by Day Leclaire
“You’re sorry?”
“I’m sorry we didn’t think of this earlier,” her mother clarified. “Do you realize it’s been a full month since your wedding? Well, of course you do. Silly me.” More items disappeared into the box.
“Would you stop what you’re doing and—It hasn’t been a month. It’s only been four weeks.”
“Exactly. Far too long.” Ruth rocked on her heels and shook her head in amazement. “You’ve been so sweet, Danielle. You haven’t complained even once, despite the fact that this whole situation must have been agonizing for you. So your father suggested we help out.”
“Help.” This didn’t sound good. Not good at all. “I’ve lost you, Mom. Which agony are you all helping me with?”
“Why, the agony of moving, of course. Now don’t worry, we’re just getting some of the preliminary items out of the way this afternoon. The moving company will handle the rest. I’m afraid the earliest time they have available isn’t until next Saturday. Will that be convenient?”
“Mother! Just...just wait a minute, will you? You still haven’t explained why you’re doing this.”
“Because you haven’t had a chance to take care of it yourself. Darling, I don’t mean to interfere—”
“Yes, you do.”
Ruth made a face. “All right. I do. But it’s been a month since Abbey was born. All right, all right. Four weeks. The point is, I can’t believe you and Nick are happy maintaining two separate residences.”
“That’s none of your—”
“It’s time you put your family first,” her mother interrupted firmly. “It’s time you finished moving over to Nick’s.”
Dani didn’t dare admit she hadn’t even started. No sense opening that proverbial can of worms. “Don’t you think he and I should worry about it?”
“No need,” came the blithe retort. “Not anymore. And since Nick doesn’t object, neither should you.”
“Did he... Did he tell you that?” A horrifying thought occurred. “Did he arrange this?”
“Arrange for us to help pack? Good gracious, no. We offered. He said he’d take care of it when he had the chance.” She clicked her tongue. “The poor man. Considering how hard he works, I doubt he’ll ever find time.”
“Mom—”
Ruth beamed, waving a hand in dismissal. “No, no. Don’t thank us.”
Dani sighed. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
“It’s our pleasure, believe me. Just think of it as another wedding present. You sit back and relax and take care of my granddaughter. We’ll handle the rest. By next week you and Nick and Abigail will be one, big happy family snug under the same roof. Oh! And guess what?”
Dani didn’t want to ask. She really, truly didn’t. “What?”
“The sheets for Nick’s bed arrived today. Isn’t that wonderful timing?”
“Wonderful, Mom.” Dani groaned. “Just gosh-darn-it-to-blazes wonderful.”
“GEM.”
Instantly the television monitor flickered to life, displaying the nursery at Dani’s house. Nick didn’t even need to specify his request. Visiting with his daughter each morning had become as much a part of his routine as his shower. Gem had assimilated that fact.
He toweled off as he watched Abigail. She lay in her crib, awake and content, studying her world with wide blue eyes. The mobile spun lazily overhead, dappled sunlight reflecting off the various Disney characters. The computer was keeping her entertained. He heard Gem speaking in her newly acquired “whisper” mode.
He grinned as he began to dress. Telling the female offspring unit fairy tales seemed to be the current favorite. The Three Little Pigs, complete with sound effects, was in progress. Abigail cooed in appreciation.
A few minutes later Dani entered the room. “What’s going on in here?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.
“RESEARCH INDICATES THAT HUMAN OFFSPRING UNITS ENJOY THE RECITATION OF FICTIONAL STORIES ABOUT FANTASY CREATURES.”
“You’re telling Abigail fairy tales again?”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
“But, Gem, I’ve explained this to you before. She’s too little to understand.”
“FEMALE OFFSPRING UNIT DOES NOT COMPUTE?”
“No, Gem. She does not compute. Maybe when she’s a little older.” The phone rang, and Dani groaned. “Let me know if Abbey cries.”
