A Father for Danny

by Janice Carter

  He was just finishing the list in the workroom when he heard the doorbell tinkle. “Be right with you,” he called out. There was no reply, so he set the paper and pencil down and peered into the showroom. When he saw a woman looking at a carving, her back to him, his immediate response was annoyance.

  Samantha Sorrenti. What now? They’d already agreed that she’d come for lunch on Saturday. The woman was impossible. And obviously she wasn’t here for any emergency, because she now had his phone number and so did Danny and Emily. Which meant she’d probably come to belabor some point or remind him to do something. Determined to hide his irritation, he forced a jocular tone into his greeting.

  “Samantha,” he said, walking toward her, “you’re a full three days early. You’re—”

  She turned around, smiling.

  He stopped. She looked like Samantha, though the hair seemed a bit different.

  “Chase?”

  She sounded like Samantha. She tilted her head and the smile became a tease.

  “—not Samantha,” he finished. He felt disoriented. How could she not be Samantha?

  “You’re quite right,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m her twin sister, Skye. And you must be Chase Sullivan.”

  “Samantha didn’t tell me she had a twin,” he said.

  “No? Well, perhaps she felt it wasn’t important.”

  And of course it wasn’t, he thought. Most of their talk had been centered on Danny or Emily. He searched her face for any telltale difference, still not quite sure how he’d guessed.

  “And you are very good,” she went on, “because few people can tell us apart, especially so quickly. Tell me,” she said, moving closer, “what were the clues?” She fixed her gaze on his.

  That was one right there. That almost provocative boldness.

  “Just intuition, I guess.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. She studied him a bit longer and then, indicating the showroom, added, “You’ve got some wonderful pieces here. How’re sales?”

  That was another one. He doubted Samantha would have been so blunt. “Not bad, Miss Sorrenti.”

  “Please, under the circumstances, call me Skye.”

  “And what circumstances are those, Skye?”

  “Well, you know Sam and…” For the first time, she seemed to falter.

  She’d come to check him out, he realized. But why? For her sister? “Are you touring the island, or visiting my shop in particular?” he asked.

  “I’d like to see around the island—it’s been years since I was here last. But unfortunately I don’t have the time today. And although your place is lovely, I actually came to speak to you.”

  Aha. She was checking him out. Anxious to ensure that her sister was not getting involved with some deadbeat dad? Or maybe this was some trick cooked up by the two of them. Fool Chase and see what admission he might make about…what? That was what stumped him. It wasn’t as if he denied being Danny’s father.

  “About what?”

  “About your family’s business—Trade Winds.”

  Her reply was so unexpected that for a moment he couldn’t speak at all. Every nerve and pulse in his body came to a complete halt.

  When he failed to answer, she said, “In particular, an inquiry instigated some thirteen years ago by the Seattle FBI field office.”

  Ignoring the drumming in his ears, he asked, “What does my family’s business have to do with Samantha?”

  She smiled. “Not much. The big coincidence here is that I was the investigating agent at the time.”

  He’d have sat down at that, except he didn’t want to appear weak. Besides, there was nothing handy.

  “I no longer work out of that office,” she went on, “but recently…well, a decision was made to reopen the inquiry.”

  “What? Why?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe the office is just reviewing some cases, who knows? Anyway, since I never had the chance to interview you back then, I thought I might be able to ask you a few questions now.”

  His mouth was dry and his head teemed with far too many questions of his own. And he didn’t want to address any of them to Skye Sorrenti. What he wanted was to get rid of her as quickly as possible.

  The front door swung open then, the bell echoing in the silence.

  “Hello,” said the woman hesitantly, standing in the doorway. “You’re still open, aren’t you?”

  Chase could not have greeted a customer more warmly. “I’ve got the bird all packed up,” he said, moving away from Skye.

  “That’s great. I hope I’m not taking you from anything?” She glanced from him to Skye.

  “Not at all.” He turned toward Skye, noting the pursed lips and frown. “Perhaps we could talk again, another time?”

  She either didn’t hear or was refusing to budge. He was about to repeat himself when she nodded curtly, muttered, “Definitely” and strode out the door.

  Later, with a double scotch in hand, Chase sat down in his cottage and reflected on an afternoon that far outweighed, in potential for calamity, his first confrontation with Samantha at Harbor House. He had no idea why his past had been resurrected and was now poised and ready to dash his current life to pieces.

  He didn’t believe for a second that Samantha Sorrenti’s twin sister—an FBI agent!—was coincidentally on the scene less than two weeks after the whole nightmare began. Obviously they had planned and prepared this, but to what avail? There was no connection that he could see between Emily and Danny and Trade Winds. Except, of course, that if the FBI inquiry had never occurred, he would never have met Emily. And never had a son. The endless possibilities of if spiraled through his mind. He downed the scotch and turned off the CD player. In three days he’d be seeing Samantha. Then he’d get some answers.

  SAM KNEW SOMETHING was wrong the instant she walked into the shop on Saturday. Chase was talking to customers and his eyes flicked over her as she entered, but shifted without trace of a welcome immediately back to the couple. Not that she was expecting an effusive greeting, but a quick smile would have been nice. Perhaps the visit with Danny was not turning out well and for some reason, he held her responsible. No, she thought at once, he’s not that petty.

