Sea Glass Cottage (20 page)

Once back in
the main room at the museum, Isabella’s assignment was to log each artifact into the computer. There was a folder for weapons—harpoons, bows and arrowheads. There was one for tools, which included those items used in the day-to-day running of the village. River’s team had found an abundance of rudimentary utensils used in the communal cooking chores. Most were made from the hard natural substances like quartz and obsidian which were prevalent in the area. Some were used to scoop out the meat from abalone shells while others were honed and sharpened and used in place of knives. A variety of bones from deer, bear, swordfish and whale were used in the same manner.

Which meant Isabella had a fair share of data entry to complete. As she got down to her work, she wouldn’t allow herself to rethink how she’d spent her lunch hour. Instead of second thoughts, she decided to ride the tidal wave Thane had provided for as long as it lasted.

That’s why she was stunned to see Drea walk through the door carrying a huge vase full of two dozen purple and white orchids.

“Who are those for?” River asked from across the room where the glass cases would hold the weapons display.

“These are for Isabella, with a card.”

River turned to stare at her employee. “What kind of lunch did you have anyway,” River teased. 

“Uh, the usual,” Isabella said getting up out of her chair to take the bouquet. She read the card, which thankfully held no indication of what the two had spent their lunch hour doing. 

“Brent didn’t send me flowers, but then marriage tends to take the romance out of everything.”

That comment brought wide-eyed looks from Isabella and Drea alike.

“Just kidding,” River said with a wink. “How’s the dating thing going with Zach?”

“Oh. Well. Zach’s been super busy with everything he has on his plate and I’m swamped with homecoming approaching and helping to plan two weddings. That’s why it isn’t easy to find time to get together. Plus, I’ve never been both the florist
and
part of the wedding party. That creates its own challenges.”

“Both Bree’s and Julianne’s? That’s a lot of pressure for you,” Isabella noted.

“It is.” Drea tilted her head to study the newcomer. “Thanks for that, not a lot of people understand that flowers are a big deal to the bride-to-be.”

“Flowers are a big focal point of the ritual, getting it right will be a reminder for years to come that you did a great job,” Isabella offered, remembering her own unfortunate, misguided nuptials where she’d wanted to toss the pictures into a roaring fire and obliterate the bad choice she’d made.

Drea blew out a breath. “Tell me about it. A lot of people don’t understand what work it is to make sure the bride, in this case two, both Bree and Julianne, get the perfect flower arrangements that reflect who they are on the big day. And then if I do a lousy job, the photographer is right there to capture it all in pictures.”

“For the bride and groom to revisit over and over again,” Isabella finished in empathetic-mode. “After all, every woman has her favorite flower she wants to see in the background.” 

Drea smiled. “I hope you like orchids.”

“Oh, I do,” Isabella said, inhaling the fragrant buds. “It’s a romantic gesture I appreciate more than he could possibly know.”

“Then don’t forget to tell him that.”

“When exactly are Julianne and Ryder getting married?” River wanted to know as she leaned over and took a whiff of the buds.

“Two weeks before Christmas so I’ve got more time to prepare for theirs. But Bree’s is closing in fast at six weeks. And she’s so busy getting her new business off the ground that it’s been a challenge.”

“Well, just for the record, if Brent ever asks you, my favorite flower is tulips or maybe sunflowers. Yeah, sunflowers are cheaper.”

Drea burst out laughing. “Okay, I’ll give him a head’s up and a nudge the next time I see him. If you ask me every man needs to keep that kind of info available in the data bank.”

T
hat afternoon on the playground, Jonah and Tommy looked on as Bobby Prather and his buddy, Doug Bayliss, ran roughshod over a group of second graders. The scene frightened the onlookers so much it had Jonah admitting, “Can you believe my dad wants me to invite him over to my house? No way am I doing that.”

“That’s because Bobby’s
mean
. Look at him over there. He’s picking on Brennie Davis.”

“I know you like her.”

Tommy lifted his shoulders. “She lives right next door to me. I’ve known her my whole life. Uh-oh, Bobby’s spotted us. He’s coming over here.”

“What are you two jerkwads lookin’ at?” Bobby demanded.

“Nothing. We’re just standing here talking,” Jonah stated.

“Well, knock it off or I’ll flatten your nose.”

Intimidated, Jonah chewed his lip but managed to sputter out, “Want to come over to my house after school?” Jonah heard the words and couldn’t believe they’d come from him. He hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake but took comfort knowing it would make his dad happy.

“Why would I want to do that?” Bobby asked. “You’re in first grade. I don’t want to hang out with a six-year-old. That would be lame.”

“Okay. Fine. Then don’t. Only reason I asked in the first place is because my dad told me to.”

“Your dad? Stop lyin’ to me you little shrimp.”

