The Second Family

by Janice Carter

  “Great,” murmured Tess, wondering how anyone could be so cheerful at such an hour. She looked across the table at Nick, still in his pajamas, who was tucking steadily into a stack of pancakes. Now that’s concentration, she decided, admiring his ability to just hunker down and get to business. Alec set a mug of coffee in front of her.

  “The works?” he asked, spatula in hand.

  “Hmm? Oh, sure,” she said, catching his motion toward the pancake griddle on the stove top. “Why not? I think there’s a long day ahead.”

  He flipped two pancakes and a rasher of bacon onto a plate and as he passed it to her, murmured, “For all of us.”

  Tess glanced sharply up at him, catching his more ominous interpretation of her comment. Fortunately, the kids were focused on eating and had missed it. While Tess, who’d merely been referring to an early rising, figured she might as well put her other foot in her mouth and chew on it, rather than pancakes. Some combination of her plus Alec seemed invariably to lead to misunderstanding.

  Choosing the safer route of eating than talking, Tess finished her breakfast quickly. When they’d finished, Alec surprised her by asking Nick to show her around the property while he and Molly washed the dishes.

  “We’ve got a dishwasher,” Nick pointed out.

  “Then we’ll rinse and stack. Go get dressed.”

  The tone of Alec’s voice ruled out argument and Nick pushed back his chair and shuffled from the room. He returned scarcely five minutes later clad in jeans and a sweatshirt.

  “Take a jacket. It’s a bit chilly today, even for early May,” Alec advised Tess.

  By the time Tess had run to her room and retrieved a thick sweater from her suitcase, Nick was standing in the center of the drive at the front of the house. “Not much to see,” he mumbled.

  “Alec said your dad had a studio out back. Could we walk around and have a look?”

  “He was your dad, too,” Nick said.

  “Yes,” she said, “but when I was about your age, maybe a bit younger, I decided he must be dead or he’d have come back for me.”

  “You thought he was dead?”

  “He and my mother had a big fight. I was eight at the time. They were always fighting—mainly about money. She told him to leave and he did. For a couple of years I waited for him to change his mind and come back to take me with him, but he never did. Never sent a letter, much less any money. So I decided he was either dead or had gotten himself a new family.” Tess paused, taking a breath. “Which apparently he did.”

  He gave her a wary look. “So is that why you aren’t so keen to take care of Molly and me? We didn’t have anything to do with all that.”

  She stepped closer to him. “Nick, believe me, I don’t blame you or Molly. This has nothing to do with you at all.”

  “But it does kinda, doesn’t it? Like you got gypped out of a father and now you’re angry at him because of what he did to you and your mother and that’s why you’re taking it out on Molly and me.”

  She ignored his language, focusing on the more important point he’d made. “I’m not taking out some kind of revenge on you two. Please believe me. It’s just that mentally I got used to the idea of being an orphan a long time ago. My family is Mavis. She helped put me through school and did all the parent things. It was a struggle. I can’t explain how hard it was for both of us.”

  Anger flared in his eyes. “Yeah, well at least you had each other. And that orphan part? Well, Mol and me are just getting used to that and it’s pretty damn hard, too.” He turned his back on her.

  Tess knew he was crying but didn’t know if trying to comfort him would make him feel angrier or more embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “All that happened to me when I was a kid. I should be over it by now.” Tess dug her fingertips into the pockets so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out for him. Arm’s length, she reminded herself.

  She took a deep breath and said, “Nick, I haven’t any idea what’s going to happen while I’m here. But I can promise you that we’ll all discuss things together—with Alec, too, if you want. We won’t pull any surprises on you and Molly.”

  He swung round to face her, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

  Tess knew at once how hollow that promise sounded. In fact, it was the kind of statement she’d make to a client whom she was stalling for time. And Nick recognized it, too, but he graciously dropped the subject.

