Read Fonduing Fathers Online

Authors: Julie Hyzy

Fonduing Fathers (9 page)

I shrugged, but the look on his face told me he wasn’t about to let the topic drop. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of the place,” I said carefully.

“Define ‘fit.’”

“Your decorator likes reds and deep colors. Your bathroom is white and beige. It looks like it’s never been painted. And that shower curtain…”

“What’s wrong with the shower curtain?”

“Not a thing,” I lied. “Let’s change the subject.”

He laughed. “I’m giving you a hard time. I bought it on sale, if that makes any difference. Found it in a 90-percent-off bin.”

“That explains a lot.”

“What? You don’t like balloons?”

I loved it when his eyes twinkled. This man, the real Gav, was so different from the man I’d first met. “We’ll shop for a new one soon,” I promised.

He and I sat on the couch. “Your day,” he said. “Spill, because I’ve got a lot to tell you about what I’ve been up to.”

Although we’d already shared a little about our respective days at the restaurant, we’d kept personal topics to a minimum. The table we’d dined at was mere inches away from its neighbors, and as always, we opted to err on the side of paranoia where security was concerned.

“Not nearly as much to tell as I would have hoped,” I said. “Eugene Vaughn is a nice old man with a memory that ebbs and flows. The thing is, when it’s flowing, he’s not always willing to talk.” I provided a detailed accounting of the rest of the visit.

We sat facing each other on the couch. As I talked, Gav reached forward and fingered a few strands of my hair, staring at them as he did so. “So, he’s holding back. What do you plan to do about it?”

“I have an idea,” I said. “Even though Pluto, Incorporated is a privately held company, there have to be records somewhere, don’t you think?”

He nodded.

“I figure the library is my best bet. I can go down there tomorrow morning and ask the reference librarian for help.”

“Reference librarians are the best,” he said.

“You know it. If there’s a way to gather information about the company, they’re going to be able to tell us.”

“Us?” he asked. “You plan to include me? Don’t you usually traipse off on your own for your investigations?”

He was teasing, but the question gave me pause. “This is different,” I said. “I don’t usually know I’m investigating until I’m right in the middle of it. This is really the first time I’m actively seeking information. And this time, too, it’s just for me. I’m not trying to ‘save the world’ the way they mock me in the media. I’m on a personal quest this time. It’s different. I’d love your help.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do on our vacation,” he said without any sarcasm whatsoever.

“Really?”

“As a matter of fact.” He leaned forward, placed his wineglass on the coffee table, and stood. “I had a feeling you might need a little assistance, and since matters of national security don’t appear to be at stake…”

He returned to the kitchen and opened a cabinet next to the refrigerator. “Another reason why I didn’t want you puttering around in here tonight. Knowing you, you’d have stumbled across my secret stash before I could stop you.”

I put my wineglass down and sat up straighter. “What kind of secrets?”

He returned to the couch, sat next to me, and placed a manila file folder of papers on his lap. “You know how I told you I was busy yesterday and part of today?”

“You wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”

“For good reason,” he said. He gave me a sidelong glance. “You want to know what’s in here, don’t you?”

I inched a little closer. “What gives you that impression?”

“Remember that test I gave you in the Brady Press Briefing Room way back when we first met?”

I’d never forget. “Of course.”

“You should have seen yourself searching for that hidden bomb. Determined, fearless, unwavering. You get that same look in your eyes far more times than is acceptable to the White House Secret Service. You’ve got that look again right now.”

“I’d better work on that if I want to pursue my next career as an undercover agent.”

He made a so-so motion. “You’re able to hide your emotions when you need to,” he said, “but right now you’re unguarded.” His eyes were soft when he added, “I like that.” Back to business before I could get mushy, he said, “I have a couple things to share with you.” He held up two fingers, still not opening the file. “Mind you, neither may give us any more information than we have right now.”

I was as antsy as I’d ever been. We’d both completely
forgotten about our wine as Gav opened the file folder. “I spent the better part of today with Jeanne Bracken, one of the finest reference librarians on the planet.”

“You did?”

“I knew that, at a minimum, we were going to need basic information on Pluto. Not necessarily the information one can find online, but what the company was like a quarter-century ago. Who worked there, what their financials looked like….”

“You were able to get that?”

“Not everything. But enough, I think.”

Because he was delivering the news slowly, I knew it must be good. “What did you find?”

He ran his fingers along the side of the stack of papers. There were at least fifty sheets there. “I made copies of whatever I could find on Pluto, from about five years before your dad worked there until about five years after. I included recent company information as well. I didn’t know what might pop, which is why I bracketed the years and took a ‘more is better’ approach.”

I scooched close enough to Gav to spread the files across our laps. Before I dug in, I remembered. “You said ‘two things.’”

“The second thing may not materialize in to anything solid.”

I waited.

“While you were at the White House yesterday, I drove out to meet someone,” he said. “His name is Joe Yablonski. Joe was to me what I sense Eugene Vaughn was to your dad: my commanding officer for many years, and now my good friend. Joe works for…” Gav hesitated. “Let’s call it the Department of Defense.”

“Interesting wording,” I said. “What does he do for them?”

“Even if I had specifics…”

I finished it for him. “You couldn’t tell me.”

“What’s important is that he’s connected. Very connected. I don’t know anyone who wields as much influence as he does behind the scenes. And he counts me as one of his close friends. I asked if he’d be willing to meet with you.”

“He must have agreed,” I said.

“We have an appointment with him tomorrow.”

“That’s why you were so secretive yesterday,” I said, understanding now. “You were afraid of getting my hopes up and having him refuse.”