  She browsed idly around the display cases until Chase, on his way to the cash register, muttered, “Danny’s in the cottage, behind the store. Go out the rear door in the workroom and along the path.”

  “Okay. Thanks,” she muttered back, thinking, you were the one who invited me for lunch!

  When she stepped outside, she felt as though she’d entered another world. A narrow but long yard, bordered on one side by a fence draped with a flowering vine and on the other by a row of tall pine trees, sloped gently down to what seemed to be a narrow river or channel. A stone cottage stood at the end of the pine trees, a few yards from the water. As Sam drew closer, she saw a makeshift wooden dock and an overturned red canoe.

  The day was warm for early May and the screen door of the cottage was open. It was the kind of old-fashioned door Sam had seen in country-home magazines, with white-painted scrollwork framing the mesh. Perhaps Chase had made it himself. She walked up two stone steps to the door and tapped lightly.

  “Danny? It’s me, Samantha.”

  “I’m in the kitchen,” he called out. “Straight through the living room and to the right.”

  Inside, the cottage was all that the screen door had suggested. Simplicity, style and comfort. The floors were hardwood and instead of a fireplace, there was a black woodstove against a wall lined with shelves of books. A tan-colored sofa and matching armchair were the only places to sit, though a magnificent, gleaming round coffee table, on which sat an enamel pitcher of daffodils, was definitely the showpiece of the room. The whitewashed stucco walls were bare except for a poster-size framed photograph of a northern landscape. A floor lamp stood beside the armchair and the stack of books and magazines on the floor next to it suggested this was where Chase spent time.

  The living room ended
in a large picture window that overlooked the river. A door to the right led into a sunny kitchen where Danny stood at a counter, chopping vegetables. The kitchen was half the size of the living room but large enough to contain a small harvest table along one wall. There was an exterior door, opened to reveal a screen door identical to the one at the front of the cottage.

  “Well, Chef Danny,” said Sam, smiling. “Are you preparing lunch today?”

  He gave a token scowl, but Sam could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Just the salad. Does…uh…Chase still have customers?”

  Sam heard the hesitation. At least he wasn’t calling him Mr. Sullivan. “Yes. So, how’s it been?”

  He shrugged, but didn’t look up from his chopping. “Okay, I guess.”

  “What did you do last night?”

  “Not much. He doesn’t even have cable! He said maybe we could rent some DVDs today.”

  “Has it been boring, then?”

  Danny raised his head. “At first. But last night he helped me with a carving, and then today’s been okay. We went out in the canoe early this morning and saw some neat birds. Stuff like that. And he said maybe sometime he’d teach me how to do some things around his workshop. You know, like sanding.”

  “That would be interesting.”

  The scowl returned. “I guess.” He went back to the salad.

  Sam waited a few moments before asking, “Have you thought some more about the counseling idea?”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t decided yet.”

  She knew not to push the issue. At least he was thinking about it.

  “Can I help?” she asked.

  He turned his hands, palms up. “I don’t know. Chase said to chop this stuff for salad and there’s a bowl on the counter over there. I don’t know about dressing or anything.”

  “I’ll look in the fridge.” It was well stocked for a bachelor, she thought, but then realized he must have shopped with a teenager in mind as there was a lot of milk and a big bottle of cola. A platter with an assortment of cheeses was on a shelf and she pulled it out, along with a bottle of salad dressing.

  Danny had finished his task and was leaning against the table, his head bowed and his arms folded across his chest. He seemed a bit lost, and Sam knew that the events of the past week must be overwhelming. She set the items from the fridge on the counter and went over to Danny, touching his forearm.

  “It’ll be okay, Danny. One day at a time.”

  He raised his head, his eyes shining with tears. “Yeah,” he said huskily, “that’s what Mom says. And I try to do that, but sometimes, you know, in the middle of the night I wake up and…”

  Sam pulled him into a hug. They were still standing like that seconds later when Chase walked into the kitchen.

  He paused, then went to the fridge. “Salad looks good,” he said as he pulled out some cold meat and condiments.

  Sam patted Danny’s back and withdrew, then helped to transfer the lunch items from the counter nearest the fridge to the table.

  “What would you like to drink?” Chase asked. “I’ve got wine, iced tea, milk, water, soda, juice. The usual.”

  “Iced tea sounds good,” said Sam.

  “Water,” said Danny, adding “please,” a second later.

  Chase put a bread board with two crusty loaves on the table and gestured for them to sit. Sam couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so uncomfortable. She tried to kickstart a conversation, but every attempt fizzled.

  Suddenly Chase suggested that Danny go up to the workshop and bring the carving he’d started the night before. The instant Danny left the kitchen, Chase said, “I had a visitor a couple of days ago.”

  “Oh?” Sam was more mystified by the expression on his face than the comment itself.

  “Your sister.”

  “Skye?” Sam dropped the piece of bread she was buttering onto her plate.

  “That’s the name she gave. And I admit it was a bit of a shock, since I didn’t know you had a twin.”

