Bayview Heights Trilogy (42 page)

“I’ve got an interview for the position with
the Board of Regents a week from Friday.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Standing, Seth crossed to the window to look
out. “My secretary is resigning, I’ve got problems with the staff
and the kids are fighting just as much. Maybe the
Herald’s
right. Maybe the high school needs another principal. A younger
one. Alex Ransom could fill my shoes easily.”

“What does the
Herald
have to do
with this?”

“Spending so much time in Lacey Cartwright’s
company has been difficult for me.”

Mitch waited before he said, “She’s a
bitch.”

Seth whirled. The words were out of his mouth
before he could stop them. “No, she’s not a bitch. She’s a caring
woman. She loves kids, she wants what’s good for the school. She’s
fun and interesting, and—” Seth halted when he saw a twinkle of
something...knowing...in Mitch’s eyes. A look that said,
I
thought so
.

“What’s going on out here?” Joey asked from
the doorway before Seth could defend himself.

His son and Johnny shuffled into the kitchen.
Glad for the diversion, Seth studied them. The boys couldn’t be
more different in appearance. Joey was tall, lean, blond and
blue-eyed, with classic features. He was dressed in khaki slacks,
an oxford shirt and a navy pullover sweater. Johnny was mostly
muscle, with shaggy black hair and snapping black eyes. He wore
dark jeans and a black shirt. His former sullenness, however, was
gone.

Joey sat down next to Mitch, and Johnny went
over to the refrigerator and took out two cans of soda.

Joining the men at the table, Johnny asked
Mitch, “Where’s Cassie?”

“Upstairs resting.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“I hog-tied her.”

Johnny grinned.

“You need a haircut,” Mitch said gruffly,
reaching over and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“Look who’s talking. Yours has never been
that long.”

Mitch laughed and leaned back in his chair,
his eyes shining with unabashed affection.

“How’s school?” Seth asked. He could remember
a time not so long ago when Johnny had been about to drop out of
Bayview Heights High School. Now he was a freshman at Columbia
University in premed.

“Good. Working at the clinic’s better.”

“He’s going to make dean’s list,” Mitch said
proudly.

Johnny rolled his eyes.

“You, too, I’ll bet,” Mitch said to Joey.

“Yeah, probably,” Joey answered. “But I wish
I could do what Johnny’s doing. My journalism courses would be much
more interesting if I could get some work experience along with
school.” He turned to his father. “I’ve been thinking about seeing
if I can work at the newspaper in town the month I’m home between
semesters. What do you think, Dad?”

Seth wanted to groan at the suggestion. He
mumbled something noncommittal. The last thing he needed was for
his son to get involved with the
Herald
.

Two hours later at the dining room table
laden with a lavish Thanksgiving meal, Seth berated himself for his
negative thoughts. He had good friends, a loving son and a nice
life. What right did he have to complain? He vowed to enjoy the
warmth and camaraderie around him.

“Before we eat, I’d like to start a Lansing
tradition,” Mitch said. He cleared his throat. “Since this is our
first Thanksgiving together. I want everyone to share what he or
she has to be thankful for. I’ll start.” He placed his hand on
Cassie’s belly. “I’ve got three things, actually. His gaze locked
on his wife. “Cassandra, of course. And the baby.” He turned to the
boy on his right. “And Johnny.”

Seth watched Johnny swallow hard, reach over
and squeeze Mitch’s arm. Showing emotion wasn’t easy for either of
them.

“I’ll go next, Johnny said, smiling at Cassie
then Mitch. “I’m thankful to be a part of the Lansing family.”

Cassie’s eyes teared and she blinked hard.
“And I’m grateful for you both, too.”

Kurt, who had arrived moments before dinner
was served, spoke next. “I’m glad my brother is happy again.” He
lifted his wineglass in silent salute to the woman who’d made it
happen.

When it was Joey’s turn, he leveled his sky
blue eyes on Seth. “I’m thankful for my dad.”

Seth’s throat closed up. “Thanks, son. The
same goes for me. I’m thankful for you.”

The emotional moment passed, and they all dug
into turkey and the trimmings. Seth’s mind zigzagged to Lacey
Cartwright.

