“Can we open presents pretty soon?” Britanny’s high-pitched young voice asked a few moments later during a lull in the adult discussion going on around her
Devon smiled at her. “We’ve made you wait long enough, haven’t we, pumpkin?”
Britanny nodded.
Honoria said, “Just let me get the camera ready ” And everyone rose to move into the family room. “Britanny, honey, run and get your brother ”
“Again?” Britanny asked with obvious reluctance.
Honoria nodded. “Again, sweetheart.”
“Okay.” With a disgruntled expression, Britanny went off in search of Tyler.
“Winston, I believe you’re doing Santa’s job this year. Right?” Pete said as they all sought seats near the enormous Christmas tree.
Santa? Curious, Geoff cast Devon a questioning look.
“Every year we draw names for the person who is going to pass out the gifts that are under the tree,” she explained “It helps to lessen the pandemonium.”
Geoff nodded and watched as Winston took up a position next to the tree and began sorting through the gifts based on the tags taped to each one. The children raced back into the room and sat on the floor as close to the tree and their Uncle Winston as they could without getting in the way
“Hurry, Uncle Winston,” Tyler prompted, his earlier funk apparently forgotten for the moment.
Winston grinned. “Let’s see what we have. ‘To Britanny from Grandma and Grandpa,”’ he read, handing Britanny a small package wrapped in gold foil “To Tyler from Uncle Winston,” he read next “Well, now,” he murmured with a teasing glint in his eye, “that’s got to be a mistake. I could’a sworn the gift I got you was smaller than this The labels must have gotten mixed up.”
“Ah, come on, Uncle Winston”
“Here you go ” Winston passed a large package wrapped in red paper to the boy.
Murmuring his thanks, Tyler and Britanny began eagerly ripping the paper from their packages as Winston continued with his job. As soon as the children’s gifts were in the open—Britanny had received a doll, and Tyler a model—their grandmother began snapping pictures.
“Geoff, this is for you from Mom and Dad and I,” Winston said, presenting Geoff with a large box that, from the way he slid it across the floor rather than carrying it, was quite heavy
Geoff stared. “Oh .but I didn’t expect anything.”
Winston grinned “Don’t worry. On the short notice we had, it’s not much. And, in a way, you could say you’re giving it to yourself ”
Both Devon and Geoff stared at him in confusion.
“Just open it already,” Pete prompted from his position in his big easy chair on the sidelines.
Feeling himself the center of attention, Geoff rose and began tearing at the wrappings on the large box. When he finally gained access to the contents, for an instant he didn’t understand and his bewilderment must have been evident on his face. “Those are your things,” Honoria explained, anxiety obvious in her tone. “Things that Devon put into storage when.. Well, they’re things Devon couldn’t bear to part with, so they were in storage here. We thought seeing them again might help your memory to come back.”
Geoff picked up a stuffed fish mounted on a board. A cardboard tag attached to it with string read, This is Tyler’s first fish He caught it in Lake Okanagan when you took him fishing for his ninth birthday. Oh, God! That would have been the last birthday he’d spent with Tyler. The lump in Geoff’s throat was so huge that he couldn’t speak, the burning in his eyes so intense that he couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze.
“We tagged everything as well as possible so you’d know what it meant. It’s all right, isn’t it?” Honoria asked.
“It’s fine, Mom.” Responding for him, Devon rose to place a hand on Geoff’s arm as he lifted a small pair of fur-trimmed moccasins from the box. “Those are the slippers you bought for Brie on her third birthday. She never wanted to take them off.” Devon looked more deeply into the box. “Your favorite computer magazines are in here, some of the books you’d kept from university, the sweater that Holly made for you for your thirtieth birthday. It’s a hodgepodge of stuff, but...for some reason I kept it.”
Geoff nodded and swallowed. Devon’s family had given him a box of memories for Christmas. And even though, thus far, the gifts had not triggered any real recollection, they were memories in and of themselves. He could imagine what it had been like fishing with Tyler when he caught his first fish. He could picture a small Britanny enchanted with her new moccasin slippers And he could touch the sweater made for him, with love, by a sister he could no longer remember, and he could feel connected once more. This was more than he’d ever imagined. Finally, he managed to speak around the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “Thank you all.”
Chapter 9
“You’re welcome,” Pete said. “Now get on with your job, will you, Winston? Or I’m going to die of starvation before these kids finish opening their presents.”
There were “ooh’s” and “ah’s” as more gifts were opened and hugs exchanged. Laughter and teasing. Crackling wrapping paper and pictures being snapped. Geoff received a silk shirt and coordinating sweater from Devon and a pair of leather gloves from Winston, and a package of golf balls and tees from Pete and Honoria. Presumably, he golfed.
“To Devon from Geoff,” Winston called out, handing Devon a package wrapped in green foil.
Slowly, obviously taken by surprise. Devon reached out to take it and then turned to Geoff. “When did you buy this?”
“In Prince George, before I met you back at the car.”
“Oh.” She looked at the package “What is it?”
