A beat of silence passed. No one spoke. His father’s gaze bored into his back. Gabe parted his lips to speak. He might as well get the apology over with, but the female officer spoke first.
“Mrs. Becker, last night you mentioned you might have an alternative consequence for Gabe Sinclair. This is a bit irregular, but the chief okayed it.” She turned to Gabe’s father. “Mr. Sinclair, are you willing to hear Mrs. Becker out?”
“The kid’s eighteen,” Gabe’s father said in a tight huff. “His stupid choices are his own damn fault.”
“Hmm?” Mrs. Becker hummed. “When did you turn eighteen, Gabriel?”
Gabe’s head whipped up. Nobody had called him Gabriel in a long time.
“Last week, ma’am.”
“No, Gabriel, don’t call me ma’am.” Mrs. Becker’s expression remained severe, but her blue eyes warmed a touch. “You are the same age as my granddaughter, Monica. You can call me Oma.”
Gabe blinked. This meeting was getting stranger by the second.
Oma narrowed her gaze. “You are barely eighteen, correct, Gabriel?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, yes, Oma.”
“Why are we here?” Gabe’s father cut in. “I’ve got a job scheduled for today. I don’t have time to be pussy-footing around in a bakery. Lock the kid up or let him go.”
Oma nodded. “I agree. Well said, Mr. Sinclair.”
Gabe’s father stared at the woman, dumbfounded.
“Gabriel, you have a choice,” Oma began. “You can go with the police, and I will press charges. I will request you get the most severe punishment. You are eighteen now. This could follow you for the rest of your life.”
Gabe’s father blew out a hot breath and shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Gabe ignored his father. “What’s my other choice, Oma?”
The hint of a smile turned at the corner of Gerda Becker’s lips. “You spend this summer here, working in the bakery to pay off the cost of the door. Doors are not cheap. You will need to work many hours, and we start very early.”
“He can’t work here, Oma,” a voice called.
Monica emerged from a door next to the bank of ovens. After years of observing the bakery, Gabe determined this must be the door that led to the upstairs apartment.
She stopped behind the glass case. “He has a paper route. He won’t be able to get here early enough. He would only be in the way if he came in later.”
Oma pinned her granddaughter with her gaze.
Monica looked away. “I just don’t think it would work.”
“I thought you quit that route two years ago?” Mr. Sinclair belted out.
Monica’s gaze flicked to Gabe. He met hers briefly before turning to his father. “I’m helping the new kid out. He does the neighborhood houses, and I do the town center.”
A red blush returned to his father’s cheeks. “For two years? For two years you’ve been doing this?”
“You’re never up, pop. It’s never gotten in the way of me helping out with the moving company.”
His father took a step toward Oma. “I need Gabe to work for me this summer.”
Monica’s grandmother crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her biceps. “I wonder what your moving clients will think when they hear that criminals work for you?”
“I don’t hire criminals!” Gabe’s father shot back.
“If your son doesn’t come work off the debt for my broken door, you will have a criminal working for you, am I wrong?”
The red blush intensified. “What if I just wrote you a check? This can all be over, right here, right now.”
Money was tight. The business wasn’t doing well. Even the cost of replacing a door would hit them hard.
Oma shook her head. “No, that is not an option.”
His father blew another exasperated breath. “Then you’ve left me with no choice.”
Oma stood stock-still, unmoved by his father’s outburst. “There’s always a choice, Mr. Sinclair, but it’s not always an easy choice. It never is when it comes to our children.”
An oven beeped. The sound burst through the tiny space like a signal that time was running out.
“I’ll work for Mrs. Becker. I’ll work in the bakery this summer and help you out whenever I can, pop,” Gabe said.
His father shook his head, but not in disagreement. He knew Monica’s grandmother had outsmarted him.
Gabe glanced at Oma. Her neutral expression gave away nothing.
Why did she want him to work for her?
