Chapter 10
The Saturday lunch crowd had mostly left by one thirty when the hostess led Savannah and Simon to a table at Mac’s Irish Pub.
Simon paused to gawk at the dollar bills attached to the wall and pointed out pictures of celebrities. Watching his interest
in every new experience was almost enough to push away her worry about the danger from Hornbrook. Would he target Hez with
a bomb like he did Jess? Or had Hez been the target that time too?
She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms as she glanced around the dining room for bearded, dark-haired men, then shook off the
notion. The guy could have shaved or dyed his hair. And besides, God had a plan and living in fear wasn’t an option. A server
carried a tray of food past, and the aroma of shepherd’s pie and Reuben sandwiches wafted in her wake.
Simon’s gaze followed the tray as he got settled on the bench against the wall. “I want one of those bussin’ Reubens. I haven’t
had one since Fairhurst.”
He seldom mentioned his disastrous years at the London boarding school where Jess had kept him hidden. “I think this will be your new favorite place. I’ll order one for your uncle Hez too. He’ll be here once he finishes at the Justice Chamber clinic.”
“Can I have root beer too?”
“Wouldn’t you rather have milk or apple juice? Those would be healthier.”
A calculating expression came into Simon’s eyes. “If I have apple juice, can I get dessert?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again when a familiar profile caught her attention. Michael sat at a table by the window.
She was tempted to rush out before Simon saw him but gave a slight shake of her head and lifted her menu. Michael might intimidate
the school, but she refused to let him do the same to her. “Let’s see if you’re still hungry after your Reuben.”
The server appeared with two root beer floats on her tray. “The gentleman by the window sent these over for you.” She set
one in front of each of them.
Michael twisted their way and lifted his hand in greeting. There was no way out of acknowledging him, so Savannah nodded stiffly.
Simon was eyeing the root beer float in front of him and hadn’t noticed his grandfather yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Michael’s voice boomed out before he reached them. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite grandson.”
Simon turned and his eyes widened. “Pawpaw!”
“Mind if I join you for a minute?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled out the only empty chair and settled in it. “I’ll
bet you’ve never had a float as good as Mac makes them.”
The adoration on Simon’s face turned Savannah’s stomach almost as much as the thought of eating the treat his grandfather had paid for.
She’d resolved to find out more about his relationship with her mother, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of twisting things in his favor.
Jess had gotten her blonde hair from him, though his was going gray at the temples now.
The man’s resemblance to Jess was likely one reason Simon had so quickly fallen under his spell.
Michael leaned back in his chair and smiled at the boy. “Are you excited at the thought of going to live with your father?”
Savannah’s pulse stuttered, and she barely managed to bite back a gasp. “He’s not going to live with his father.” How had
Michael heard about it? She hadn’t even told Nora.
“What are you talking about?” Simon glanced from his grandfather to Savannah. “What’s going on, Aunt Savannah? I thought maybe
my dad was dead or in jail. Is he looking for me?”
The hope in his voice broke her heart. She’d assumed his father’s behavior had destroyed Simon’s yearning to know him. “I
don’t know where he is, Simon. His attorney has shown up with a custody demand from him. Your uncle Hez and I have retained
a family lawyer and don’t intend to let you go. Your mother wanted us to take care of you.”
Michael raised a brow. “You don’t want him? You’re just honoring Jess’s wishes?”
“Of course not! Hez and I love Simon dearly. He belongs with us and we belong with him.” What was she doing answering this
obnoxious man? She turned her attention to Simon. “You know we love you, don’t you?”
He gave an uncertain nod, but his attention went back to his grandfather.
Savannah bit her lip. Michael’s influence on the boy was already more profound than she’d expected. A couple of hours with Michael and Simon idolized him. How had that happened?
Michael shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like love to me when you hide things from the boy, Savannah. You’re not telling
him the truth. I’m sure that attorney you hired has already told you Erik will get custody. The court won’t take into consideration
he’s good for nothing and only wants the boy for Jess’s money.”
