Читать книгу The Surprise Holiday Dad - Jacqueline Diamond, Lori Copeland, Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 11

Chapter Four

From the parking lot, Fact Hunter Investigations looked much as Wade remembered it, with a few modest upgrades. In the windows of the second-floor office, almond-colored blinds had replaced his grandfather’s gold curtains, while on the street-level door, the firm’s name had been stenciled in a more modern font. The entrance, which led directly to a staircase, was wedged between two other establishments: the Sexy Over Sixty Gym and, where an escrow office used to be, an electronics repair shop.

He recalled that the stairs were steep, with a freight elevator available for the handicapped. However, Grandpa used to say that most clients preferred to conduct business by phone and the internet or to have a detective pay an office or home visit.

Once, the prospect of entering that building as an employee had loomed like a prison sentence. He associated P.I. agencies with retired or partially disabled officers, not young men eager for the challenges of police work. Plus, the idea of being under his grandfather’s thumb would have been enough to send Wade fleeing even had he not already held the position in Pine Tree.

Now Bruce’s ownership was gone, and so was the job up north. Wade had emailed his résumé to Mike Aaron last night and to his surprise had received an immediate response inviting him to drop by for an interview. “Just phone first,” the new co-owner had written.

Wade’s hand went to his pocket, cupping the bulge of his mobile. And missing the weight of his service weapon.

He wasn’t ready to place the call. Instead, he put the car in gear and drove out of the lot, heading south toward the ocean.

Bruce Hunter’s condominium complex occupied bluffs above the harbor. Emerging from his sports coupe, Wade drew in a deep breath of salt air and tilted his face to the autumn sunlight. Seagulls mewed overhead, while below the bluffs traffic hummed along a highway. Less than a quarter mile farther south, boats bobbed at anchor in neat rows extending from a curving wharf. A few sails dotted the waters of the harbor.

He’d missed living near the ocean. While Pine Tree’s mountainous locale had provided a beautiful setting for hiking and exploring, this was Wade’s native habitat. All the same, he was far from certain of his welcome.

Dropping in unannounced might be tempting fate or, more likely, his grandfather’s temper. Wade might even catch the old man in an embarrassing position with this new girlfriend. Wouldn’t that be interesting?

Someone had propped open the gate. Amused to find Grandpa Bruce occupying a complex with such lax security, Wade followed a walkway to the old man’s two-story unit and pressed the bell.

No response. He tried again and still heard nothing stirring. Where would his grandfather be at 10:00 a.m. on a Monday? Wade couldn’t picture Grandpa hanging around a seniors’ center.

From behind a screen of bushes, the thump of rubber-soled shoes reached his ears. Bruce Hunter came into view, sweat darkening his California Angels T-shirt and athletic shorts hanging loose on the old man’s bony frame. Gray hair laced with black clung to his scalp.

He slowed his pace, studying Wade coolly. “Figured you’d drop by sooner or later.” His voice had a dry rasp.

“Daryl told you I was here?”

His grandfather took out his key. “Nope. This is a small town.”

Wade stepped aside, disappointed at losing the element of surprise. As usual, Bruce had the upper hand.

The door opened into a living room almost military in its neatness. The brown couch and tan carpet were freshly vacuumed, while the carved wooden cabinets and chest were buffed to a sheen. They had belonged to Wade’s grandmother, who’d brought them from Germany when she married.

Karlotta Hunter had been buried before he was born, so he knew little of her except that she’d met Bruce while he was stationed in her country and had died when their son was in college. The official story was that she’d awakened late at night, tripped on the staircase, fallen and hit her head. The unofficial story, from Daryl, was that due to her unhappy marriage, she’d taken to drink, which had contributed to the accident.

Alcoholism ran deep in this family. It had skipped Bruce, although he had his own compulsion: chain-smoking. Apparently he’d quit, though, since the place no longer reeked of tobacco.

Wade settled on a polite greeting. “You look well.”

