Sandcastles Under the Christmas Moon

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Yeah, but I didn’t want anyone to have to go spend money on a lawyer just because of me. Gram and I have medical bills to pay.”

  Sydney slung an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Kinsey is doing this for free. We don’t want you spending your time worrying. The court will either make Kyle’s parents pay or it won’t. Either way, we have the satisfaction of knowing we stood up for ourselves.”

  Seventeen

  Quentin and Beckham took the time to stop in at the Snip N Curl to get a haircut. Their stylist, Abby Bonner, had dyed her normally brown hair in a bright russet color for Thanksgiving.

  “Can I get my hair dyed like that?” Beckham asked.

  Quentin couldn’t see why anyone would want to do that to their hair, so he took the cautious approach. “While it looks great on Abby, it’s not exactly your shade.”

  Abby let out a laugh. “Handled very well, very diplomatic, Dr. Blackwood.” While snipping Beckham’s hair, she and the teen chatted on about anything and everything.

  “How often do you change your hair color?” Beckham wanted to know.

  “At least six or seven times a year. Sometimes it’s just streaks. But at Christmastime I go all out and dye my hair red. I don’t mean russet either but actual red. It makes a bold statement to let everyone know what I think about my favorite time of year. Check back after Thursday and you’ll see me go all out in brilliant twenty volume red.”

  Beckham’s eyes bugged out. “Doesn’t all that dye hurt your hair?”

  “Not if you do it right,” Abby explained.

  Beckham told the stylist about Charlotte’s illness and the fear she’d lose all her hair.

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. But not everyone loses their hair getting chemo. Right, Doc?”

  Quentin winced at being put on the spot. He glanced at Beckham’s face. “She might. Every patient is different. And no doctor can predict if it will happen or it won’t.”

  “See. Charlotte could be one of those people who won’t lose a strand. In fact, whenever your grandmother wants her hair done, you just call me and I’ll come to her house. Be sure to take one of my business cards with you before you go. I’ll make a house call and fix her up nice and pretty. I’ll even do her makeup. Makes a woman feel so much better when she’s wearing lip gloss and her foundation.”

  Beckham bounced in his chair. “Gram would like that. Quentin says she’ll be leaving the clinic soon so you could come over before Thanksgiving. That way she’d look real nice for the dinner we have planned.”

  “You just let me know when’s a good time,” Abby provided. “Sounds like you guys are going full-on party-mode, huh?” the stylist quipped. “I like the big family gatherings myself.”

  “This year we’ll have so many people in the house, maybe not our house, but still…” To the delight of Abby, Beckham went on, “Lots of food and people. Quentin’s grandmother’s coming and…”

  Listening to the boy go on about the ritual, Quentin realized how much Beckham had built up what most people took for granted. While others might dread the ordeal of family dynamics and felt the stress of getting everyone together for a holiday, Beckham looked at it differently. Here was an opportunity the boy had never known before—a family gathering of major proportion.

  Later, when Quentin relayed the scene to Sydney, he saw a wealth of compassion in her eyes. Of course, he’d seen that again and again over the past week.

  “Then we’ll have to make sure this day is extra special. You know that, right? This might be Charlotte’s last holiday season. We need to make it the best one ever on so many levels.”

  “She told me she loved music and dancing. Maybe we could incorporate that into the evening.”

  “We should run with that angle. Make it as festive for her as we can.”

  “There’s something else. Beckham mentioned a girl his own age named Faye DeMarco. Do you have any idea who she is?”

  “That name doesn’t ring a bell. But I could look her up in the database.” Sydney went over to the computer, keyed in the name and waited for a result to pop up. “Here she is. Faye DeMarco lives on Cape May—that’s just down the street from me—with her older brother, Andy. Andy was last here two years ago with a broken arm and Faye was last seen a year ago for strep throat. Looks like both times they paid their bills by bringing Doc a batch of homemade cookies.”

  “That’s what I thought. How will I ever get to know these people if they don’t come into the office?”

  “Take your case to them. You’re new in town. Knock on their door and introduce yourself.”

  “That’s not a bad game plan. You’re an amazing person. You have a big heart. No wonder you’re so good at this job.”

  “That kind of flattery will definitely get me into bed,” she stated with a wicked gleam in her eye. “But there’s way too much going on at the moment. I was thinking I’d take Beckham to church tomorrow. Follow through with how you said he needed to mingle.”

  “John David won’t be there conducting the sermon.”

  Sydney’s face fell. “That’s right. How could I forget that? Okay, new plan. Tomorrow I’ll bring him with me when I go to brunch at Hayden’s.”

  “With Charlotte’s condition deteriorating so rapidly, I need to stay close just in case anything comes up.”

  “Then we have tomorrow covered.”

  But dragging Beckham to her sister’s house proved a lesson in patience.

  “Do I have to go?”

  “For the third time, yes, you have to go.”

  “Buy why? There’ll be a bunch of grownups around. Who wants to spend their day bored out of their mind?”

  Sydney put her hands on her hips. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Most of my life.”

  “Exactly my point. You should already know everyone there. Not to mention there’ll be a huge spread of food.”