  The accusation in his voice rankled. “Look, it’s not as if we’ve exchanged CVs or anything.”

  “True enough, though I think you already know quite a lot about me. Maybe it’s time you reciprocated.”

  “Is that necessary now? I mean, you know I have a twin.”

  “A twin?” Danny stood in the doorway. “Cool. How come you never told me?”

  Sam caught Chase’s smirk as she looked from him to Danny. “’Cause it never really came up, Danny. What’s that you’ve got?”

  He held up a block of wood roughly shaped like a boat. “I started it last night.” He handed the piece of wood to Sam.

  “It’s gonna be a tugboat.”

  “Why don’t you get the drawings for it?” Chase suggested.

  Danny looked from him to Sam and back again. “Sure,” he mumbled, and headed out again.

  “You haven’t asked the big question yet,” Chase said to Sam.

  She knew at once what he meant but was hoping Danny would return fast and save her from answering. “What question?”

  “Why your sister was here.” He kept his voice low.

  “I’ve no idea why she came here,” she replied.

  “Oh, I think you do.” He glared at her across the table.

  “Actually, I don’t.”

  “You expect me to believe that? You have a twin who happens to be an FBI agent who happens to have investigated my family years ago. If you’re telling me this is all some weird coincidence, I’m not buying it.”

  Sam stood up and pushed back her chair. “I don’t know why she came to see you. And I have no intention of being grilled like this. I’m not the criminal here.”

  “What did you say?”

  She didn’t dare look at him. “I better leave,” she muttered. She reached for her purse slung over the back of her chair.

  “Sam? What’s the matter?” Danny stood in the kitchen doorway. He looked very upset.

  “I’m sorry, Danny. I have to leave. Something’s…come up.”

  She scarcely glanced his way as she brushed past him. “I’ll call you Monday. Good luck at school.” As she marched into the living room, she heard Danny’s voice behind her.

  “What happened, Chase? What did you say to her?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SAM GOT AS FAR as the sidewalk and stopped, still hearing the dismay in Danny’s voice. She was behaving like a child, running off when things got tough. She couldn’t do that to Danny, and whatever Skye was up to, she owed it to Chase to at least set the record straight.

  So she turned around and followed the path along the side of the building, back into the yard and down to the cottage. Humiliation time. The kitchen was so quiet at first she thought they’d left. They both looked up, surprised. Danny’s grin made up for her embarrassment.

  “I…uh…changed my mind,” she said. “I don’t have to get back after all. I see you haven’t gone on to dessert yet, so that’s a good thing.” She slung her purse back over her chair and sat down. Chase got up and without a word, set another plate in front of her. Danny passed her the salad and they finished the lunch with a minimum of small talk. After a dessert of fruit salad, Danny insisted on washing up.

  “Chase will show you around the yard,” he prompted.

  “That won’t take long,” Chase said, “but there’s a bench by the river.”

  Sam got the hint. “Well, it’s a lovely spring day and I’d like to see the river.”

  When Chase closed the door behind them, she added, “Almost thirteen and going on thirty.”

  “I’m beginning to think so. Maybe thirteen is the new thirty.”

  Sam laughed. When he grinned back, she was struck by how much he resembled Danny. And because of that, she felt a sudden connection with him.

  But then his face turned serious. “Thanks for coming back. I was worried for a moment that the whole weekend was going down the tube.”

  “It was silly of me to run off like that, as if I’d done some
thing wrong.”

  He just kept looking at her. “Shall we head for the bench?” he finally asked and, without waiting for her reply, led the way to the river’s edge and a small white bench under a sprawling willow tree.

  When they were seated, Sam stared at the narrow river with its weedy shore, then at the cottages and homes jutting out of the trees on the other side. Craning her neck, she could see a bridge downriver and the beginning of the large marina that served the town.

  “It’s very pretty here,” she said. “When I came to Bainbridge as a child, I only saw the main drag and regular tourist places. Though once we came by car and drove out to the one of the beaches. I can’t remember the name.”

  “Tell me about your sister,” he said.

  Okay, so small talk isn’t going to distract him.

  “She’s an FBI agent and once was stationed in Seattle. Now she’s in Washington, D.C.”

  “She said she investigated my family. What do you know about that?”

  “Not much.” Sam met his eyes. “There was an allegation of fraud or something. She said the inquiry didn’t turn up anything and the case was closed. End of story.”

  “I wish,” he muttered.

  “Look,” she said, “whatever happened years ago has nothing to do with you and Danny.”

  He looked across the river. “Maybe not, but I’m confused by the timing of all this. Why now?” He turned back to Sam. “Danny’s told me some of it—how he found you and so on. What bothers me is your sister’s part. You said she no longer works in Seattle, so why has it happened that when she visits Seattle, the case is suddenly reopened? I can only think that it was at her initiative. What’s she after?”

  Sam took a deep breath. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. You’ve got to believe me,” she said at the change in his face. “I called her to ask for some help right after I met Emily. I wasn’t really expecting to find you at all, but finding you turned out to be much easier than I thought.”

  “Because of what your sister told you,” he said quietly.

  “Yes. I probably would never have found you on my own because the only name Emily knew you by was—”