about me?”
“Not yet, but when I tell them, they’ll want to meet you.”
“Sweet.”
Liz motioned to the sofa. “Why don’t you two sit down and I’ll get some lemonade. We have freshly baked cookies, too.”
“We made the cookies after my cousins got home from school,” Tyler explained, leading the way. “They’re still in school until Friday. Melissa and Abby.” He wrinkled his nose. “They’re okay, you know, for girls.”
“Words that will warm their hearts,” Liz murmured, before she went into the kitchen. The girls were upstairs, out of earshot, thank goodness.
Tyler launched into a detailed description of his last few days of school, his friends in San Francisco and what movies he wanted to see that summer.
“Action Boy looks so cool,” he mentioned. “He’s starting middle school, like me. He picks up a special rock from outer space and gets super powers.”
“Super powers would be a lot of fun,” Ethan told him.
“That one starts in thr
ee weeks. Mom always takes me on the first day. We go to the early show, except this one time we went at midnight.” Tyler laughed. “I was still a kid, so I fell asleep. Mom didn’t mind and took me back the next day so I could see what I missed.”
Tyler talked on, the conversation growing easier with every passing minute. Apparently he didn’t stay shy for long. Ethan watched as well as listened, recognizing a few Hendrix family traits in his son.
The subjects themselves were conventional. School, sports, friends, his family. But the latter gave him trouble, seeing as Tyler’s only family was Liz. From what Ethan could tell, she’d been a good mother. Caring, fair and strong when she needed to be. And Tyler had thrived.
He supposed that some part of him should be pleased, but all he felt was deep resentment for what he’d lost. No, he reminded himself. Not lost. What had been stolen from him.
When Tyler ran upstairs to find a favorite video game, Ethan moved into the kitchen. He found Liz there, flipping through a magazine.
“You’re not rejoining us?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.
“I thought I’d give you two time together,” she said. A faint smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Afraid you’ll miss the cookies?”
Humor as a peace offering, he thought. While the sexual side of him could appreciate the shape of her face, the appeal of her body, the rest of him wasn’t so easily swayed.
“I want more time with him,” he said bluntly.
She closed the magazine and rose. “I wasn’t trying to keep him from you,” she began then shook her head. “Never mind. We’ll have that argument when I have evidence on my side. What did you want to suggest?”
“We have a minor league baseball team in town. They’re playing tomorrow. I want to take him.”
“Sure. What time?”
“The game’s at noon.”
“Okay.”
She was too agreeable, he thought, irritated. He wanted to fight with her, argue. He had too much energy and nowhere to put it. Apparently she could also read his mind.
“I’m not the bad guy,” she elaborated softly. “I wish you’d at least try to see that.”
“You kept me from my son. There’s nothing you can say to make that right. What Tyler and I have lost can never be recovered.”
She stared at him for a long time. “I agree I have responsibility for what happened, but so do you. And until you can admit your part of the blame, you’re going to be so caught up in the past, that you’ll miss the present and what you have now.”
“What do I have? A kid who doesn’t know me?”
“You have a second chance, Ethan. How often does that happen?”
CHAPTER FIVE
LIZ GOT THROUGH THE REST OF the evening and actually managed to sleep through the night, despite the lumpy sofa. She spent the morning answering e-mail and figuring out when she could see Roy.
Prison visiting hours were on the weekend. At this point she didn’t think it was a good idea to leave the girls home by themselves for more than a couple of hours. Not that they weren’t capable of handling things—she didn’t want them to feel abandoned. But she couldn’t take them with her the first time. She needed answers from Roy, and he may not tell her everything with the girls there.
Her last books had used a couple California prisons as a backdrop and she knew some people in the system. After making a few calls, she got through to a contact who thought he might be able to get her in for a midweek visit. Pleased, she opened her Word program and prepared to work.
But the second she saw the blinking cursor on the blank page, she found her thoughts straying from her plot to Ethan. He’d been beyond pissed with her and still was. She’d meant what she’d said—he would have to learn to let it go or he would never have a decent relationship with Tyler. Anger had a way of taking over everything. She should know. It had taken her months to get over what Ethan had done to her. In fact, she didn’t think she’d fully let go of her feelings until she’d written that first short story where he’d died a painful death.
Later, when she’d expanded the short story into her first novel, she’d moved beyond the need to punish Ethan. She’d hoped for at least a calm, adult relationship—one that put Tyler first. It was the reason she’d returned five years ago.
She closed the computer and stood. Apparently this wasn’t going to be one of those days when the work went quickly and easily. Maybe she’d been trapped inside for too long.