Oma clapped her hands, signaling the decision was final. “Monica, give the officers their strudels.” Oma smiled at the pair. “Thank you. Your work here is done.”
“What would you like us to tell the chief?” the female officer asked.
“Tell him we’ve worked it all out,” Oma said, smiling like a benevolent overlord.
The policeman stared down at his strudel. His partner shot out her elbow. It connected with his ribs.
He looked up, no longer mesmerized by the pastry. “I’m glad we were able to get this worked out.”
Oma nodded, and the officers left the shop, cradling their strudels.
After the squad car pulled away, his father grabbed him by the collar. “Come on, Gabe. We’ll discuss this more at home.”
“No, no,” Oma said, still wielding her absolute authority. “Gabriel starts now.”
“Now?” his father bellowed.
Oma held Gabe’s father’s gaze. “Now.”
The sweet smell of honey and warm puff pastry scented the air as a pocket of silence swallowed the room. Gabe’s father looked away and rubbed his neck. He must have forgotten to take his pain pills that morning. Lines of stress that went beyond anger pulled at the corners of his eyes.
Oma glanced at Monica. “Monica, please box up and hand me one of our beinestitch, bee sting strudels.”
Monica opened the display case, removed a strudel, and packed it into a pink box with the shop’s three-tiered cake logo on the lid. She handed the box to her grandmother.
Oma took the strudel and held it out toward Gabe’s father like a peace offering. “It’s been a long time, but I think I remember this being your favorite.”
The pain and anger on his father’s face softened.
“It’s easy to forget the sweet things in life. Maybe this will remind you,” Oma added.
His father took the pastry box. He glanced around the room before his gaze landed on the box in his hands. Without a word, he turned and left the shop.
Gabe tried to smile. “I’m sorry about my dad. He’s never been the same since—”
Oma put up her hand. “I am not interested in excuses, Gabriel. You are a mover? You can carry a box?”
He nodded, surprised by the questions.
Oma stared him down. “Good, you will help Monica with the deliveries.”
Monica’s mouth dropped open.
“When?” Gabe asked.
The hint of a smile drew across the woman’s lips. “Now.”
5
Monica shifted the old Subaru Forrester into second gear. The ancient car, with nearly two hundred thousand miles on it, had served as the bakery’s delivery vehicle for as long as she could remember. She jiggled the gearshift. It always got temperamental going into third.
Gabe sat next to her in the passenger seat and rubbed his hands together. His knee hadn’t stopped bouncing since they’d gotten into the car three hours ago. “That’s pretty cool you can drive a stick shift.”
She didn’t even look his way. He’d been trying to make conversation all day, but he hadn’t even mentioned last night or the broken glass door. They had one more delivery to make, and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of asking him why he had taken the blame. Something prickly festered in her chest.
What was he playing at?
Why was he at the bakery at eleven o’clock at night?
What did he want from her?
And why did Oma w
ant him to work in the bakery?
She felt her cheeks heat. Gabe had to have heard Chip’s rant. He had to have heard all those horrible things Chip had said about her. But Gabe Sinclair was no better. Chip hadn’t told her exactly what Gabe said about her, only that it was crass and sexual.
She gripped the gearshift and shifted into fourth.
Gabe eyed the speedometer. “You may want to be careful. The speed limit on Langley Park Boulevard is only thirty-five on this stretch.”
Monica pressed on the gas. The needle went from forty to forty-five.
Gabe shook his head, and Monica bit back a triumphant smile. Screw him! She had spent so much time wondering about this boy. What was she supposed to make of him now? Another wave of anger sat poised and ready to pull her into the undertow of full-blown fury. But just before she gave in, his words came back to her.
Monica, it’s all right. I’m not going to let him hurt you.
She had been so frightened, so confused, so humiliated. Even with all those emotions swirling around, something in Gabe’s eyes told her he would rather die than allow her to get hurt.
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
Gabe unfolded the delivery schedule, and the rustle of paper pulled her from her thoughts.