What did she have to be thankful for this
year? Anything? Kevin was in prison. Her grandfather was ill and
angry with her. And it was all because of Seth.

o0o

PHILIP’S HAND trembled as he sliced the small
turkey, and Lacey’s heart constricted. She remembered those hands
teaching her to type, catching a football from Kevin and hefting
her new Christmas stereo up to her room. His frailty deflated the
little holiday spirit she’d awakened with this morning.

“Looks good, honey. Though we should have
gone out to dinner.”

Stifling a groan at the thought of spending
Thanksgiving Day in some impersonal restaurant, Lacey gave him a
weak smile. “I love to cook, Grandpa. I don’t do it often
enough.”

He harrumphed. “You’ve got other things to
do. Celia and I can manage the meals.”

“What’s Celia doing today?”

“How should I know?” He looked up at Lacey.
“Oh, all right. She’s having her kids over.”

“How nice.”

“She invited us.”

Oh, God, and you said no?
They could
have been in a house full of people. With kids. Maybe even babies.
Glancing around their solemn home, Lacey bit her tongue to keep
from voicing the accusation.

As if he’d read her mind, Philip said,
“Couldn’t imagine having dinner with the little rug rats her kids
have now.”

Lacey sighed. “Remember how Kevin used to
smush mashed potatoes through his fingers?”

Philip’s look brightened. “And the squash,
too. We’d try and hide it from him, but Kevin always liked bright
colors and his eyes zeroed right in on the orange.

Memories of her childhood flooded Lacey, but
she dammed them up. Holidays were tough enough without trips down
memory lane. They ate in silence.

“What time are we going to Barker Island?”
Philip finally asked.

Lacey glanced at the antique grandfather
clock that had stood guard over the dining-room table for as long
as she could remember. “I thought we’d leave about two.”

Philip gripped the fork. “I can’t imagine…”
His words choked him. “Thanksgiving...in a place like that.”

Reaching over, Lacey touched his hand. “Don’t
think about it, then. Think about how we’ll cheer him up when we
get there.”

The lie fell heavily between them. Both knew
that nothing they did would cheer up the sullen young man they’d
visit that afternoon.

After the meal that neither enjoyed, Philip
insisted he clean up, but Lacey demanded he rest before they left
for the two-hour drive to the prison. As she worked on the dishes,
she stared out at the backyard, watching two squirrels scurry up
and down the bare branches of a red maple tree.

Look, Lace, a squirrel.

Don’t touch him, Kevin. He’ll
bite.

I’ll bite back.

Lacey remembered thinking how odd Kevin’s
reaction had been. She remembered worrying about his comment.
Later, there had been marked signs of aggression. He’d become a
violent boy, and Lacey agonized over what more they could have done
to help him. They’d finally traced part of the problem to a
chemical imbalance and he had just been put on a new medication
when he’d been kicked out of school.

When
Seth Taylor
had kicked him out
of school.
Best remember that, Lacey. And remember what any
connection with him would do to your grandfather
. She did, and
it helped her not think about Seth today, not to wonder what he was
doing, who he was having dinner with. His son? His mother? Monica
Matthews?

Sighing, Lacey checked the clock again. She
wished she could go running, but her ankle still hurt. She
remembered the feel of Seth’s long fingers on her skin. The gentle
way he’d probed to see if she was hurt. With difficulty, she
banished the thought.

Instead, she tried to figure out what she
could do to make Kevin’s Thanksgiving a little brighter. Not much,
she decided, when she pictured Barker Island, as grim and
foreboding as a medieval fortress.

o0o

KEVIN CRUMPLED the copy of the
Herald
that his grandfather had sent him and stared at the
gray walls surrounding him. Instead of panicking at being locked
in, instead of bawling like a damn baby at being in here on
Thanksgiving, he thought about the editorial page of the newspaper
he’d just read. What the hell was Lacey doing? Until now, she’d
gone along with his grandfather’s attacks on that bastard Taylor,
on that stupid place that couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

“You got visitors, Cartwright.” Cramden stood
outside his cell. “It’s that juicy sister of yours and the old
man.”

Kevin forced himself to ignore the guard’s
taunting. His sister and grandpa were here. He gripped the steel
post of the bed. He could handle Lacey’s concern, her pity, but he
didn’t want to see his grandfather’s face today. He’d look so sad,
so disappointed. Kevin couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t brought
that look to Philip’s eyes. No matter how hard he tried not to.