  “We can get to the studio this way,” he said, setting out on the gravel drive that ran parallel to the long side of the house. A field stubbled with tufts of prairie grass and spiked plants stretched to the left of the drive that ended in a two-car garage behind the house. A hundred yards or so off to the right of the garage, nestled in a stand of fir trees, was a rectangular, single-story building sided with aluminum painted the same blue-gray as the house.

  Nick walked up to a hanging planter suspended on a hook at the front door of the studio and rummaged his hand through it, pulling out a key. “Dad hated getting out here and having to go back to the house for a key, so he always kept one in here. Even though Mom asked him to stop, after the fire.”

  “Fire?”

  “This is brand new. His old studio was all wood and burned down almost a year ago. We don’t know how the fire started—maybe a short circuit in Mom’s pottery kiln. They both worked here.” He unlocked the door and stood aside for Tess.

  The interior was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows ran along the side facing the distant foothills. The floor was ceramic tiles of mottled green and the roughened plaster walls were the color of pale buttermilk. Large wooden beams with units of pot lights transected the ceiling. Plants and trees outside the windows gave the impression of a greenhouse in reverse.

  “Dad went for the aluminum siding for the new studio because of the fire. Mom’s pottery studio is down there,” Nick said, pointing to the end wall of sandalwood red bricks. “That part’s original—the only wall left standing after the rest burned down.”

  Tess stood in the center of the single room studio, aware of Nick’s quiet study of her. As if waiting to measure her response to the place. She wished she’d come in alone, because there were some half-finished canvases and she wanted privacy to examine them. Searching, perhaps, for some clue to the past. Some hidden message that would reveal why Richard Wheaton had forsaken her all those years ago and gone on to lead this other life.

  Surprising her, Nick blurted, “I guess it’s hard to get used to the idea that my dad and yours was the same person.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Was he a painter then, too?”

  “That was his dream but he wasn’t making any money at it. He worked in an office during the day and painted nights and weekends. When I was five or six, he had an exhibit at a friend’s house. I remember how excited he was when he sold his first piece.”

  Tess scanned the room, thinking how different the workplace was from the tiny room off her bedroom that he’d used when she was a kid. There, his paints had been stacked haphazardly on an overturned crate. Here, everything was methodically arranged on a long Formica-topped island complete with two sinks.

  “It looks like he went on to become very successful.”

  Nick shrugged. “I guess so. I only remember living here and him painting all the time, but Mom told me once that he lived as a poor starving artist for many years. Before they met.”

  Tess smiled to herself. The expression was one her mother had used a lot, too. Usually in an accusing way. As if Richard would rather be poor on his own than with a family. Maybe she was right after all, Tess thought.

  She noticed some canvases stacked neatly against empty wooden packing cases. “Have these been sold?”

  “Maybe. That’s usually how he got things ready. Mr. Walker—that’s Dad’s lawyer—came to have a look a couple of days after they…after the accident. He said he’d find out who the buyers were and arrange to have them shipped off.”

  The business side of Tess kicked in as sh
e bent down to have a closer look at the pieces. There were at least a dozen, she figured. “What kind of prices did your father get for his work?”

  Another shrug. “A lot, I think. I don’t really know. I never paid much attention.” Nick averted his face and mumbled, “Never had to.”

  Tess stood up. It was time to go back to the house, she realized. Touring the studio was proving to be an emotional trial for both of them, for very different reasons. “Come on,” she said briskly. “Alec said he’d take us grocery shopping into Boulder and you kids will have to help me. I don’t have the faintest idea what you like.”

  Nick swiped at the end of his nose with the back of his hand. He gave a faint smile. “Not granola and stuff like that. But you can get some for yourself,” he added magnanimously.

  “That’s generous of you,” she teased and followed him out the door. Just as he was about to tuck the key back into the planter, she impulsively said, “Why don’t I take that? The stuff in there may be too valuable to risk someone else finding the key. I don’t think that hiding place is very original.”

  Nick hesitated briefly, then plopped it into her palm. “There aren’t many people around here,” he said. “Our nearest neighbors are a quarter mile down the road.”