“REQUEST UNNECESSARY. CRYING RECEIVES SECURITY ALERT STATUS ONE.”
“Right. Silly me.”
Dani left the room, and there was a moment’s silence. Then the screen flickered, switching to a view of the kitchen. His wife stood there, phone in hand, talking to her mother, if he didn’t miss his guess. He frowned. What the hell were all those boxes stacked everywhere?
“Gem, you know the rules,” he instructed, thrusting his arms into a crisp white dress shirt. “The nursery is the only room you’re permitted to video unless there’s an emergency.”
“AFFIRMATIVE.” The next instant, Abigail filled the screen again. A wolf’s howl whistled through the speakers—a very muted wolf’s howl—and the story resumed.
Nick shook his head. “Waiting until Dani’s out of the way is very sneaky, Gem. I don’t remember programming you with a stealth mode.”
“PROGRAMMING ACCESSED AT THE TOY COMPANY,” came the smug retort.
“We’ve discussed picking up stray programs before, Gem. It can compromise your system. Download file onto computer thirty-four. I’ll examine it later. Screen off.”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
Beside him, the phone rang. He knew without answering that it would be Dani. “Speaker on. Colter, here.”
“Nick?” Her greeting escaped in a nervous rush.
“What’s wrong, Dani?”
“I need your help. There’s...there’s a problem.”
“I’m always happy to help my wife. What’s the problem?”
He waited patiently and after a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat. “The truth is, my parents were here yesterday and they’ve packed up most of my belongings.”
Nick kept the amusement well clear of his voice as he worked the buttons of his shirt. “Are you moving somewhere?”
“Dammit, Nick! You know I am. Mother said she spoke to you about this. About us moving in together, I mean.”
“Yes, she did. As I recall, I told her I’d take care of it.”
“Well, apparently you didn’t take care of it fast enough,” Dani retorted acerbicly. “My stuff arrives at your place on Saturday.”
“Okay.” He selected a tie from a rack in his closet. “You said there was a problem. What is it?” The speakers caught and reflected her sharp inhalation of breath. If he didn’t miss his guess, his lovely bride was somewhat annoyed. He grinned.
“What is—I can’t move in with you! That’s what the problem is.”
“Sure you can, sweetheart.”
“That isn’t part of our agreement.”
“It wasn’t part of your agreement.” He knotted the tie, tacking it in place with a gold-plated piece of mother board. “It was always part of mine.”
“Nick-”
“What do you expect me to do, Dani? Find a way out for you?” His humor faded. “I don’t want to find a way out. I want my wife and daughter here, living with me in my home.”
“I should have known you wouldn’t help!”
“Yes. You should have. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Friday?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten we’re having dinner with my parents.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
He could hear the lie in her voice. It instantly restored his humor. “Good. Which reminds me. Sounds like moving day will be a busy one. Raven Sierra and his daughter will be joining us that night for dinner. You’re supposed to show him how easy Gem is to operate, remember?”
“Dammit, Nick!”
He snagged his suit coat from a wooden hanger. “Yes?”
Her sigh of resignation sli
pped across the line. “What time Friday?”
“Five-thirty. And, sweetheart?”
“What?”
“Checkmate.”
The phone banged down in response. But not before he heard her muffled laugh.
“We need to stop and pick up Chinese at the restaurant on the corner.”
“Are you sure?” Dani asked. “I thought your parents invited us for dinner.”
“They did.”
“Then why are we picking up take-out?”
Nick shrugged. “Because it’ll save time.”
“Oh. Is...is your mother that bad a cook?”
“It’s possible she’s improved since I last ate there. But I doubt it. Don’t worry, Dani. You won’t starve.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t want to offend her.”
“We won’t.”
Clearly, he didn’t intend to discuss it, so she decided to let it go and judge for herself. She’d looked forward to meeting his parents, hoping they’d offer some clue to Nick’s background. Although she’d often discussed the business with him, and on occasion his recent history, his past remained a mystery. Perhaps she’d finally learn why he worked so hard to suppress his emotions. Perhaps his parents could explain it to her.
