“But it was mean. It was backstabbing. You know my position on this. I don’t understand why you have this compulsion to be always in charge.”
“And you don’t?”
The color in her face deepened, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned away and kept walking, through the tall wooden doors of the school and onto the sidewalk. Alec noticed the Volvo wagon parked a few feet away. She’d be in it and gone if he didn’t act quickly.
“They need you, Tess. I know it’s difficult for you to understand that, but they do.”
She stopped and turned around. “They need an adult to be in charge and take care of them. Any decent and caring person will do. I’m sure there are plenty around. Just because I’m connected to them by blood doesn’t mean we have a relationship. Nick knows me less than…than he knows Mr. Capshaw. It’s your job to find someone to take them, Alec. Please don’t foist your responsibility onto me.”
He couldn’t think of an answer to that, but simply watched her get in the Volvo and drive off. You’ve really screwed up now, he told himself. Pushed her right over the edge.
THE CALL CAME after ten and Tess knew right away who was on the other end. Alec Malone. Checking to make sure she’d had her talk with Nick. Which she hadn’t.
“Look,” he began without preamble, “I’m sorry for this afternoon. I know how it appeared—that we hadn’t discussed the matter before—and I didn’t intend to be so confrontational. I just couldn’t stand listening to you and Capshaw talk about the kids as if they were part of some case study in a textbook.”
“Mr. Malone, if that’s how it looked to you, then I’m sorry. Because nothing could have been further from the truth.”
“Please—it’s Alec. Is it too late to resume a friendly relationship here? For the sake of Nick and Molly?”
If she hadn’t realized how much she still needed Malone’s assistance, Tess might have been more frank. “I agree that a more amicable business relationship is necessary for us to do what’s best for the kids,” she said.
“Fine,” he said, in a resigned voice. “That’s definitely the bottom line here. One last thing before I let you go—have you had a chance to speak with Nick yet?”
“No, but if he’s not asleep I’ll talk to him now. Otherwise, in the morning.”
He cleared his throat. “Just that, the sooner the better. If he knows we’re on to his shenanigans and are prepared to set appropriate consequences, he might think twice before cutting school.”
“Agreed.”
There was a pause. “Okay. Fine then. Perhaps I’ll give you a call tomorrow night and find out how your talk went.” Another pause. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Talk to you then. Bye.”
She hung up before he had a chance to say goodbye himself and mentally patted herself on the back for effectively taking charge of the conversation. Although she wondered why she didn’t feel upbeat about the fact. Before turning out the lights for the night, she padded down the hall to the bathroom. Passing Nick’s room, she noticed his light was still on and wondered if she ought to speak to him now or put it off until morning. She was tempted to opt for the latter, wanting to avoid another confrontation. But knowing how hectic mornings were, she decided there was no time like the present. She tapped lightly on the door before opening it. He was reading by his bedside lamp, but its dim glow didn’t conceal the scowl on his face when he saw her.
“Nick? I need to talk to you about something,” Tess said, walking into the room. She sat on the edge of his desk chair and told him about Alec’s phone call.
In the beginning, he hotly denied skipping school. Then his guilt switched to anger, that she had been checking up on him. Worse still, that she and Alec had participated in a meeting that he ought to have been invited to. Tess had conceded that point, explaining that Alec hadn’t wanted him to feel on the spot. He’d be included in the next one, she’d said.
Slightly mollified, Nick reiterated his rant about being uprooted and not knowing what his future would be and, last, what was the point of it all anyway? Tess had let him rave, knowing arguing would be futile. When she finally said good-night, she asked only that he make a good effort for Molly’s sake as well as his. And feeling a bit guilty at using the little girl—knowing how protective Nick was of his sister—Tess had slipped out of his room. When she came out of the shower half an hour later, she noticed that his light was still on.
Even at the risk of being too tired to go to school in the morning, at least Nick would have the chance to do some thinking. And thinking kept Tess awake as well. She tiptoed into Molly’s room but as soon as she lay down, sleep eluded her. Tess gave up. She crept out of bed and wandered into the living room.
It was a room the family obviously rarely used, judging by Nick and Molly’s attraction to the family room and its television set. But staring at the portrait of Gabriela Wheaton in the spillover of a full moon, Tess felt a peculiar tranquillity, in spite of her stressful talk with Nick. She sensed that the real reason she wanted to rush to settle things was because to stay longer would make leaving difficult. If not impossible.
Studying Gabriela’s portrait was no less difficult. There was love in that face, Tess thought. What more would a mother want for her children than to know they, in turn, were loved? And how likely was that if they were adopted or placed in another foster home? Yet, she was ashamed to confess that she doubted the feelings she had for the children had anything to do with love. Concern, definitely. Because they were children. Compassion, too, because they were orphans and she could relate to that. But love?
Tess got up and walked over to the full-length picture windows fronting the house. The moon was behind the house, but still lit up the bushes and trees dotting the land between the house and part of the drive. Beyond, all the way to the paved highway, the countryside was pitch-black. In spite of the privacy curtain of the stands of trees clustered around the house, Tess knew from her first night there that headlights of passing cars could occasionally be seen from the living room.