  “Well, I’m a big-city girl and we lock up everything there.” Tess pocketed the key and headed for the drive.

  “There’s a back door to the house over there, at the end of the hall. There’s also a door leading outside from my parents’ bedroom. That was so they could work late at night and come back into the house without bothering anyone. But both doors are probably still locked. We could knock and see if Molly or Alec hear us.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, “we’ll go back to the front.” She headed to the drive. Nick lagged behind, as if reluctant to have to continue carrying on a conversation with her. She was almost at the front of the house when a bright-red pickup truck roared up the drive from the highway, raising a dusty wake in its path. It braked to a stop just behind Alec Malone’s Bronco and a tall husky man wearing a white Stetson climbed out.

  “Mornin’,” he said, tipping his hat. He nodded at Nick, but turned his full attention to Tess. “I’m Larry Stone. My wife, Marci, and I have a spread down the road. Noticed the car and guessed you’d arrived.” His big face broke into a warm grin. “Boulder’s called a city, but it’s really a small town. Especially out here. We all know each other up and down the highway almost to Lyons.” He lowered his voice as he added, “We were all pleased as punch when we found out there was family up north. These kiddies have been suffering.”

  Tess glanced at Nick, who obviously had heard him and seemed more on the verge of scowling than suffering.

  “Tess Wheaton,” she said, placing her hand in his outstretched one and retrieving it as soon as he gave it a hearty pump. She estimated he was in his late forties and, from his ruddy, weather-beaten face, most of those years had been spent in the sun and wind. He removed his hat with his freed right hand and wiped the back of it across his brow. Long strands of gunmetal gray hair clung damply to the top of his head, forming a fringe around a small bald spot that glistened when he moved from the shade into the sun.

  “Marci and I would love to have you pop over for a drink sometime before you all head back to Chicago.”

  Tess’s ears perked up at the last part of his invitation. You all? Was it merely a southwestern expression or did he really mean all of them?

  Then he ducked his head closer to her, keeping his back to Nick and, in hushed tones, said, “They’ve been through a lot, those kids. It’ll be good for them to get away from here as soon as possible.”

  Tess looked sharply at Nick, lurking in the background. “I haven’t made any plans at all yet, Mr. Stone,” she said, her voice matching his in volume. “I suspect there’ll be some discussion with the family lawyer and other authorities.”

  He gave a sheepish nod. “Right you are, of course. Marci’s always on my case about my tendency to blunder. But if there’s anything we can do at all, please feel free to call. Our phone number’s in Richard’s book, I’m sure.” He stopped then, nonplussed by his spontaneous reference to his former neighbor.

  “Thank you,” Tess quickly said. She turned toward the front door when it suddenly swung open. Alec Malone was standing in the frame.

  “Thought I heard a car,” he said, staring at the other man. “Hello, Mr. Stone.”

  “Mr. Malone,” the neighbor said with a polite but stiff smile. “I’m surprised to see you out here so early in the day.”

  There was a short silence during which Tess waited for Alec to mention that he’d stayed the night. When he didn’t, she said, “Mr. Stone dropped by to offer some neighborly help if we need it.”

  Alec nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on Stone until the man turned away to walk back to his vehicle. As he passed Tess, he paused long enough to mutter, “Keep your eye on that fella. He’s got a lot of problems I hear.” Then he climbed into the pickup, tipped the brim of his Stetson with his index finger, and backed out of the drive.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS LATE afternoon by the time Alec Malone’s Bronco pulled up to the Wheaton house again and Tess was exhausted. The mini tour of Boulder, the stop at the Sullivan home to pick up more clothing and Squiggly the hamster, plus the grocery run at the very end proved to be more draining than her customary fourteen-hour day in Chicago.

  Or perhaps it had been the brief visit with the Sullivans. They were a pleasant and obviously hardworking couple in their mid-thirties who had three young children of their own—all under the age of five, Tess estimated—and who took in foster children to, as Mrs. Sullivan honestly admitted, “make ends meet.” It was also obvious to Tess that, although Nick and Molly would get good care, they would not be receiving much personal attention. In another not-so-subtle aside, Mrs. Sullivan said she’d love to keep Molly who was a wonderful playmate for her oldest child, but Nick was far too moody and uncooperative.