They’d be worried, too, he thought as he
rubbed the bump on his right temple. Hell, he hadn’t deserved that,
any more than he’d deserved being in this dungeon. Just because
he’d gotten in the middle of some blowup between Black Eyes and
Brazil.

“Come on, I don’t have all day.” Cramden’s
voice was gruff as he unlocked the cell and pulled open the
door.

“Yeah, well, who gives a rat’s ass?”

The guard started to close the door but Kevin
shouldered his way out. “I’m comin’.”

He saw his grandfather as soon as he entered
the visiting area. Kevin couldn’t believe how much the old man had
aged since the heart attack. His hair was whiter, and his shoulders
stooped. For the first time, Philip Cartwright looked his age.

o0o

PHILIP WATCHED Kevin sit down on the other
side of the half-wall barrier that separated the inmates from their
visitors. “Hi, son.” He reached out to squeeze Kevin’s arm.

At first Kevin drew back. Then he allowed a
brief touch.

Studying Kevin, Philip asked, “What happened
to your face?”

“I walked into a post,” he said simply.

“Kevin, if anything’s happening I need to
know—”

“Nah, Grandpa, nothin’.”

Silence. Then Philip spoke. “What did you
have for dinner today?”

“Fried squirrel,” Kevin said
sarcastically.

Philip felt his face fall.

“Sorry. The usual. Turkey.” Kevin looked
around. “Where’s Lacey?”

“In the waiting room. She thought we should
have some time together alone. Philip wished she’d come in with
him, though. He no longer knew what to say to the boy he loved so
much. “I brought you some more newspapers. I gave them to the
guard.”

“What’s going on with the
Herald
,
Grandpa? I read the editorial Lacey wrote a couple of weeks
ago.”

“I don’t exactly know, son. Lacey seems to
think we’ve taken too hard a line with the high school. She wants
to give them some good press.”
And it’s got something to do
with Taylor
.

He saw his grandson’s hands fist. “Doesn’t
she remember what they did to me? It’s that freakin’ Taylor’s fault
I’m here.”

Guilt tugged at Philip. “I know, Kevin. But
Lacey’s always been more forgiving than us.”

Kevin stood up. “Yeah, well, tell her I don’t
want to talk to her if she’s gonna take his side.”

“You don’t mean that. She’ll be devastated.
She drove all this way to see you. And it’s Thanksgiving Day.”

“I don’t care.”

“Please, son, sit down.”

“No, I’m goin’ back in.” Kevin turned and
stalked out.

Philip watched him go and winced when the
door clanged shut. He stared at it for a long time after Kevin
left. What was he going to tell Lacey? Could he bear to see her
face when he told her Kevin wouldn’t see her?

Oh, God, I have to do something
, he
thought.
Things are spinning out of control
. And it was
Seth Taylor’s fault.

Reaching into his back pocket, he dragged out
his wallet and fished inside it. The private investigator’s phone
number was right where he’d put it before his heart attack.

He’d find a way to discredit Taylor, he
decided as he stood and headed for the door. He’d find a way to
make Lacey hate Taylor as much as Philip and Kevin did. Then
there’d be no reason for his family to be torn apart.

o0o

LACEY LOOKED OUT the window of the
Herald’s
office at 6:00 p.m. the day after Thanksgiving
and realized she needed to leave for home right away. How much snow
had
accumulated while she’d been immersed on the
Internet?

She’d come to the office today to try to
forget her problems—mostly the slicing hurt she felt when Kevin had
refused to see her yesterday. His intentional rebuff still brought
tears to her eyes.

Shoving back the emotion, she shut off her
computer and gathered her things. Bundled up in a heavy parka with
a hood, she donned fleece-lined boots, a wool hat and gloves. She
locked up and found her way to her Honda.

The wind had stung her cheeks and made her
eyes water by the time she got inside the car and started the
engine. She couldn’t see through the icy windshield, so she climbed
out again. As she hacked at the heavy layer of ice, she swore.
Damn, she’d forgotten how she hated these New York storms. When one
blew in, conditions could be treacherous, though it looked as if
the snowfall was letting up.