That thought pricked her attention when she saw needle-point beams of light approaching from the direction of Boulder and then suddenly, disappear. As if, she thought, the night simply swallowed them up. She waited a moment longer for the lights to reappear on the other side of the stand of trees, but they never did. After another ten minutes, and guessing that she must have missed them, she decided to go back to bed.
She made a stop in the kitchen for water and headache pills—another consequence of her chat with Nick—and was turning away from the kitchen sink when she caught a flash of light in the field stretching out from the terrace side of the house. It was a quick stab of light that at first made her think she must be mistaken. But then she saw it again, bobbing erratically in the dark. Certain that she wasn’t having hallucinations or migraine aura, Tess moved swiftly along the hall to the back door at its end.
The yard behind the house was still and full of moonlight. No strange bobbling lights here, she thought. She unlocked and opened the door, standing behind the outer screen door, waiting. There. Was that a flash? She tensed, then pushed open the door and called out, “Hello? Anyone there?”
Silence. Of course, fool. What were you expecting? Some polite voice to say, “Sorry for bothering you, but just thought I’d check out your property while you’re all sleeping?”
Tess waited a few more seconds, her anxiety level rising to the point where she doubted she’d hear a reply even if one were offered. The blood was pounding so violently in her head. She started to close the door when she noticed the hanging planter suspended from the corner eave of the studio. In spite of the utter lack of wind that night, the planter was swaying gently back and forth.
Puzzled, Tess quietly closed the door and carefully locked it. Why would the planter be moving? The planter that had hidden the studio key. Which was now on top of the bureau in Molly’s room.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TESS DECIDED not to mention the s
trange incident of the planter and the lights to the children for fear of alarming them. By morning, she had questioned her interpretation of events. Perhaps the light in the field had been a reflection from something or had been much farther away than she’d thought. Some nocturnal bird or animal might have leaped onto the planter and set it swinging.
To her surprise, Nick arose on time and wordlessly helped her pack the lunches she was making when he came into the kitchen. After breakfast he accompanied Molly to the end of the drive to wait for her bus. Tess decided not to remind him about his behavior at school. The ball was in his court, she figured. As Tess watched the kids walk down the drive, she couldn’t help wondering which parent had usually stood in the doorway doing the same thing. Gabriela or Richard? Maybe both. The sense of filling in for one of them was strange, though not unpleasant.
After tidying the breakfast dishes—and praising dish-washers—Tess called Jed Walker. She was taken aback by his insistence on driving out to the ranch. “I promised Kozinski I’d have a look at those canvases you mentioned and perhaps the two of us can decide what things you and the children will want to keep and which items should be sold with the house.”
“Okay,” Tess agreed, but as she hung up, she couldn’t help but feel that she was being shepherded into a decision in spite of herself. Yet, she reasoned, isn’t this the very impression you left him with the other day? That you wanted to get back to Chicago as soon as possible?
She was in the middle of taking an inventory of the food stock in the kitchen when he arrived. He was dressed more casually, minus a tie and jacket, but still appeared to have stepped off the set of a photo shoot for some fashion magazine. In spite of their almost cool parting the day they met, he greeted Tess with a warm smile.
“Since we missed out on our lunch the other day, I thought I’d bring some with me.” He held aloft a plastic shopping bag from a well-known gourmet food chain. The end of a French baguette was visible, as well as the top of a bottle of wine.
Tess stifled the urge to correct his reference about lunch because he looked so pleased with himself.
He followed her into the kitchen and set the bags on the table. “Shall we go out to the studio first?”
“Fine.” She led Walker along the hall to the backyard and the studio. The key was in her pocket but she hesitated at the locked door, curious to find out if Jed knew about the planter hiding place. He didn’t appear to, but stood patiently waiting until she dug into her jeans and pulled out the key.
“Did the investigation into the fire here turn up any evidence of arson?” she asked.
He seemed startled by her question. “Uh, no, I don’t think so. I believe Richard and Gabriela felt it had something to do with faulty wiring in her pottery kiln. Apparently it was an old one, about to be replaced. Of course, all of the paint thinners, solvents and rags on the premises ensured a strong blaze.”
Tess stepped inside, Walker at her heels. “How lucky no one was hurt,” she remarked.
“Hmmm.” Jed was in the center of the room, giving it a panoramic scan. “It happened when the family was away for the weekend. Lucky for them, but on the other hand, it meant that the alarm wasn’t raised until too late.”
“Who called it in?”
Jed turned his head her way, frowning. “I’m not sure. Probably a neighbor. Why all the questions?”
“Just curious.” She pointed to the canvases propped against a worktable. “Those are the pieces I mentioned.”
He knelt down and using his index finger flicked quickly through them. When he stood up, he brushed off the knees of his trousers and said, “I’ll take them with me, if you’ve no objections. Kozinski will know if they’ve been sold or not and can assess their value for the estate.” He peered around the room. “If there are no more art pieces here, why don’t you take whatever you want and then pack the rest up? We can sell off the whole lot in bulk.”
“Won’t Mr. Kozinski want anything here?”
Walker’s brow knotted together. “Like what?”
“Well, he’s an art dealer with a gallery.”