  “Fancy food or real food? Because if it’s that fancy crap…some of it’s pretty yucky.”

  Sydney breathed in a calming breath. She tried to think of all the yoga meditation exercises she’d practiced over the years. “I didn’t ask Hayden about the menu. Whatever she puts in front of you, you’ll eat, and you’ll like it. Understand?”

  That turned out not to be an issue. Once the teen got there and saw the crowd was small, he seemed to relax. Especially around the table with the food. He washed down two mini quiches with an entire bottle of cream soda before working his way down to the egg rolls and empanadas.

  “I see there’s nothing wrong with your appetite,” Isabella said to Beckham.

  Beckham swallowed the little dumpling he’d just popped in his mouth. “Hey, Mrs. Delacourt, how’s it going. Look at all this food. Sydney says I should try everything and not be rude. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

  Isabella put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “A growing boy needs a spread like this. How else will he get a chance to broaden his palate and discover new foods, new tastes, he might otherwise toss in the trash?”

  “I don’t throw much in the trash these days. I’m not that picky.” To prove it, he munched on a shrimp coated with garlic. “I’m usually the one digging out what other people throw away.”

  Isabella already knew that. She’d spotted the young boy last summer diving through a dumpster, scrounging for food. “I wished I’d known how sick your grandmother was. I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to find out.”

  “Hey, you took the time to bring us groceries when we really needed it. That’s more than most people did. If you hadn’t started delivering vegetables from your co-op, I doubt we’d have made it this far.”

  “Do me a favor. Promise me you won’t let things get that bad again.”

  Beckham made a face at a slimy piece of salmon on a cracker. “Don’t worry. I won’t. Quentin and Sydney are right on top of everything now. Sydney even packs my lunch.”

  Across the room, Julianne held court with Sydney and several other moms. She took a stuf
fed mushroom off the platter and waved it in the air as she made her point. “I found out something interesting that you might be able to use down the road. In this school year, Pelican Pointe sends ten middle schoolers over to San Sebastian on the bus. Of that number, four are boys. I discovered that all four have been bullied at one time or another by one Mr. Kyle Hargraves. That might give you a clear-cut history that what happened to Beckham isn’t an isolated incident. If it should come to taking this thing to court, I’d be happy to testify to what I uncovered.”

  Kinsey nodded, dangling her own hors d’oeuvre in the air as she spoke. “This is such a strong case I wouldn’t be surprised if the Hargraves settle out of court. Their lawyer would be foolish to take it in front of a judge.”

  Sydney sipped her glass of lemonade. “It didn’t seem that way to me when that woman barged in at the clinic. Not only did she dispute Quentin’s diagnosis, she insinuated that he’d padded the bill. So, going forward with a lawsuit against this family is fine by me. Even filing charges against that goon of a son. Just keep the bottom line in perspective. I don’t want to let Kyle off the hook for this. I want him to stop bullying, not just Beckham, but any kid who happens to cross his path. That kid’s a menace to the school. He’s on his way to a life of bullying that might get him prison time as an adult. I want him stopped now before it comes to that.”

  “That’s the plan,” Kinsey said easily. “I have it on good authority the school board already is aware of Kyle’s problems. If they knew about this kid and did nothing…”

  “All the more reason to pursue it. I can’t wait to see the response from them. Mrs. Hargraves and her son should be held accountable. And if the school board knows Kyle has problems, then I want them to pay, too,” Sydney stated. “I want Beckham to be able to go back and forth to school without worrying about his safety or any repercussions.”

  Julianne agreed. “That’s what every parent wants. Their child to feel safe on the bus and safe at school.”

  Kinsey poured herself a glass of lemonade from the pitcher. “Don’t worry. I’ll get him some type of apology and the compensation for his medical bills.”

  “Good,” Sydney said. “Because Charlotte and Beckham can’t afford too many more setbacks. Someone has to do something to make life better than what it is now.”

  Hayden set out new plates next to the buffet. “This is a topic that should concern everyone with kids. Unless we find a solution to the middle school problem soon, we’ll end up loading our children onto that same bus.”

  “It doesn’t stop there,” Sydney went on. “Who’s to say bullies like Kyle won’t continue their behavior into high school. We may not be able to protect our kids when they go out the door. But we should be able to count on their safety while they’re on school grounds.”

  With that said, the get-together picked up a festive mood as Hayden dragged her sister to the other side of the room. “So what’s the latest? Have you hit the sheets with Quentin yet?”

  “Give me a break. We’ve barely had time to pass each other in the hallway. In case you haven’t noticed there are a ton of things going on.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed. If you ever need a break, I’m happy to lend a hand with Charlotte. Back when I opened the bookstore, she was one of my first customers. She loves to read and has been a steady patron ever since. I feel badly that I didn’t figure out something was wrong. Her illness definitely kept her out of the store for the past few months.”

  “I might take you up on sitting with her,” Sydney said, before chewing on her bottom lip. “I need to ask you something. Didn’t you tell me Scott was a significant part of why you and Ethan were able to get together?”

  Hayden narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “You’ve talked to Scott? When?”