“I look dirty and smell worse.” His grandfather started up the steps. “Help yourself to coffee. There’s no beer.”

At 10:00 a.m.? The old man was assuming the worst, but Wade didn’t bother to correct him. “Thanks.”

He took his coffee black in a souvenir mug from Catalina Island. From a day trip with the girlfriend, perhaps? Over the buffet in the dining room, Wade studied the array of framed photos, hoping for a glimpse of the new lady, but these were all familiar faces.

Grandma Karlotta had sad eyes and old-fashioned braids wrapped around her head. A young black-haired Bruce stood stiffly erect in his blue dress marine uniform. Daryl at about the same age sported a combat utility uniform, better known as camouflage. At his college graduation, Wade posed in mortarboard and gown. There was no picture of Wade’s mother.

Upstairs the shower ran for about a minute, followed by a brief fit of coughing. It ended quickly and sounded less alarming than in the old days.

Bruce descended within minutes, his pants and shirt pressed, his hair slick. “Guess you’ve got some news for me,” he said without preamble.

How much had he heard via the grapevine? “About my son?” Wade asked.

The old man’s nostrils flared. “The one you abandoned.”

How typical of him to state that as fact rather than a question. “No, I didn’t. His mother threatened to file false abuse charges. She was...troubled.” Wade saw no reason to go into detail. “I’ve been paying child support.”

Bruce’s scowl eased. “Glad to hear you aren’t a deadbeat.”

And I’d have appreciated your not assuming the worst. Wade hadn’t come here to fight, however. “I figured you might like to meet your great-grandson once I get visitation squared away with his aunt.”

“His aunt?” From the refrigerator, Bruce took out a glass bottle of orange juice. “You’re his father. Don’t be a weakling. Take your son and tell her to get lost.”

Wade hung on to his temper. “I’ll handle this my way.”

“Suit yourself.” Bruce poured juice into a glass. “Yeah, I’d like to meet the little guy, whenever this aunt snaps her fingers and gives you permission.”

“I’m here to make peace, but that isn’t going to happen if you keep insulting me.” Wade poured the remaining half of his coffee in the sink. It was decaf anyway.

Avoiding his gaze, his grandfather peered at a framed California Angels team photo on the wall. It bore half a dozen signatures from the players. “You tossed off a few insults of your own the last time we met.”

Had he? “Such as?”

“Called me a rent-a-cop, for one thing,” Bruce snarled.

“Sorry about that.” Wade had lashed out in the heat of the moment.

“Your apology is too late.” Resentment that must have been festering all this time blazed from his grandfather’s face. “I had to sell the agency I spent years building because my son’s a drunk and my grandson holds me in contempt.”

Behind the anger, Wade sensed the hurt. “I don’t hold you in contempt. And you never told me the future of the agency was on the line.”

“I shouldn’t have had to.”

“I’m not a mind reader,” Wade said. “Now I’d like to let bygones be bygones.”

“Why? Because you need a job?” Bruce fired back. “Guess you’re not too proud to be a rent-a-cop now.”

“Guess I’m not.”

That stopped his grandfather. “You’re applying there?”

“Already have,” Wade said.

They faced each other across the kitchen. If he’d thought it would do any good, Wade would have repeated that he hoped they could reconcile, but he should have known better. He’d tried to smooth things over before and it hadn’t worked then, either.

After their argument he’d sent his grandfather Christmas cards despite receiving none in return. Then last December his card had come back with Bruce’s address crossed out and the handwritten notation “Don’t know him and don’t want to.”

Some people liked to hold a grudge. Don’t be one of them, Wade told himself, and took the plunge. “I was thinking that you, me and Reggie could see a baseball game sometime.”

“Maybe.” If Bruce longed to meet the boy—which he probably did—he disguised it well. “Do me a favor, will you?”

“What’s that?”

“Since you wouldn’t stoop to work at the agency when I owned it, don’t insult me by doing it now just because you got fired.”

“Laid off,” Wade corrected.

