The encounter with Harry served as a stark reminder of
everything he’d been thinking. What the hell did he know about being a father?
When he was a kid, his own example had been distant, preoccupied with work, then
increasingly sharp—bordering on cruel—as Jack had reached adolescence.
By the time his mother eventually took her own life out of
despair and loneliness and mental illness, Harry had given up any effort at
establishing a relationship and had shown nothing but disdain for him.
Maybe Jack ought to just cut Sage a break now and slip back out
of her life as quickly as he had come. She hadn’t had a chance yet to establish
any real feelings for him. She had her mother, her grandmother, a strong support
network here in Hope’s Crossing. Why on earth did she need
him?
He stopped himself before he could go further down that road.
The idea of leaving now, after he had only just found her, was unbearable. He
wanted to be a father to her, in whatever limited capacity he could manage.
If that meant achieving some sort of peaceful accord with
Maura, he was willing to do that too. He had to think that somewhere inside the
prickly, sad-eyed woman she had become were some traces of the smart, funny,
tender girl she had once been.
He was willing to do whatever might be necessary to find her
again.
* * *
C
OMPARED
TO
THE
EXCITEMENT
of an ambulance and paramedics and a wobbly Harry Lange,
the rest of Maura’s day seemed depressingly uneventful.
Even with the hectic holiday season and the various challenges
it presented to a business owner—the crowds and the chaos and even a couple of
teenage shoplifters she had to turn over to Riley—she found that every day
seemed very much like the one before. Tomorrow would probably be more of the
same.
Every once in a while she had a wild urge to do something
crazy. To leave the store and take off cross-country skiing for the day, or
drive into Denver for some retail therapy, or just walk away from everything and
catch a flight to some secluded beach in Mexico.
She was grateful for her job and her business, for the comfort
of routine. But she still sometimes wanted to chuck everything and escape, even
in the middle of the holidays.
She looked around the store. It was nearly six-thirty, and the
crowd had thinned a great deal as people headed home or to one of the many
restaurants for dinner in Hope’s Crossing. They would probably see a bit of a
spike again in about an hour, but nothing to compare to the afternoon
crowds.
“Sierra, do you think you and Joe can handle the registers by
yourselves?”
“Absolutely, Maur,” her employee assured her, flipping
stick-straight blond hair out of her eyes. “We’re totally dead now. Go home and
grab some dinner and put your feet up and watch something brainless on TV!”
That idea sounded really lovely, if only she didn’t have about
four hours of paperwork to do. But one of her favorite things about being a
small-business owner was that she could do said paperwork at home with her feet
up on the coffee table if she wanted—or even if she didn’t want to.
“I think that’s just what I’ll do. Thanks for everything
today.”
“No prob. See you tomorrow.”
Maura headed back to her office to pick up her laptop. On
impulse, she sat down and grabbed the phone and quickly dialed the number to the
Hope’s Crossing hospital, a small forty-bed unit that served the town and the
smaller surrounding communities.
“Yes, I’m checking on a patient. Harry Lange,” she told the
operator.
“Are you a family member of Mr. Lange’s?”
Does being the recently discovered baby
mama of his estranged son count?
She sincerely doubted it. “No,” she
had to confess.
“In that case, I’m afraid I can’t release any information on
Mr. Lange’s condition. I’m sorry.”
“I understand. Can you transfer me to his room?” That would at
least let her know if he had been admitted.
“Yes. Hold on a moment, please.”
So he was still there. She wasn’t sure why she cared about the
man’s condition, as demanding and arrogant and downright unpleasant as she found
him. Much to her chagrin, some stupid part of Maura actually felt a little sorry
for Harry Lange. Despite having everything most people thought necessary for a
life to be deemed a success, Harry’s unhappiness was palpable. His own choices
had left him sour and bombastic and bitterly alone.
Apparently one of those choices was to ignore the phone in his
hospital room. The phone rang eight times in the room before she was bounced
back to the chirpy operator. “I’m afraid there’s no answer in that room.”
“I’ll call back. Thank you.”