“Are you interested?”

“Are you kidding? Of course! I have no idea how to begin this kind of search into my dad’s past. If there’s opportunity for help—not just having doors opened, but to even find out which doors
exist
—I’m all for it.” I wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you, Gav.” I was lucky to have this man in my life. “You know how important this is to me.”

“I do,” he said. “I also know how persistent you are about uncovering truth. I figured if I help you find the answers you’re looking for, it might save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

“You sweet talker, you.”

“We’ll drive out there tomorrow.”

“To the Pentagon? Why not just take the Metr—”

“Not to the Pentagon. It will be better for all of us to keep this meeting on the QT.”

“Sounds very cloak-and-dagger,” I said.

“Joe is connected,” Gav repeated. “No sense jeopardizing that.”

“How would meeting with him cause any problems?”

“You’re a force, Ollie. Whether you like it or not, you have a reputation. Better to keep Joe out of it in order to protect his.”

Although Gav had spoken in an admiring tone, I wasn’t
quite sure how to take his words. “You really believe I could hurt his reputation?”

“I know it.”

Something in his voice made me ask. “Have I hurt yours?”

He hesitated.

“What did I do?” I asked. “What has happened that I don’t know?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Tell me.”

Gav flexed his jaw. “During your last adventure, there was talk that I might have become too emotionally involved.”

“Who—?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What happened?” Sounding like a nervous fifth-grader, I asked, “Did you get into trouble?”

“Not trouble,” he said.

I waited.

He sighed. “There was a plum assignment that came up. I would have been considered for it, but I was warned not to apply.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. It would have taken me out of the country. For two years.”

“Oh.” I stared up at him. “Did you want this assignment?”

He put an arm around me and pulled me tight. “Any other time of my life, yes. Not right now.”

“Do a lot of higher-ups know that we’re involved?”

“Only those who need to know,” he said.

“I don’t want to be trouble for you.”

“You’re not. I mean that.” Reacting to the look on my face perhaps, he said, “Don’t sweat it, Ollie. I’m exactly where I want to be. Let’s put that aside for now and see what we can discover in Pluto’s paperwork.”

Although I wanted to know exactly what kind of impact I might be having on his career, he seemed so eager for me to dive into the information he’d uncovered that I took his suggestion and let it go.

Gav had been thorough in his investigation, and I realized as we sifted through all the information he’d uncovered that he’d pursued this thread exactly in the manner I would have. He’d pulled together all the pertinent information about Pluto that he could find, and after about an hour of reading reports, newspaper articles, and company newsletters—which were a magnificent resource—we decided to put together a time line.

That took another hour. When I looked up, the sky was dark, the city glittering. I stood up and stretched, making my way to the windows. “I won’t say it again,” I said, “but this is so amazing. I could stay here forever.”

He came up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “It’s a little small for two people. Permanently, I mean…” He stopped.

Gav was seldom at a loss for words, but I understood. After suffering tragedies early in his life, he still had difficulty thinking and talking about the future. I placed a hand atop one of his. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Our faces were reflected back in the dark glass and I wished I could wipe the sadness from his eyes. The man was unflinchingly courageous in matters where he was required to put himself at risk. When it came to me, however, he fought powerful demons to keep fear at bay.

I turned to face him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He held me at arm’s length and studied me for a long time. “Do you promise?”

“Promise. Your worries of being a jinx are over. We can take our sweet time about the business of you and me.”

He pulled me tight and I drew in a deep breath of his
heady, manly scent. His chest rumbled as he spoke, “I don’t know, Ollie. Wherever you go, trouble follows. You get my heart racing. In more ways than one.”

“I’ll behave,” I said, laughing. “I mean, really, how much danger can I get into looking at old company reports?”

CHAPTER 8

GAV STILL HADN’T TOLD ME EXACTLY WHERE we were headed when we set out the next morning in his silver Honda Civic. We were both dressed casually, wearing sunglasses to shade the sun’s blistering brightness. We headed north and west, and were about twenty miles out of D.C. when I looked up from the notes I’d been making on the time line we’d created the night before.

“So what’s this Joe Yablonski like?” I asked.

Gav kept his eyes on the road. “I can tell those Pluto papers have you enthralled.”

“They get repetitive after a while,” I admitted. “I started adding names to the time line,” I said. “Employee of the month, retirees, etc. Trying to get an idea of who actually worked there at the same time my dad did.” I exaggerated my blinking. “Reading in the car makes my eyes go wobbly.”

“Joe’s unique,” he said. “I think you’ll like him.”

“How much farther?”

“A while.”

“Great,” I said, “plenty of time to get dizzy.”

I resumed reading for about five minutes. “Hey!” I said.

Gav lowered his sunglasses long enough to glance over to me. “That sounds promising.”

“Maybe. About three weeks after my dad died, one of the company vice presidents was hurt on the job, and badly. He’s in a wheelchair and homebound.”

“How does that help you?”

“It doesn’t. But Harold Linka, the man who was disabled, still works for the company. He has an office at home.” I pointed even though Gav kept his eyes forward. “Maybe he’d be willing to talk to us.”

“If we really believe that your dad was shot and subsequently framed by a man he worked with, then you risk opening up old wounds.”

I frowned at him and waited for him to notice before I spoke. “I wouldn’t go in there all gangbusters. I’d be careful. Even if this Harold Linka didn’t know my dad well, he might know who his friends were back then.”

“Don’t lose sight of the fact that memories shift over time. Twenty-five years can skew recollections.”

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