  Placed in the unexpected role of having to defend Nick, Tess had acidly remarked that it must be difficult for a child who’s recently lost his parents to be cheerful and helpful. She’d received a long, unblinking stare and the comment that maybe it was a good thing then, that next of kin had been found and the children could be together. Tess clamped her mouth shut at that point.

  After unloading the groceries and helping to put things away in the kitchen, Alec took Tess aside to say, “I’ve got to go now. Forgot to ask before, but do you have a valid driver’s license?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “You’ll need wheels out here. There’s a station wagon in the garage that Gabriela used to drive.” He paused, then added, “Richard’s Explorer was totaled in the crash and is still on a lot in downtown Boulder. The insurance company is probably going to settle with the estate, so that’s another thing to ask Walker about when you meet him. I assume you’ll be arranging a meeting as soon as possible. Or have you already done that?”

  “It’s a bit late now. I’ll call him first thing in the morning. Besides, I had my secretary Carrie give him notice that I was coming to Boulder.”

  He nodded, then glanced beyond her to the kitchen door. “The other thing is,” he lowered his voice when Nick came into the room to get something from the fridge, “the kids should go back to school tomorrow. Molly’s bus picks her up at the end of the drive at eight-fifteen and takes her to an elementary school in Boulder.” He waited until Nick left the room. “Nick’s at a junior high there and his bus comes by a bit after that. He hasn’t been too happy at school since the accident. I’ve had a couple of meetings with his homeroom teacher and the principal. His main problems are truancy and not getting assignments done, but just before they took off for Chicago, he got into a shouting match with another teacher over something. So he may try to persuade you to let him stay home longer.”

  Tess doubted she’d be any influence at all on Nick should he decide not to go, but kept that opinion to h
erself. She walked Alec to the front door and out to the Bronco. “Thanks again for all your help today,” she said. “I’d have been completely overwhelmed if I’d had to organize things myself.”

  He shot her a doubtful look. “A big CEO like yourself? Today was a piece of cake.”

  “I don’t think so.” She couldn’t hold back a sigh. “I’ve got a feeling looking after two kids and running a house is a lot harder work than what I’ve been doing.”

  He laughed aloud, crinkling the tiny lines around his eyes. “A lot of mothers would love to hear someone like you say that.”

  “Someone like me?” she asked.

  He must have felt the chill in the question because he sobered instantly. “Someone who’s been plunked into an extremely challenging position and who’s measuring up to the situation very nicely.”

  Her gaze locked on his until, unexpectedly, a stain of color rose up through his face into the sandy-red hairline of his brow. His golden-brown eyes flicked away to the Bronco. “Best be going then,” he muttered and opened the driver side door. One long leg was half inside when he turned to ask, “Not that it’s any of my business, but what did Larry Stone have to say to you just as he was leaving this morning?”

  Tess had almost forgotten the peculiar remark, but decided against telling Alec. “Not much. He was concerned about the kids and invited me for drinks some time.”

  Alec kept his thoughtful eyes on her a moment, then climbed behind the wheel.

  “Why are you asking?”

  He hesitated. “Just curious,” he finally said, turned over the engine and shifted into reverse. Before he backed up, he stuck his head out the window. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow. See how the meeting with Walker went.” He thought for a second, adding, “One thing though. Keep in mind that the guy is like a lot of lawyers. Self-interested. No matter what he says about looking after the kids, his main concern is going to be what’s in it for him.”

  With that, he reversed the Bronco, spun a U-turn and headed for the highway. Tess stood watching until the last plume of gravel dust disappeared. She didn’t have the faintest idea what Larry Stone had meant by his remark about Alec Malone, but it was obvious that Malone, too, had some kind of personal agenda. When she returned to the house, Molly greeted her in the open doorway, holding Squiggly in her hands.