She hung up the phone. Maybe she ought to swing by to check on
him. She frowned at the thought. Why would she even consider it, except for the
fact that he had been standing in her store when he’d had his little
incident?
Harry Lange was none of her business. She should despise
everything about the man—because of him, Jack had turned his back on all they
might have had together.
“Trouble with a vendor?”
She turned at her mother’s voice and found Mary Ella in the
doorway. She looked bright and pretty in a turtleneck with her little reading
glasses hanging by a new beaded chain Maura hadn’t seen before. If she could
look half as smart and put-together as her mother when she had six decades under
her belt she would consider herself blessed.
“Not a vendor. I was just calling the hospital to check on
Harry Lange.”
Mary Ella’s finely arched eyebrows shot way up. “Okay, that
statement is just wrong on so many levels. What happened to that old son of
a—er, monkey? And why on earth would you be calling to find out about it?”
“You hadn’t heard? I figured the gossip would have spread all
over town by now.”
“I’ve been at home working on that quilt I’m making for Rose’s
oldest and cleaning the house before they get here next week. I haven’t talked
to a soul. What happened?”
“How’s the quilt coming?”
“Fine. Now, what happened to Harry?”
Her mother’s urgency made her blink. Mary Ella
despised
Harry. They had a long-standing feud and
could barely tolerate being in the same room with each other on the few
community occasions where that might be necessary.
“This morning he stopped into the bookstore to pick up a
special order. Wouldn’t you know it, he walked in just as Jack was about to
leave. Seeing his long-lost son must have been too much for him. I don’t know if
it was shock or disgust or something else, but he stumbled a little, hitting his
head on one of the display tables. Considering he passed out for a moment, I
insisted on calling the paramedics.”
Mary Ella sank into one of her visitor chairs. “Is he all
right?”
“Privacy laws, remember? They can’t tell me anything. He seemed
fine when the paramedics came. He was sitting up and snapping at everyone before
the paramedics made him go to the hospital.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because Harry is a bastard. You’re the first one standing in
line to call him that.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Mary Ella murmured.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’ll be stomping around town bossing
people around before we know it.” Maura decided to change the subject. She had
spent enough time worrying about Harry Lange—and his progeny—today. “So what
brings you here? Isn’t it the Beadapalooza over at String Fever?”
Claire’s annual event attracted beaders from around the county,
drawn to slashed prices and the great offers on bead kits. It was usually the
perfect way to de-stress from the holidays, with the bonus of allowing people
the opportunity to make a few last-minute gifts.
“Exactly. That’s why I’m here. Claire sent me over to see if
you are coming.”
She refused to feel guilty for skipping this year. The book
club the night before had been more than enough socializing for her. She thought
about trying to come up with an excuse to appease her mother, but finally opted
for the truth.
“Mom, this whole thing with Jack… I’m just not ready to face
everyone again. It’s been bad enough this year since Layla… Well, it’s been bad
enough. And now this. I can’t bear to have everybody talking about me and Jack
and our history together now. I’m going to pass. Please give my love to Claire.
Next year will be better.” She hoped.
“Oh, honey.” Mary Ella’s mouth trembled and Maura really hoped
her mother wouldn’t start crying, because then
she
would start crying.
They were both saved by a bustling outside the door, then a
strange, squeaky sound. A moment later, Sage appeared in the doorway. “Oh, good.
You
are
still here. Are you leaving soon? I was
hoping I could catch a ride home with you.”
She frowned. Sage had on her red peacoat, but it looked bulky
and unnatural. Maybe she was hiding a Christmas present under there. Maura
ordered herself not to ask, though she really hated secrets. “I thought you were
having dinner with your, er, with Jack tonight.”
“We changed our plans. He called just after I left the store
this afternoon and said his assistant scheduled a couple of conference calls and
he couldn’t get out of them. I think he felt really bad, but I’m cool with it.
He’s picking me up for breakfast tomorrow. Right after I hung up with him, Josie
texted me. She’s back from UCLA for the holidays, so we’ve been hanging out at
her house.”