“Whatever, as you young people like to say.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.” If he stayed here any longer, Wade might lose his temper the way he had during their last meeting. “See you around, Grandpa. Thanks for the coffee.”

“See you.” Bruce walked him to the front. From the corner of his eye, Wade saw his grandfather watching as he rounded the side of the building.

At Fact Hunter Investigations, Wade reflected, he had an excellent shot at a suitable position that would allow him to stay near Reggie. Despite the old man’s request, it seemed unlikely that passing it up would do any good. More likely, his grandpa would see compliance as a weakness.

You couldn’t please him, so why try? On his cell phone, Wade pressed Mike Aaron’s number.

* * *

SEATED IN THE attorney’s waiting room, Adrienne glanced irritably at her watch. Wade was ten minutes late, and she had to be home in an hour to meet Reggie’s school bus.

Doubts and speculation were driving her crazy. In her medical practice, she was accustomed to dealing with uncertainty. Patient outcomes couldn’t always be predicted, and in surgery she had to change tactics instantly if complications developed.

Yet she’d lain awake last night, struggling with the unknowns about Reggie’s father. Would he break his son’s heart by playing the doting daddy until he got bored? Or would he demand full custody, ignoring Reggie’s attachment to Adrienne? In either case, what about Reggie’s rights to the house and its contents?

The man was no knuckle-dragging Neanderthal, Adrienne conceded. But she’d grown up with a bipolar father whose mood swings had kept the household teetering on the brink between his warm, expansive side and his abrupt withdrawals. Her sister had been equally unpredictable. There was no telling how many sides Wade Hunter had or which would emerge today.

Then she saw him through the blinds, cutting across the parking lot. He was carrying... Were those flowers?

She barely had time to rise and smooth her powder-blue dress before he blew into the room on a crisp breeze. Wearing a dark suit, with a trace of early gray at the temples, he had a distinguished air offset by the apologetic gleam in his eyes.

He regarded her appreciatively. “I like your hair down. That’s a good color on you, too.”

Adrienne rarely wore dresses and usually put her hair in a twist or ponytail. Nervous about this meeting, she’d taken extra care today. “Thanks. Listen...”

“I didn’t mean to be late.” Wade held out a decorative pot containing a yellow miniature rose. With shiny green leaves and copious buds, it would fit perfectly into her front bed. “Just landed a job, and on my way from the interview, I passed a flower shop. It occurred to me that a peace offering might be appropriate.”

“I love miniature roses. Thank you.” A peace offering—better than hostility, in Adrienne’s opinion. Then the rest of his statement registered. “You’re going to work at the police department?”

“Private agency. Fact Hunter.”

“Congratulations.” Clearly, Wade didn’t plan to leave town soon. That might be good...or not. It meant less of a likelihood that her little boy would be carted away to some distant place, yet having his father living nearby was far from ideal.

The inner door opened. Geoff Humphreys emerged, greeting Adrienne before turning to the new arrival. “Mr. Hunter? Pleased to meet you in person.”

“Me, too.”

After shaking hands, they went into the comfortably appointed office. “Did I hear you say you found a job at Fact Hunter?” the attorney asked.

“Founded by my grandfather, although if there’s an opposite to nepotism, that’s what I have.” In an upholstered chair, Wade sat straight with legs slightly apart, as if accustomed to a heavy equipment belt. Adrienne had seen Patty sit the same way.

“Mike Aaron owns it now, doesn’t he?” Geoff didn’t explain how he knew that.

Wade tilted his head in acknowledgment. “That’s right.”

“Mike’s wife is a colleague of mine,” Adrienne put in. “Dr. Paige Brennan.”

Wade blinked. “A cop and a doctor? That’s an unusual combination.”

“It’s not uncommon around here. Patty’s married to an embryologist, Alec Denny, although he’s a Ph.D., not an M.D.” In case that sounded snobbish, she added, “As Alec keeps reminding everyone.”

“What about this brother of Mike Aaron’s?” Wade said. “Ever meet him? I like to know who I’m working for.”