“Last stop, I think, is Midwest Medical. Some sort of nurse training,” he said, holding the paper close to his eyes.
She bit back another smile. Oma still wrote out each delivery schedule. They’d purchased a computer a few years ago. But just a few days after it arrived, she’d found it covered in buttercream frosting after Oma had clearly lost patience with the machine.
Monica nodded but kept her gaze on the road.
Gabe Sinclair better be ready for one quiet summer.
She pulled into the hospital’s parking lot and set the parking brake. Gabe jumped out of the car and headed to the back. This was the sixth and final delivery. They’d been to a synagogue, two churches, a three-year-old’s birthday party, and a yoga retreat next to a field of sunflowers. That’s when she realized her sunflower locket was still missing.
Out of habit, she reached for her locket then cursed under her breath. Another wave of prickly anger passed over her as she joined Gabe at the back of the car. He pulled three boxes of cupcakes from the catering cooler and balanced them in his arms.
She closed the hatchback. “I iced all seventy-two of those cupcakes. Don’t even think of dropping them.”
“She speaks,” he said, that sweet dimple popping out as he smiled.
Monica shook her head. She sped up to walk ahead of him. “Don’t get used to it.”
She led him to the information desk, and her irritation dialed down a notch when she saw a familiar face. “Hey, Donna, you’re not in the CCU today?”
The nurse came around from behind the counter and folded Monica into a warm hug. “Things are a little wonky with the training. I’m helping out down here for a few hours.” She glanced at Gabe and gestured toward the desk. “You can set those down, honey.” She gave Gabe the once over and met Monica’s gaze. “New hire?”
Monica rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”
Donna gave her a curious look, but her expression darkened. “Vanessa’s back.”
“Did they find a donor?”
“A donor?” Gabe echoed.
Donna frowned. “Who exactly is this?”
“Nobody,” Monica said. She channeled her grandmother and shot Gabe a stern look.
He said nothing and took a step back.
“Can I go up, Donna?”
“Sure,” the nurse said then glanced at Gabe. “But you’re taking your puppy dog with you.”
“Come on, Gabriel,” Monica said, doing her best impression of Oma. She waved goodbye to Donna and headed toward the bank of elevators.
They entered an empty elevator, and the doors closed.
“Where are we going?” Gabe asked.
“The Cardiac Care Unit.”
“To visit…Vanessa?” he continued.
“I’m going to visit Vanessa. You’re going to wait in the hallway.”
Her stomach turned. Vanessa had been waiting for a heart to become available for a transplant. If she wasn’t here for the operation, something bad must have happened.
The elevator pinged, and the doors opened to the fourth floor. Monica shot off the lift and almost collided with Vanessa’s mother at the nurses’ station.
“Monica,” the woman said. She looked exhausted.
“Hi, Mrs. Garza, I saw Donna downstairs. She told me Vanessa was back.”
Vanessa’s mother nodded. “The driveline of her VAD’s exit sight showed signs of infection. We got here a couple of days ago.”
“What’s—” Gabe began.
Monica cut him off. “Can I go in and see her?”
She grabbed onto Gabe’s forearm, hoping he would get the message to keep his lips zipped.
Mrs. Garza nodded then glanced at Gabe.
Monica released his arm. She thought touching him would trigger irritation, but a fluttery sense of excitement bloomed in her belly just as it had when she shook his hand at the basketball court.
She clasped her hands in front of her. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just helping out with deliveries.”
Mrs. Garza nodded. “I was hoping to check in with my family. Would you mind if I stepped out and made a few calls downstairs? I’d feel better knowing she was with you. She loves your visits. She’s just a couple of doors down in room four ten.”
“Absolutely! You’re my last stop. There’s no need to rush. I have plenty of time.”
That wasn’t quite the truth. There was always something to be prepped or prepared at the bakery, but that would have to wait.