“Oh, how is Josie? Is she liking Stanford?”
“She’s good. I guess she likes it okay, but all she wanted to
talk about was her new boyfriend. James. Not Jamie or Jim or Jimmy.
James
. He’s a senior in pre-med and sounds boring as
hell.”
Maura saw her mother bite her lip to fight back a smile. She
wanted to chide Sage for swearing, especially in front of her grandmother, but
since she did the same all too often, she didn’t feel that she had much
standing.
“Don’t you have any boring boyfriends to talk about?” Mary Ella
asked.
Sage’s expression suddenly grew closed, as it did whenever
Maura asked the same thing. “Oh, you know how it is. I don’t have time for much
of a social life. I’ve got to ace my generals, or I won’t be able to get into
the undergraduate environmental planning program.”
That mysterious squeak sounded again. It was definitely coming
from Sage’s direction. Was it a burp? Maura looked closer, but her daughter
adjusted her arms a little and gave the two of them a casual smile. “Can you
believe Josie is thinking about changing her major again? This will be like her
fourth time.”
“You should be fortunate you’ve always known you wanted to be
an architect,” Mary Ella said.
Sage’s torso suddenly wiggled oddly, and she moved as if
someone had just tickled her ribs.
“All right. What’s going on, Sage?”
Her daughter put on the same innocent face she used to wear
when Maura would walk into her room and find crayon marks on the wall. “What
makes you think something is going on?”
“I don’t know. Either you’ve got an alien inside your coat or a
serious case of indigestion.”
Sage sighed and unzipped her peacoat. A furry little tan face
peeked out cheerfully. “Josie brought a shih tzu puppy home from college. I
guess she got in trouble at school for having it in the dorm and thought she
could convince her parents to keep it here, but they already have three dogs and
don’t want another one.”
“No,” Maura said without hesitation. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on, Mom. Look how adorable this face is. How can you say
no?” Sage lifted the tiny puppy about four inches away from Maura. The animal
looked like an Ewok, cuddly and cute. As she looked into those little black
eyes, the puppy titled its head and stretched its mouth out in what looked
suspiciously like a grin.
Something cold and hard seemed to dislodge inside her. It
scared the hell out of her.
“His name is Puck. Isn’t he precious?”
“Sage. I can’t take on a puppy right now. I don’t have time!
I’m working twelve hours a day here at the store.”
“I’ll do everything while I’m here. There’s really not much,
anyway. He’s almost potty trained.”
She and Mary Ella groaned simultaneously.
Almost potty trained
was often worse than not trained at all.
“I thought maybe he could come to the store with you. I mean,
it’s called Dog-Eared Books & Brew, isn’t it? Don’t you think you should
have
some
kind of canine around the place to live up
to the name?”
“No. Not really.”
“Why not? Claire takes Chester to the bead store with her, and
Evie even uses Jacques for therapy.”
Neither of those dogs was a puppy—or a yippy, hyper little
breed. “No, Sage. This is not a good time to get a dog. You’re going back to
school in a few weeks, and I’m just not ready to take on a pet.”
Her daughter pouted a little, her cheek pressed against the
dog’s. But she had never been one to dwell long on disappointments. “Well, can
we at least keep him until the holidays are over? Josie said she has a friend
back in California who might be able to take him. She thought she could take him
back with her, but I guess her family’s having tons of company over for the
holidays—her dad’s whole family is coming to ski—and her mom said she can’t
handle a puppy in the midst of everything else.”
Maura didn’t know what to say. She hated to disappoint Sage,
but didn’t they have enough strain in their lives right now, with Jack suddenly
bursting back into the picture after all these years?
“I thought, you know, having a cute little dog to keep us
company might be a good distraction for both of us, Mom. Help us not to miss
Layla so much over Christmas.”
She gave a mental groan. Trust Sage to come up with the one
thing Maura couldn’t refuse. It broke her heart to think of Sage trying to
devise a way to ease her mother’s pain and her own at the loss of her
sister.