A quick glance at her watch told her that Ethan would arrive any second to take Tyler to the game. She could go for a walk while they were gone. Clear her head.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d gotten through yet another awkward meeting with Ethan, confirmed when he would bring Tyler back, done her best not to notice how great he looked in jeans and a sweatshirt, then watched them drive away.
And then it hit her. She wasn’t Tyler’s only parent anymore. Suddenly it wasn’t just going to be her and her son ever again. There would be someone else involved. Someone else in on the decisions.
A worry for another day, she told herself. After shoving a few dollars, a credit card and her cell phone into her pocket, she locked the front door of the house and started toward town. Three blocks later, she was walking through Fool’s Gold, noticing the new businesses and old. Morgan’s Books was still there. She remembered the owner from when she’d been growing up. She’d spent hours scanning new titles, writing down which ones she wanted the library to order.
Morgan had been a kind man who’d never minded the time she’d spent, despite the fact that she hadn’t bought a single book. Driven by guilt and maybe a little curiosity as to whether or not he stocked her books, she crossed the street. Before she could step into the store, she saw a window display of her latest hardcover. There was a poster of the cover, a good-sized picture of her, a list of several flattering reviews and a banner proclaiming her a “local author.”
Liz blinked at the display, not sure what to make of it. She’d never hidden where she’d grown up, but she’d never mentioned it, either. There hadn’t been any special events here in town, no book signings. Still, Morgan was treating her like a star.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The space was as light and bright as she remembered. There were books everywhere and immediately her fingers itched to hold and open every volume.
She loved books—the weight and smell of them, the feel of the paper against her skin. While an electronic reader took up less room than a stack of books, she had never been able to make the transition. She was a book person.
Morgan’s had a big table displaying new books. Hers sat in the middle, the new hardcover and all four of her backlist books. Several customers browsed. No one seemed to notice her.
If this had been any other bookstore, she would have walked to the information desk and introduced herself, then offered to sign any stock. But this was Fool’s Gold and somehow the regular rules didn’t apply.
Before she could decide what to do, an older woman glanced up and saw her. The woman’s eyebrows went up.
“You’re Liz Sutton,” the woman said in a loud voice. “Oh my God! Morgan! You’ll never guess who just walked into your store.”
Morgan, a tall older man with dark skin and warm brown eyes, stepped from behind the counter and paused at the sight of Liz. A moment later he winked at her. “I have three new books on horses.”
She laughed. The summer she’d turned twelve, she’d been obsessed with horses. Probably because being on one meant the illusion of freedom and being able to ride away. She’d come into his store nearly every day to ask if he had any new books on horses.
“I’ll have to check them out,” she said and crossed to him.
She’d meant to offer her hand to shake, but somehow she found herself hugging him.
“Welcome back, Liz,” he murmured, squeezing her, then holding her at arm’s length and smiling. “You’ve made us all proud. Your books are really good.”
&
nbsp; She felt both pleased and a little embarrassed. “Thank you.”
The older woman reached for Liz’s hand. “I’m Sally Banfield. You were in school with my daughter, Michelle. I’m a huge fan. I couldn’t believe it five years ago when Morgan told me you’d written a book. I read it and I was hooked. Your detective is one of my favorite characters ever. She’s just like the people I know, only a little smarter. But she’s real. With problems and everything. I felt so bad her boyfriend got killed in the last book. But he died trying to save her life. It was so romantic. My husband won’t even pick up his own socks, let alone die for anyone.”
Sally frowned. “I don’t think that came out right.”
“I know what you meant,” Liz offered, knowing any fan was a good fan.
“Have you moved back to Fool’s Gold?” Sally asked.
“I, ah, I’m here for a few weeks.”
“I can’t wait to tell all my friends I really met you.” Sally raced toward the door. “You’ve made my day.”
“Thank you.”
When she left, Morgan smiled again. “She means well.”
“I know. And I really do appreciate the enthusiasm.” Liz was willing to overlook the fact that Sally’s daughter Michelle had been one of Liz’s tormentors.
She pointed at the window display. “Thank you for that.”
“You write a great book and everyone wants to hear about a hometown girl doing well. You’re famous here.”
Something Liz had never considered. Her only concern when she’d found out she had to come back had been avoiding Ethan. Now she had to deal with the reality of interacting with an entire town.
“Famous being relative,” she corrected with a laugh.
“We’re having our annual book festival in a couple of months. I provide most of the books through the store. If you’re still around, we’d love you to sign.” He winked again. “Our local authors tend to be self-published, with an emphasis on crafts and legends.”
She had no intention of being anywhere near Fool’s Gold in two months, but Morgan had always been kind to her, so she didn’t want to be rude.
“You’re saying you’ll make more on my books,” she teased.
Almost Perfect Page 6