Mrs. Garza headed to the elevators, and Monica started down the hall. Gabe hung back a step. She got to Vanessa’s room but stopped. In the Cardiac Care Unit, all the hospital suites had large windows that looked out into the hallway. Vanessa had spotted her first and waved.
Monica went to the sink situated outside Vanessa’s door. She washed her hands and put surgical booties over her shoes. Gabe watched from a few feet away.
Her fingertips still tingled from where they had made contact with his arm. She released a breath and pinned him with her gaze. “Wait here. Don’t talk to anyone.”
He peered past her shoulder and into Vanessa’s room. A serious look crossed his face. “She’s so young.”
Monica craned her neck and waved to Vanessa then turned back to Gabe. “She’s thirteen.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait here.”
The butterflies were back. She glanced at his arms. Tanned and muscled, she imagined what it would be like to have them wrapped around her shoulders. She flicked her gaze to the floor. Did she like him, or did she hate him? She wanted to hate him, but something about him called to her. Something about him felt safe and warm.
She shook her head to ward off the twist of emotions. “I’m going in.”
She opened the door and put on her brightest smile. “You missed me that much you had to go and get an infection to come back to Langley Park?”
“Life gets so boring out on the western plains of Colby, Kansas,” Vanessa replied. Her eyes lit up, but her lips held the slightest tinge of blue.
Monica perched on the edge of Vanessa’s bed. The girl’s portable sewing machine sat on a table by the window. “It hasn’t stopped you from designing,” Monica said and gestured to the compact Singer bathed in a pool of late afternoon light.
A mischievous glint sparked in Vanessa’s eyes. “You brought your boyfriend.”
Monica glanced out into the hallway. Gabe turned his head a fraction too quickly. He must have known he’d been caught. He dug his hands into his pockets, and his cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she replied. But the words didn’t seem to ring true.
“Could I have him?” Vanessa teased. She sat up and waved her hands wildly.<
br />
“Vanessa, what are you doing?” Monica whisper-shouted.
“I’m inviting him in. We don’t get a lot of tall, dark, and delicious in the Cardiac Care Unit. I take what I can get.”
“No!” Monica whisper-shouted again. “He’s…”
She couldn’t think of how to describe him. All she could picture were his eyes last night as he pleaded with her to go inside before the police arrived. She turned to look out into the hall. Gabe was washing his hands. He would be in any second.
“It’s messy with this guy,” Monica continued. She needed to get a grip. But what was she supposed to say? She’d been secretly pining over this boy who saved her from being assaulted then took the blame for a destruction of property crime he didn’t commit? It sounded crazy.
Vanessa held her gaze. That glint was still there. The door creaked open, and Vanessa tossed her a sassy wink.
“Come on in! I’m Vanessa,” the girl said, grinning ear to ear.
“I’m Gabe. It’s nice to meet you.” A sheepish expression crossed Gabe’s face. He looked adorable in the hospital booties stretched to their absolute limit.
“Sorry for the tiny booties,” Vanessa said, grin still in place. “I don’t get a lot of guys your size coming into my room.”
“Vanessa!” Monica exclaimed. She shook her head, but she had to admit, she was glad to see the girl in good spirits. These hospital stays weren’t easy on the teen. Last time she’d seen her, her friend could barely lift her head from the pillow.
Vanessa ignored her and reached out to shake Gabe’s hand. “I’m Vanessa Garza, but before you fall madly in love with me, I need to let you know I’m in a relationship with Vad.”
Gabe chuckled and leaned in to shake Vanessa’s hand. That dimple was back on his cheek, softening his strong, angular features and giving him a sweet, boyish quality. The butterflies erupted again.
“This Vad is a lucky guy.”
He straightened up, and his thigh brushed against hers. The butterfly chorus in her belly continued.
“Vad’s not a guy,” Vanessa countered.
“Okay, Vad’s a lucky girl,” Gabe said, amending his statement.
Monica glanced up at Gabe. He was so close. She could feel his body heat. “VAD isn’t a person. Vanessa’s pulling your leg.”
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 81