  “The other night. First time. I initially thought you and Ethan were just pulling my leg with some crazy ghost story. But there he was, big as life, standing in the courtyard. Scott’s very annoying, especially the way he says something and then leaves you hanging without explaining what he’s talking about.”

  “That’s Scott. But it is odd. You’ve been here two years and he’s never bothered you before now. Wonder what it means?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “I’m not exactly an expert. Although I do believe the only people he approaches are the ones he thinks need help.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “But Scott must think you do. You may not be aware of this, but you’re fast becoming a mother figure to Beckham. Maybe he thinks you need help with that.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. I’m a nurse taking care of his grandmother, nothing more.”

  “Oh really? So a nurse brings him along to a brunch where he proceeds to eat everything in sight.”

  Sydney whirled on her sister. “You begrudge a boy whose grandmother is dying a little free food? That isn’t like you.”

  “When did I say I begrudge anyone anything? But your reaction is…telling…and exactly my point. Leaping to his defense is a sign you’ve bonded with him. All the way bonded. Face it, Syd. You’re the closest thing to a mother that boy may ever know.”

  “That’s quite a leap, even for you. Who started this mother figure talk anyway?”

  “Quite a buzz about it around town.”

  Sydney blew out a frustrated sigh. “Oh great. Now you’re listening to the rumor mill chew me up and spit me out without any proof at all. And you’re my sister. What happened to family loyalty?”

  “Don’t get mad at the messenger.”

  “I’m not mad. It’s just that I expected more support from you. I should’ve known better. Mother figure indeed.”

  But Sydney carried Hayden’s words back to the clinic like a twenty-pound weight wrapped around her neck. While dropping Beckham off to spend the night with Quentin, she made the mistake of glancing out into the backyard at the noise the two were making with the dog.

  At the sight, her heart felt like it tripped in her chest. It picked up a rhythm and thudded to an entirely new beat.

  There was Quentin wrestling with Beckham and the dog. What had happened? How had she lost her heart so quickly to this man and this strange boy who needed a better footing in life?

  Her first instinct was to resist, to run to some other corner, or better still, back home. They both posed major hurdles. Nothing about Quentin was easy. The same could be said for the boy.

  She wasn’t ready to be anyone’s mother, certainly not to an almost grown kid. If she ever decided to adopt, she’d settle on a nice little cuddly baby, not a teenage boy who might be more than she could handle.

  That statement wasn’t fair, though. Because Beckham was about to lose another solid chunk of his life, the only part he’d ever been able to rely on and trust. If she was having doubts, what was it like for him?

  Instead of running to her car and heading for the refuge of home, she opted to hang around. After all, what did she have waiting for her in an empty house? Not a thing. But here she could be part of…something.

  Eighteen

  “I think we should go check out this place I just leased,” Quentin suggested over the taco special they’d ordered from the diner. “I’m a little nervous about this decision.”

  “You guys go ahead. I’ll stay here with Gram,” Beckham offered.

  Sydney took out her cell phone. “I have a way we can all go. Hayden said she’d be happy to take a turn sitting with Charlotte. I’ll call in that favor tonight.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Beckham insisted. “I don’t mind sitting with her.”

  “Is your ear still bothering you?” Quentin asked with concern. It wasn’t like the boy to want to stay behind.

  “It hurts once in a while, but I’m okay, really I am. I want to finish reading that book to Gram. She likes the way Grisham tells a story.”

  “She does, does she?” Quentin suspected it was the other way around, that Beckham had dived into the plotline and wanted to find o
ut how it all ended up. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  Sydney put a hand on Beckham’s head. “No fever. I suppose I’ll save Hayden for another SOS moment.” She ruffled the boy’s hair. “But aren’t you at least curious what the house looks like?”

  “I’ve been up there once or twice…even more after the guy died. I wasn’t trespassing or anything. I already know the place is huge. It has a great out-of-the-way spot down on the beach. You should check it out.” He didn’t tell them he knew the area well or that he’d spent many hours hanging out at the secluded inlet just to read or think his way through a problem. No need telling them the rest. What difference did it make anyway? Everyone he got close to seemed to die off.

  “Want us to take the dog with us?” Quentin asked.

  “Sure. Buckley could use a walk.”

  The Bradford house was a sprawling Mediterranean-type retreat that sat back off the road, hidden behind a thatch of ancient cypress trees growing on the half acre of front yard. It had a front balcony that stretched across the length of the house and a back balcony that was less ornamental and used more for taking in the view of the ocean.

  “If I didn’t know better I’d think your uncle was inspired by a trip through Tuscany,” Sydney noted before Quentin ever opened the door. “Tranquil but remote setting, terracotta tile, detailed ironwork, rich patinas make me think I’m standing in a fortress somewhere off the coast of Italy.”

  “That’s probably not far off the mark. Douglas loved to travel in his younger years. Not so much once he retired and found Pelican Pointe.”

  Marble tile in the foyer led to a mahogany staircase. White wainscoting showed off the mint green paint and the crystal hanging from the ceiling. Off to the right was a music room.

  “This place is huge. It also smells a little musty, could do with a good cleaning.”