“Open it and find out,” he prompted, although he was no longer so sure the gift had been a good idea. He’d purchased it on impulse without taking into consideration the fact that the gift-opening would be taking place at Devon’s parents’, and that she was a lady engaged to another man.
As the wrapping fell away to reveal a swatch of red satin fabric, Devon’s fingers hovered hesitantly.
“Well, what is it, dear?” Honoria asked. “Hold it up.”
With an unreadable glance in Geoff’s direction, Devon lifted the negligee from the paper. The bodice was predominantly lace with strategically placed swatches of satin, while the skirt was predominantly satin with lace inserts on either side. It was a nightgown designed for seduction. And Geoff had known the instant he’d seen it that he wanted to see Devon in it.
“Oh, my!” Honoria exclaimed with a wide-eyed glance in Geoff’s directions. “Well, it is beautiful, but...”
“Cut the man some slack, Honey,” Pete said with a grin on his face. “After more than two years alone, what do you think any red-blooded male has on his mind?”
Even Winston chuckled at that as he reached under the tree for the next gift. Geoff felt heat rising into his face; thank goodness he had a dark complexion.
“To Britanny from...your father,” Winston read, passing the little girl one of the presents Geoff had brought. Despite himself, Geoff tensed a bit. He hadn’t known his daughter’s likes and dislikes, so he’d bought what he hoped any nine-year-old girl would like: a Barbie doll and some accessories. He hoped he’d chosen well.
“Oh, boy!” Britanny exclaimed as she finished opening the package. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she chanted as, Barbie in hand, she rushed over to hug him.
“You’re welcome,” Geoff said. “I’m glad you like it.” Over his daughter’s shoulder, he saw the expression on Tyler’s face. It was a combination of wistfulness and resentment, and he realized in that moment that Tyler wanted to accept his father into his life as easily as his sister had, but that something held him back.
“To Tyler from your father.” Winston handed a large box to the boy. Hesitantly, Tyler accepted it. Placing it on his knee, he looked at Geoff.
“Open it, Tyler,” Devon prompted when the boy only looked at the package.
“You’re welcome,” Geoff returned.
Winston passed the last of the gifts out. “There, I think that’s about it.”
“Good!” Pete said with gruff good nature. “That means we can eat.”
“Wait!” Britanny said. “I have one that I want to give Dad myself.” Scurrying over to the end of the sofa she carefully removed a package from beneath it and then came over to Geoff. “Grams helped me make it for you. I hope you like it.”
Geoff weighed the package in his hands. It was heavy. “I’m sure I will.”
“Open it,” his daughter urged.
“All right.” Tearing the wrapping from the package, he discovered a scrapbook. A smiling baby girl graced the cover, and in metallic sprinkles the words The Life of Britanny Janine Grayson had been printed.
Geoff swallowed Ah, damn. His throat was clogging up again. “It’s beautiful,” he managed to murmur.
Britanny nodded and opened the cover. “See it’s got pictures of me from when I was a baby up until now, and copies of my report cards from school, and the ribbon I won for racing, and all kinds of stuff.” She turned a couple of pages “This is you teaching me how to swim. Mom took the picture so she’s not in it, but Tyler was standing over here laughing at me. See.”
Geoff nodded. “Thank you, Brie. This is very thoughtful.”
For a moment the little girl looked uncomfortable. “Well, Grams and me and Tyler kind of all came up with the idea together.”
“It was thoughtful of all of you.”
Honoria smiled then looked toward Tyler. “Where’s your scrapbook?”
The boy shrugged. “It isn’t finished yet. I got him something else for now.” Dragging his feet a bit, Tyler rose and retrieved a small package.
Honoria looked surprised but said nothing.
“Thank you, Tyler,” Geoff said as he accepted the gift. Tyler nodded without meeting his eyes and returned to his spot on the floor where he immediately became involved in examining his own gifts. Geoff opened the box to discover a bottle of men’s cologne. “Well, this is wonderful. I’ve been needing some.”
Tyler glanced up, meeting his gaze for a fraction of a second as though to verify Geaff’s sincerity, and then quickly became absorbed in reading the box containing his model.
“Can we eat now?” Pete demanded in a disgruntled voice
Honoria elbowed him. “Honestly! You’d think I never fed you.”
“You didn’t feed me lunch because you said we were having an early dinner,” he reminded her. “Well, it’s darned near four o’clock now and I still haven’t seen that dinner.”
“All right! All right!”
Dinner went reasonably well, though Geoff had some difficulty in refraining from staring at Tyler. What was wrong in that young mind? he wondered. But since he wouldn’t discover the answer tonight, he forced himself to focus on the delicious meal and allowed the conversation to flow around him as much as possible while he soaked up impressions like a sponge in the hope that they would provoke some buried memory.
So far, nothing.
It was obvious to him though that Winston Sherwood and his father did not get along. Pete Sherwood apparently resented his son’s choice of career, deriding the amount of time Winston spent with his computers, in “solitary confinement.” Winston’s expression made it obvious that he took exception to his father’s pride in Devon, though he did manage to hide it quite well And Devon, it seemed, had set herself up as intermediary, continually but tactfully interceding with her father on her brother’s behalf, even going so far as to demean her own accomplishments when her father held her up as an example. And through it all Honoria Sherwood sat and ate her meal, throwing out the occasional comment about mundane things, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents surrounding her. It was an interesting family.