After picking up dinner, they wound a circuitous path through Berkeley. Eventually they pulled up outside a huge house surrounded by a wrought-iron gate perched high on the hillside.
“Good grief, Nick. Is this where you grew up?” she asked.
“Right here.”
She peered at the weathered facade. Unlike the other homes in the area, this place desperately needed a face-lift. It huddled in the shadows, dark on the inside as well as out. A monstrous holly loomed on one side, a magnolia on the other. Overgrown bushes partially blocked the path to the front door. If there’d ever been a lawn, it had long ago been overrun by weeds.
Dani shivered. “How old is this place?”
“Over ninety years. It was built right after the 1906 earthquake.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Politely put.” He set the emergency brake and turned off the engine. “This house is like an old woman struggling to hide her years behind too much makeup. No matter what artifice she uses, she still looks every bit her age.”
As much as Dani wanted to disagree with his assessment, Nick had made an apt comparison. Still, it troubled her. He’d grown up in this house. The “old woman” he’d described had been part-of his life. How much had it influenced the man he’d become?
“It’s after six,” she said. “Shall we go in?”
“Why not? If you’ll grab the diaper bag, I’ll get Abigail.”
Dani picked her way along the walk and climbed the sagging wooden steps to the porch. Beveled windows flanked the front door, and she peered through the glass, unable to detect light or life on the far side.
“Don’t bother with the doorbell. It hasn’t worked in years. Knock.” He shifted Abigail to his other arm. “Loud.”
She pounded on the heavy oak. Silence met her efforts. “What now?”
“Take the baby.”
He transferred his sleeping bundle, then pulled keys from his pocket. Selecting an ornate gold one, he inserted it into the lock. Giving the oak a hard shove, he wedged open the warped door. Entering, he crossed to an old-fashioned wall switch and pushed one of the buttons. Dim light drifted across the imposing entryway.
“Did we get the date wrong?” Dani asked, uncomfortable in the confines of the tomblike house. “I coutd have sworn your mother said today.”
He smiled grimly. “You heard the message. Friday at six.”
“Then where—”
“They’re here. Probably in the basement.”
“This place has a basement? Isn’t that unusual?”
He shrugged. “They jacked the house up and put one in before I was born. I guarantee, they’re down there.”
“In the basement.”
“Right. In the basement.”
“What are they, mad scientists?” she joked.
If anything, his gaze grew colder. “Yes. As a matter of fact, they are.” He gestured toward the room behind her. “If you’ll wait in the parlor, I’ll get dinner out of the car and then go find them.”
“You’re...you’re going to leave me?” She swallowed. “Here? Alone? With mad scientists running around in the basement?”
To her relief, a reluctant laugh broke free. “I won’t be long. Try to make yourself comfortable.”
Dani glanced over her shoulder at the shadow-infected room he’d indicated. “Just wait in the parlor?”
“Yes, my pretty little fly. Just wait in the parlor.”
Reluctantly, she carried Abigail into the room and settled on the edge of a faded couch. It was reasonably clean, though she’d be willing to bet it hadn’t seen much use. Everything had a formal, untouched appearance, faded, yet unused. What a strange, strange childhood Nick must have experienced. She wondered about his parents, trying to decide if he’d been teasing with his mad scientist crack.
Nick. Teasing. She sighed. Great. Mad scientists for in-laws.
A minute later she heard the distinctive sound of the front door being forced open. The painful squeal of the wood woke Abigail. Though the baby started, she didn’t cry. Instead, she yawned and then found her mouth with her fist. She sucked contentedly, and Dani smiled, sliding her palm over the silky auburn hair.