Jonah shook his head. “I’m not lying. I get in trouble if I lie.”

About that time the bell rang, signaling that recess was done. The boys rushed off to line up with their respective classes before going back inside.

The next two hours dragged by as Jonah struggled to create a collage with the letters of the alphabet. He had to pick a word that started with each letter which seemed to take forever, especially with x, y, and z. So when the final bell sounded no one was more ready to go home than he was. In the hallway, he hefted his backpack and started running toward the exit.

He skidded to a stop when he saw that Bobby Prather stood outside on the stoop, guarding the door and waiting to make trouble.

“Hey, did you mean it when you said I could come home with you after school?”

It took Jonah a few seconds to answer. “Um, sure. But you said it was lame.”

“I don’t have anything else to do so…let’s go. I’ve already spotted your dad over there at the curb. He’s always waiting for you. He’s got dogs with him.”

“Yeah. When we lived in New York it used to be my grandmother who picked me up from school until she got sick and died and then we moved here. That’s my dog, Jax with Izzy’s dog, Jazz,” Jonah explained as he went running up to his dad and immediately hunkered down to rub his pup’s ears. “Bobby’s coming over to play at our house.”

“So I see. Hello, Bobby. Have you asked your parents if it’s okay to go home with Jonah?”

“No, but they won’t care.”

Thane shook his head. “Sorry, but that’s not good enough. Let’s walk over to your house and talk to your mom or dad. How does that sound?”

“Do we have to?” Bobby moaned. “My dad’s probably at work already and mom doesn’t mind what I do as long as I stay out of her hair.”

Out of the mouths of children came the most unflattering sorts of information, Thane decided. “’Fraid so, buddy. Your mom needs to know where you are at all times. It won’t take that long since your house is just around the corner from ours.” When he saw the downhearted look on the boy’s face, he added, “Don’t look so worried, I’m sure they won’t mind.”

On the walk to the Prather house, Thane turned to Jonah and wanted to know, “How was school today?”

“My teacher said I had trouble with my math worksheet. She gave me homework and problems to add and subtract,” Jonah grumbled.

“Okay, we’ll work on that tonight when we get home. How about you, Bobby, are you any good in math?”

“We’re learning our multiplication tables. Ms. Brach says I do okay.”

By that time they’d made the shortcut through the alleyway to Athena Circle and stood in front of a country-style cottage that needed a little upkeep on the outside trim. But then it was a reminder that the stucco on his own home could use a refresh.

Bobby ran up to the porch and opened the door, keeping Thane and Jonah from ringing the doorbell. Bobby hollered into the living room, “Mom, Mom, I’m going over to Jonah Delacourt’s house to play.”

By the time Thane stepped to the door, he realized why Bobby had to yell. The volume on the television was cranked up so loud it was almost deafening. From the doorway he took in the room and the female form sprawled on the sofa.

“’Bout time you got home. You know what Brent Cody said last night…” The woman’s voice trailed off when her eyes landed on Thane. She unrolled herself from the couch and said, “Who’s this? What have you done now?”

Thane held out his hand, introduced himself. “And that’s my son, Jonah, standing on the porch. I was one of the men who went looking for Bobby last night. I thought he might like to get to know Jonah better, one on one, that way Bobby might stop picking on him at school. Is your husband around? I’d like to talk to him if he is.”

“Already left for work. You want Bobby to come over to your house for real? You should know he can be a handful.”

“That’s boys for you, always into something.”

“You’re the one opening that pizza joint on the corner, right?”

“That’s me.”

“You used to play for the Jets, didn’t you?”

“Giants,” Thane said with a grimace, and correcting the woman with a grin. “Big difference.”

“Okay. Sure. I guess it’ll be okay. Bobby, do you have homework to do?”

“Did it already.”

“Then sure, I guess. But you be back in time for supper though,” she told Bobby as he flew out the door to where Jonah stood keeping the dogs in hand. “You be good,” she shouted to her son’s back. “I don’t want Mr. Delacourt telling me you gave him trouble, you hear me? Boy never listens.”

“I’ll see that he’s back home on time,” Thane said, heading out the door on Bobby’s heels.

Once outside on the sidewalk, Thane directed each of the boys to take a dog leash and watched as they sprinted ahead, the pups scurrying beside them.

As soon as they reached the house, Thane swung the door open. What had been a romantic, quiet rendezvous point only hours earlier at lunch turned into a world of bedlam.

The dogs skidded across the floor with their nails clicking. Jonah tossed his backpack on the bench in the entryway with a thud while Bobby took a tour of the living room filled with excited chatter. While Bobby marveled at the slew of sports trophies and photographs lining the wall of Thane with celebrities, Jonah acted like it was all no big deal.