“True, but he just handles the finished products.”
“What about Gabriela’s work?” Tess pointed to the other end of the room and the collection of pottery on shelves and in display cabinets.
He gave a dismissive shrug. “As I said, take what you want. I know she sold some stuff locally and donated some to charities for raffle prizes, but…”
She wasn’t in Richard Wheaton’s league and so her work should be cast aside. Oddly, the implication rankled Tess. “Then the children and I will decide.”
“Sure,” he said. “Shall we go back into the house and check out the rest of it?”
“Okay,” was all she said, though her discomfort level had risen dramatically. What she really wanted to do was to put off any more sorting and sifting, as Mavis called it, for another day. Another time when she could tackle the task alone.
But he was keen to finish the job and as soon as they entered the back door, he jerked his head toward the master bedroom. “Have you had a chance to go through their personal effects?”
Heat rose up into her face. “No, I haven’t. I didn’t think I ought to.”
When she turned her head, she saw that he was studying her. “An understandable response,” he murmured, “and I suppose you felt too uncomfortable doing it as well.”
Tess glanced away. “Yes, I did. To tell you the truth Mr. Walker—Jed,” she added at the prompt in his eyes, “I still haven’t gotten used to the idea that my father was alive these past twenty-five years. Mentally, I’d written him off as dead. So you see…”
He reached out and took her hand. “I do. Sorry, I should be more subtle. This is a difficult job for any grieving person, let alone someone in your position.” His eyes were kind and sympathetic and he pulled her toward him. Then, he abruptly pulled away.
“Would you prefer to go through the things in the master bedroom on your own?” he asked, getting back to business.
Tess nodded, baffled by the unexpected embrace.
“There is one thing,” he said. “If you find any legal papers or documents regarding the estate, Richard’s art sales—whatever—you’ll need to pass those on to me. For the rest, I’m sure there are pieces of jewelry or other valuable items that you may want to have set aside in trust for Molly or Nick. Shall we agree on a timeline? Maybe you could set aside what you think should be kept and what sold. Then I’ll come back here and make an inventory.”
Tess felt as if she’d just hopped onto a speeding rail car. Dazed, she said, “All right.”
“Speaking of papers,” Jed exclaimed, “I’ve got those letters I mentioned the other day in my office. The ones Nick found, that had been sent to you years ago? I’ll go out to the car and get them.” He started to turn away when he paused to say, “Why don’t you set up our lunch while I’m doing that?” Then he retreated along the hall to the front door.
Tess watched him go, thinking he had Alec Malone beat in the management department. And she also wondered if she’d left her own take-charge skills behind in Chicago.
TESS HAD TO RESTRAIN herself from sneaking a look at the elastic-wrapped bundle of letters Jed handed her. She took them into the bedroom she shared with Molly and tucked them under her pillow. Reading them would require time and privacy.
By the time she returned to the kitchen, Jed was opening cupboards to search for wineglasses and plates. She thought he was surprisingly adept at making himself at home and wondered if he’d enjoyed a social relationship with Richard and Gabriela as well as a professional one. Somehow, she couldn’t see her father being friends with someone like Jed. Although, she reminded herself, the father she’d known at eight years old was likely not the father Nick and Molly had known.
She sat opposite Jed and raised her glass of wine when he said, “Cheers! To a satisfactory ending for all.”
The toast was a peculiar one, she thought. The “all” obviousl
y included him, but did it extend to the children? Still, she found the food delicious even if the atmosphere in the room seemed contrived. Jed Walker was not an easy person to categorize, she thought. Unlike Alec Malone, whose character could be summed up in three words. All starting with the letter C. Caring, conscientious and controlling.
“Enjoying the food? You were smiling,” he said at the question in her face and she instantly blushed. Not that she’d been thinking anything wonderful about Alec Malone, but later, as she followed Jed to the front door, she wondered why the social worker had crept into her mind at all.
Jed loaded the canvases into the trunk of his Mercedes and came around to say goodbye. “Maybe we could have lunch—or dinner—in town the next time. Alone.”
Her reply was cut short by the approach of a vehicle driving up the gravel lane from the highway. Tess squinted, trying to identify it in the cloud of dust. It wasn’t until it pulled to a halt, dust settling on its hood and bumpers, that she recognized it as Alec Malone’s Bronco. And Nick was sitting beside him in the front seat.
The driver door swung open and Alec stepped out. He didn’t look happy.
His glance took in first Jed, then Tess.
“Sorry for the interruption,” he said, “but could I talk to you for a second, Tess?”
“I’ll be off then,” Jed stated. “Call you tomorrow, Tess. Thanks for lunch,” he said as he climbed into his car and turned over the engine.
Tess was waiting for Alec to speak but he was staring at the Mercedes as it drove toward the highway. Then he turned back to her. “Lunch with the family lawyer?”
“Why is Nick with you? What’s happened?” she asked, ignoring him.
The irritation in his face gave way to something else. Caution, Tess thought. Another word for the list. But that failed to provoke a smile this time, as Tess listened to Alec’s summary of a brawl at school, culminating in a two-day suspension for Nick.
The Second Family Page 12