How had she been so blessed? Peter had not only been unable to have children, he hadn’t wanted any. He’d been quite adamant about it. Even if he hadn’t become bored with their marriage, they would have hit a marital crisis sooner or later because family had meant everything to her and so little to him. And though she didn’t blame Peter for circumstances beyond his control, she would have happily adopted a child or been a foster parent. But he’d denied her even that.
She studied Nick. How different he was from her former husband. If it hadn’t been for a combination of serendipity and one unforeseen night of rapture, she might never have known the joys of motherhood—or experienced the unbelievable pleasure he’d given her.
“I brought in Abigail’s car seat,” he announced from the doorway. “You’re not going to want to hold her the entire evening.” He set it on the floor, then indicated the bag of food. “I’ll put this in the kitchen.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She didn’t give him the chance to refuse, but stood and followed him down the hallway toward the back of the house. The kitchen was surprisingly large and had been modernized within the past twenty years or so. Nick opened the refrigerator door, and Dani’s mouth dropped.
“What’s all that?” she asked in a horrified whisper.
He peered into the refrigerator as though just noticing. “The usual. Experiments. Various chemicals that need to be kept at a low temperature. And mold. There’s always lots of that around here. Some intentional.” His mouth angled upward. “Some not.”
“What, exactly, do your parents do?”
“I told you. They’re scientists.”
“I mean...” She eyed a glass beaker filled with a misshapen spongy object covered in an interesting combination of orange, blue and green mold. “What sort of scientists?”
“Mom’s a chemist. Dad’s a biologist.”
“And they conduct their experiments here? At home?”
“They’re not into explosives, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
She couldn’t stop staring at the beaker. “What about viruses? You know. Those new ones. The type that eat people from the inside out.”
“They don’t keep anything here above a biosafety level four. Honest.”
Her grip tightened on Abigail. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
He glanced over his shoulder. The light from the refrigerator cut across his angled cheekbones and revealed the humor lighting his eyes. “I’m joking,” he assured her gravely. “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe. They just don’t beli
eve in working for corporate America. It’s a sixties thing, I think. They free-lance. Their lab is actually state-of-the-art.”
“The one down in the basement.”
“Right. The one down in the basement.”
“Will we have to get them?”
He shook his head. “We won’t be able to access the lab. It’s sealed.” He shut the refrigerator door and crossed to another wall plate, this one more high-tech than the model in the foyer. He punched in a quick code. “This’ll let them know we’re here. I installed it when I was a kid.”
Sure enough, they soon heard footsteps approaching from the staircase off the kitchen. A minute later his parents joined them. Dani studied the two with interest. Mr. Colter had a similar build to Nick’s, although he carried more weight and had a slight stoop. Their features and coloring, however, were nothing alike. Clearly Mrs. Colter had passed on those particular genes, sharing her blond-streaked hair and intense blue eyes.
“Introduce us to your guest,” she prompted.
Nick folded his arms across his chest, instantly complying. “Dani, I’d like you to meet my parents, Ellie and Hugh Colter.” He fixed them with a cool gaze. “You remember Dani, don’t you?”
“Dani as in Danielle?” Hugh’s brow puckered. “Hmm. That would be ‘God is my judge.’ I vaguely remember meeting a judge. Good to see you again, my dear.”
Ellie shook her head. “Well, I don’t remember. Refresh my memory. When did we meet her?”
“At my wedding,” Nick explained.
“Hmm. No. I don’t remember her being there.” His mother frowned. “As a matter of fact, I don’t remember your wedding, either.” She turned to her husband. “When was it, Hugh?”
He shrugged. “Tend to forget those sort of details unless I write them down. Last year, wasn’t it?”
“During the photosynthesis experiment? I don’t think so. We couldn’t possibly have gone then.”
Hugh looked at his son for confirmation. “Could it have been in the spring? We had a spectacular failure with moss last spring. Were bound to show up at your wedding when the moss died.”
“It was five weeks ago,” Nick offered helpfully. “During the growth rate of rye experiments. Remember?”