What would his own mother be like when he met her? Geoff wondered. He hadn’t called her yet although Devon had given him her number. What did one say to a mother they didn’t remember? A mother who thought them dead? Still he was going to have to call her soon.
He spooned some dessert into his mouth—a concoction doused in a caramel sauce that Honoria called Carrot Pudding—and watched as the children gobbled the dessert down with three times the enthusiasm they’d shown for the main course. They, of course, finished before anyone else and excused themselves; Brie to take Prince Charming outside before playing with her new toys, and Tyler to play a new Sega game that he’d received. A moment later, Winston also excused himself, disappearing in the direction of the den.
Then, as though by some unspoken agreement, Devon and her mother rose to begin clearing the table. Geoff was about to offer his help when Pete asked, “Do you still like an after-dinner cigar, Geoff?”
Geoff frowned. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, come on then,” Pete said with a beckoning gesture of his head as he stood. Geoff rose to join his father-in-law and Pete slapped him exuberantly on the back. “We might as well find out, huh?”
In his study, a room that looked more like a library than an office due to the shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books, Pete handed Geoff a fat Cuban cigar and took a seat behind his desk. Almost immediately, his joviality disappeared. He eyed Geoff seriously through the haze of aromatic smoke he exhaled.
Geoff puffed on the cigar and returned his gaze steadily.
“Why did you bother to come back now, Geoff?” the older man demanded a moment later without preamble.
Stunned by the question, trying to understand its implications, for a moment, Geoff could only stare. Then he asked, “Is there some reason I shouldn’t have?”
“I had to do some fancy footwork to keep Future-Tech alive, when it looked like you’d been killed along with that brother-in-law of yours. Now, if we’re not careful, all that work could be undone.”
Geoff tried to assess the undercurrents in his father-in-law’s tone. “You mean Spencer Loring? You didn’t like him?”
“I didn’t know him from Adam before this all started, but of course I don’t like him now. His stupidity cost Future-Tech dearly. And who the devil else would I mean? Do you have another brother-in-law who was killed?”
Geoff raised an eyebrow. “You tell me.”
For a moment, Pete Sherwood didn’t seem to know how to take Geoff’s comment. Finally he grunted and said, “Oh, yes. Sorry Geoff, but I’m having a bit of difficulty with this amnesia thing.”
Geoff shrugged. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to help you with that—I have difficulty with it, too. To get back to the conversation, tell me why you were so concerned with keeping Future-Tech alive, as you put It ”
Pete arched a brow “Devon didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“That I own thirty percent of your company. When you started Future-Tech you needed backers. I was one of them.” He puffed and blew a haze of smoke ceilingward. “I was protecting that investment”
“Why was it necessary to protect it? I thought Future-Tech had been cleared of the allegations against it.”
Pete shook his head. “I was able to mitigate the damage to the company because virtually all the systems that experienced problems were installed by Spencer’s company, Fort Knox Security And Spencer was proven to have made modifications to the systems’ software. In fact, he admitted as much to a number of his clients, although he said that he’d only made modifications to the reporting systems to improve tracking of access to the systems.” Pete paused and sighed. “The man was, admittedly, damn near a genius when it came to electroni
cs
“Anyway, to get back to the thrust of your question. Some of the companies who experienced losses felt that Future-Tech should have maintained more control over the installation process I had to make a number of out-of-court settlements for damages incurred in order to prevent the whole story from breaking out and getting blown all out of proportion. But I made damn sure the clients understood and accepted that the settlements were made as a gesture of goodwill, and not an admission of culpability.”
“Does Devon know about these settlements?” Geoff asked.
Pete shook his head. “Only that there were a couple of them, but none of the details. She wouldn’t have understood the ramifications anyway. Suffice it to say that she knew I was protecting the company to preserve her future And my grandchildren’s. Even without you managing it, Future-Tech has continued to provide her with enough of a monthly income to live on She would have had some difficult times without it.”
Geoff frowned. “I don’t understand. I was under the impression that Devon had her own business.”
Pete waved a dismissing hand. “She dabbles in stained glass and interior design. I doubt that it’s particularly lucrative.”
“What about insurance? Didn’t I have any?”
“Of course you had insurance.” Pete puffed on his cigar. “But you disappeared. Without positive proof of your demise—” he raised an eyebrow for emphasis “—in other words a body,” he clarified, “there’s a long waiting period for insurance. Seven years to be exact.”
“Seven years! Why?”
Pete shrugged and waved a dismissing hand as though swatting away a fly “It has to do with British Common Law which states that a missing person must have been missing at least four years before surviving relatives can seek an order declaring death. The Canadian insurance companies have simply made it a contractual requirement as well, and have extended the waiting period to protect themselves. Basically the contract you signed stated that your beneficiary would have the right to apply to the court for an Order of Presumption of Death only after you, the insured, had been missing for seven years.”
A Season Of Miracles Page 14