Thane offered the standard milk and cookies and Jonah’s personal favorite, the peanut butter ones Max made at the Diner. While the boys climbed up on the bar stools at the island and dug into the treats, Thane kept an ear on the conversation. He wasn’t stupid. He realized Bobby was light years from Jonah in worldly knowledge and devious cunning, especially after the language tossed around on the playground. To Thane the boy acted as if he had a pent-up temper flowing just under the surface. For that reason, he had no intentions of leaving them unsupervised for longer than a few minutes. But if he could get the kid to open up about what was making him so angry, he might be able to keep Bobby from picking on other kids, namely his own.

“Wanna take turns playing Angry Birds on my iPad?” Jonah asked, stuffing his mouth with a glob of gooey dough.

“Nah, let’s play Legos. I like to build stuff.”

In the great room, Thane supervised their play without butting in, letting them roughhouse with the blocks as boys do.

From out of the blue, Bobby picked up a photograph sitting on the end table and asked, “Who’s that in the picture?”

“That’s my mom.”

Bobby glanced over with a hang-dog look on his face. “I’m sorry I said those mean things about her. She looks nice…and pretty.”

“I never knew her,” Jonah admitted as he crashed into the tower of blocks he’d built and sat back as the whole thing tumbled down around him. “She died like my Mimi did.”

“My sister died.”

“You had a sister?” Jonah asked.

“Yeah, she came down with a disease and died when I was in kindergarten. It made my parents fight all the time.”

Ah, there’s hope yet, decided Thane. As he listened to the two boys go back and forth it occurred to him that Bobby was simply acting out in response to the negativity going on at home. If only death and misfortune didn’t have to touch those so very young, thought Thane.

Because he couldn’t wait to tell Isabella the turn of events, he sent her a text message.

In the back room at the museum, Isabella was knee deep in Chumash pottery when her cell phone dinged from inside the depths of her handbag. She dug it out, and read Thane’s words.

I think I found out why Bobby’s parents fight.

Why?

They lost a child. They’re very unhappy together.

Sounds like a reasonable explanation. But their anger is obviously affecting Bobby in the wrong way.

I feel sorry for the kid.

Me too.

Are you ready for that replay?
For good measure, he thumbed on a smiley face.

Bring it on. But make sure it’s your A game.

Good thing I’m an A game kinda guy.
He added another smiley face.

Gotta get back to work. See you tonight. Btw, thanks for the flowers.

My pleasure. I’ll have dinner waiting. Any requests?

A repeat of earlier is fine with me. Hard to do with Jonah, I know.

But that’s what I wanted to hear.

Isabella gave herself a minute to steady her heart. About that time River walked into the room, startling her back to reality, a reality that headlined one sad fact. She was way out of her league with a man like Thane Delacourt.

“I need help
finding tables for the restaurant,” Thane mentioned over the Swiss steak dinner he’d thrown together with a side of rice. “Ryder says there’s a place south of town before the cutoff to San Sebastian. Will you go with me this weekend to check it out?”

Isabella smiled. “Sure. But you should know ahead of time that I have this thing for sturdy, solid wood tables, like country French.”

He made a face. “Is that the ornate stuff with the curvy legs?”

“Cabriolet. That’s what they’re called. And no, I’m not talking about French provincial. What I like is the farmhouse look, a table with a trestle and an attractive skirt. A lot of the time the design includes tables with drawers and clever knobs.”

“Are we still talking about tables?”

She rolled her eyes. “I am. I’m not sure what you’re imagining.”

“Why not just use surfboards for tables?” Jonah asked his mouth full of rice. “You can eat off one. I’ve seen surfers at the beach eating their lunch on top of their boards.”

Izzy looked over at the boy and contemplated his visionary use of fiberglass, considered how they could make it work. “Wow, that’s not a bad idea at all. You know that side wall you have, the one with no windows. What if you took a longboard and used it like a counter, affixed it to the wall? You could put bar stools underneath and you’d easily get four more seats.”

Thane’s lips curved up. “I’m surrounded by geniuses. I bow to the superior decorator’s intellect.”

Izzy held up her hand to Jonah for a high five. “We rock our superior decorator intellect, don’t we?”

“Yeah, we rock!” Jonah said tapping her palm in reply. “I want to eat my pizza at the surfboard counter.”

Thane picked up his glass of cabernet. “I’ll have to ask Troy if it’s doable. If it is, I like the idea of continuing the surfing theme on that bare wall, not to mention the novelty of it.”

They went over the details while scrubbing pots and pans and loading the dishwasher. They got down to basic accessory ideas, like fixtures and paint,. While they worked and talked, Jonah played outside with Jax and Jazz until it got too dark to see. He came in sweaty and smelling like puppies.