“Lock’s a good guy,” Adrienne told him. “He married a surgical nurse, Erica. They have a little boy—almost a year old.”

“Does this town put something in the water?” he asked. “Seems like everybody’s getting married and having kids.”

“We’re a friendly bunch.” Despite her attempt at a light tone, Adrienne felt an all-too-familiar tensing in the gut at the reminder that she would never be so lucky. She was grateful when Geoff cleared his throat, drawing their attention to the topic at hand.

“While I realize you’re just getting acquainted, we should discuss a parenting plan,” he said. “That describes how parents will handle a variety of practical matters in their child’s life. It prevents misunderstandings and minimizes conflict.”

“We could all use more of that,” Wade muttered as Geoff handed out printed sheets. “Minimizing conflict, I mean.”

Adrienne scanned the list. Although she appreciated order, she found it daunting. It called for plans regarding visitation, both regular and for vacations and holidays, instructions as to dietary requirements and internet use, details of how to handle contact with extended family members and parents’ dating partners, and numerous other issues. “Is this really necessary?”

“It will be eventually,” Geoff said. “We don’t have to carve anything in stone right now.”

“This visitation business,” Wade put in. “I don’t know my work schedule yet.”

“I can imagine your hours might be somewhat irregular,” the lawyer noted. “Perhaps you’d be willing to stipulate that you accept Dr. Cavill’s current babysitting arrangements.”

Adrienne could see Wade’s muscles tightening. “Is that a problem for you?” she asked him.

“I haven’t met the babysitter yet.”

How dare he question her choices? Adrienne gripped the pot in her lap. Peace offering or not, she was tempted to chuck it at Wade’s head.

Yet as Geoff had warned earlier, antagonizing the man was likely to backfire. She’d done research on the internet, hoping to find that Vicki’s will and Adrienne’s longtime care of Reggie put her in the driver’s seat. To her dismay, the articles she’d read had confirmed that Wade’s rights took precedence over hers.

She’d been shocked to discover that in California and many other states, even rapists could sue for child custody and/or visitation. Considering that Wade was the injured party here due to Vicki’s threats toward him, what chance was there that a court would side with Adrienne?

That didn’t mean she was giving up on maintaining primary custody. But she’d have to win over Wade with diplomacy, not temper tantrums.

“You should consider living arrangements,” Geoff persisted. “What about overnight visitation, for instance?”

“I’m sleeping on my father’s couch, so I can hardly take Reggie home with me.” Wade shook his head. “I’m not ready to work out a parenting plan. It sounds like a good idea for later, though.”

“I don’t mind if we play this by ear for a while.” In time, Adrienne thought, Wade might accept that staying with her was in his son’s best interest.

“To a certain extent, that may be necessary,” the lawyer said. “However—”

“What about this business of supervised visits?” Wade pressed. “I don’t see why I can’t spend time alone with my son.”

The attorney frowned. “You are a stranger to him.”

Wade leaned forward, storm clouds gathering in his expression. This could blow up in her face, Adrienne realized. Besides, she’d already considered the matter, so why quarrel about it?

She raised her hand in a stop gesture. “It’s fine with me if Wade wants to have private time with Reggie tomorrow evening. My office hours start at six, and he’s looking forward to assembling that toy police station with his dad.”

As she spoke, Wade nodded. It felt almost as if they were on the same side.

“Toy police station? Did I miss something?” Geoff asked.

She explained about Wade stopping by the birthday party. “They aren’t strangers anymore. I’m comfortable with an unsupervised visit. I’m sure my nephew will be fine.”

Wade’s pleased expression lasted only seconds before he broached another subject. “That sounds good, but won’t you be at the hospital all night? Does that mean I should sleep over?”

Adrienne hadn’t thought of that possibility and didn’t care for it. “His regular sitter, Mary Beth Ellroy, and her family are planning a celebration for Reggie—cake and a few small presents. If you could drop him off at her house around eight, that would be great. That’ll give you a chance to meet them, too.”