Читать книгу Storybook Dad - Laura Bradford - Страница 9

Emily pressed the intercom button on the side of her phone, working to make her voice sound casual and upbeat. “Trish? Any sign of Mr. Reynolds and his son yet?”

“Still nothing, boss.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” She pulled her finger back, only to shove it forward once again. “Um, Trish?”

“Yeah, boss.”

“My next class is at noon, right?” She glanced at the clock on the wall and noted the rapidly approaching hour.

“Noon it is.”

Her shoulders sank along with the tone of her voice. “Okay. Thanks.”

With her connection to her assistant broken, Emily pushed back her chair and stood, the enthusiasm that had marked the start of her day giving way to a serious case of unease.

Granted, she didn’t know Mark Reynolds all that well. How could she when they’d met just a measly twenty-six hours earlier? But no matter how hard she tried to pin his failure to show up for their first rock-climbing adventure on something as trivial as forgetfulness, she couldn’t.

Especially when it had meant so much to his son.

“Seth,” she whispered. That was it. Something must have come up with the little boy to cancel their outing and prevent Mark from calling to let her know. It was the only explanation that made any sense.

Perhaps the child was in bed with the flu, or a tummy ache from eating too much pizza the night before. Maybe he’d fallen on the way out to the car that morning and broken his arm, or something crazy like that. Or maybe he’d had a rough night without his mom, and Mark felt it was more important for the little guy to get some rest.

Emily knew it was silly to be so worried about a child she’d just met, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something special about Seth, something innocent and pure that spoke to her heart as nothing else had in years.

The fact that he’d been through so much in such a short period of time only served to bolster her gut feeling that Mark wouldn’t deny Seth an opportunity to make a new memory unless something fairly serious had intervened.

Her worry at an all-time high, Emily sank back into her desk chair and opened the top drawer. There, where she’d left it, was the card she couldn’t get out of her hands fast enough the day before.

Mark Reynolds

Field Worker

Folks Helping Folks Foundation

555-555-5555

Inhaling deeply, she reached for the phone and punched in the number, the final digit quickly followed by a ring that led straight to a nondescript voice mail. When the recording completed its request for her name, number and reason for calling, she obliged, her voice a poor disguise for the worry she wasn’t terribly adept at hiding.

“Urn … hi. Uh, it’s Emily. Emily Todd. From yesterday? At Bucket List 101 … and, um, the pizza place?” Realizing she sounded like an idiot, she got to the point, the disappointment she felt over having to wait for a response undeniable. “I got your number from your business card. Could you please give me a call when you get this? Thanks.”

She reeled off her phone number, returned the handset to its cradle and then dropped her head into her hands. She’d done everything she could, short of driving back and forth across town trying to guess where Mark and Seth Reynolds lived. All she could do now was wait.

And pray that the images continuing to loop through her thoughts were the by-product of an overactive imagination rather than a spot-on radar that made absolutely no sense where a virtual stranger and his son were concerned.

MARK CROUCHED DOWN beside Laurie’s desk and placed a gentle yet firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Now remember what I told you, little man. Miss Laurie has work to do. So it’s super important that you sit in this nice seat right here and keep yourself busy, okay?”

Seth nodded.

“And as for me? I’ll be in that conference room right there—” he pointed toward the open door just beyond the secretary’s desk “—if you have an emergency. But since I just took you to the bathroom, and I’ll only be in my meeting for about a half hour, you should be good on that front, right?”

“I’ll be good,” Seth whispered. “I promise.”

Mark reached for the backpack he’d placed beside the chair and unzipped the center compartment to reveal a plethora of activities designed to make the wait as easy on his son—and Laurie—as possible. “I packed your favorite picture books, along with a Mr. Spaceman coloring book I managed to score while you were napping at Gam’s this afternoon.”

At Seth’s silence, he reached inside and extracted the new book, flipping it open to reveal page after page of all things space related. “Isn’t this the coolest coloring book ever?”

A search of his son’s face failed to net the enthusiasm Mark was hoping to see. Disappointed, he tried a different tactic. “If you get hungry, there’s an extra yummy cherry lollipop in the front pocket of your backpack that’s got your name all over it. Sound good?”

Seth’s automatic nod stopped midway as his unusually dull eyes locked on Mark’s. “Daddy? I really would’ve been a good listener for Emily.”

Mark raked a hand down his face before clasping his son’s shoulder. “My decision against taking you rock climbing this morning wasn’t about listening, little man. It was about keeping you safe.”

It was a decision he still felt was right even now, some seven hours later. Any residual angst over the whole thing had more to do with his failure to call and cancel their private lesson than anything else.

“Mark? They’re ready to start.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the woman in her sixties situated behind the gray metal desk. “Thanks, Laurie.” Then, turning back to his son, he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Maybe we can get some ice cream when this is over. How’s that sound?”

Seth shrugged. “We have to eat dinner first, Daddy.”

Mark didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the solemn response more befitting an adult than a four-and-a-half-year-old boy. It made sense, considering everything Seth had been through the past year, but it made Mark all the more protective of his son’s childhood.

“Maybe we can make an exception this one time.” He brushed a kiss across Seth’s head and then stood, his trip to the conference room requiring little more than a stride or two. When he reached the door, he took one last peek at his son, who was still standing in the middle of the foundation’s reception area.

“We’ll be fine,” Laurie assured him. “Now go. The sooner you get in, the sooner you’ll be out.”

“Thanks, Laurie.”

“My pleasure.” She swiveled her chair to her computer screen, only to turn back just before he disappeared completely. “Oh, and Mark? A call from a potential client came in for you today. I gave the details to Stan.”

“I’ll make sure to ask him about it after the meeting.” He stepped inside the room and took the empty chair indicated by Stan Wiley, board president of the Folks Helping Folks Foundation. An all-around good guy, Stan made volunteering with the organization a pleasant experience. Stan had gotten involved with the foundation for reasons not dissimilar from Mark’s. Regret was a powerful motivator.

“I certainly appreciate everyone coming in on such short notice for a meeting that wasn’t on your agenda,” Stan began. “But as I told each of you on the phone, it really couldn’t be avoided. Not if we want the foundation to be the recipient of a quarter of a million dollars.”

A collective gasp rose up around the table.

Stan laughed. “See? I told you this was a meeting worth having.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

“That’s incredible.”

Mark listened to the sentiments of his fellow volunteers, nodding along with each before adding his own. “That sure is going to open up a lot of possibilities for our clients.”