She winced and her jaw tightened. Simon didn’t need to hear this kind of talk about his father. “We’re determined to find
a way to keep Simon with us.” She spotted Hez coming their way, and hope surged through her. He’d know how to refute Michael’s
description of the custody case.
Hez’s eyes widened when he spotted Michael. His long legs ate up the distance between them, and he stopped at Michael’s chair.
“I think you’re in my chair. I want you to leave my family alone.”
Michael lazily got up but didn’t back away. “I could say the same thing to you, Webster. Simon is my blood. You two are going
to let Erik have Simon, but his pawpaw isn’t.”
Savannah locked gazes with Hez, and dread curled in her belly. What did Michael plan to do?
Michael pulled into Erik Andersen’s driveway, parking his truck less than six inches from the rear bumper of Erik’s Mercedes.
He didn’t want Erik trying to leave before they were done.
Michael got out and walked to the door of the single-story home. Mossy oak trees shaded the house and rustled in the gentle breeze. It was a quiet, peaceful scene.
He rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. Could Erik have tried to flee on foot out the back door? That would be foolish—but
then, Erik was a fool. Michael frowned.
Michael rang the bell again, then knocked hard. The door finally opened. Erik stood in the entrance, little lines of annoyance
creasing the tan skin around his mouth and blue eyes. He stood a few inches taller than Michael’s five-foot-eleven and still
had the broad shoulders and thick blond hair that caught Jess’s eye when she was a student at TGU, but Erik had started to
go to seed in the decade since his engagement to Jess ended.
“Hi, Mike. It’s been a long time,” Erik said in a voice that indicated it hadn’t been long enough.
“Mind if I come in?”
“Well, I’m in the middle of grading student projects, so—”
“This is more important.” Michael pushed past the bigger man. Erik tensed for an instant, but he didn’t resist.
Michael walked into Erik’s living room. It had hardwood floors, an antique desk, dark leather furniture, a glass-and-brass
coffee table, and framed photos of Erik in front of European landmarks. A bright pink backpack sat on the love seat. Michael
picked it up and read the nametag. “Kaitlyn Wilson! Come on out.”
A young woman with mussed hair and round eyes appeared in the hallway on the far side of the living room. She appeared to
be in her early twenties—about the same age Jess had been. Disgust roiled in Michael’s stomach. He turned to Erik. “You were
grading student projects, right? What grade do you give her?”
Erik’s face reddened and his muscular arms flexed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out, Professor.” Michael’s voice made the last word an insult. He turned back to Kaitlyn and held out her backpack.
“You need to leave, honey.”
Erik reached for the backpack. “I’ll drive her back to campus. I’ll call you to arrange a more reasonable time and place to
discuss whatever brought you here.”
Michael took a step toward him. “Call her an Uber. You’re not going anywhere.”
Erik seemed about to object, but he stopped short when he saw Michael’s expression. “Go ahead, Kaitlyn. I’ll pay you back.”
The girl’s gaze darted back and forth between the two men for an instant. Then she hurried forward, grabbed her backpack,
and vanished out the door.
Erik crossed his arms. “Okay, Mike. What’s so important?”
“My grandson.”
Erik raised his brows. “You mean my son?”
“For the moment.” Michael walked over to the love seat and sat, forcing Erik to follow. “That’s what I’m here to discuss.”
Erik sat on the edge of the sofa. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Look, you don’t really want Simon. He’d interfere with your ‘student projects,’ for one thing. I do want him, so I’ll adopt
him and you’ll consent to the adoption.”
A crafty smile lifted Erik’s face. “You’re not the only one who wants him. His aunt and uncle already filed an adoption petition.
How do you know I won’t consent to theirs?”
Michael had expected—even counted on—Erik’s willingness to bargain away his own son, but it still made him want to punch the guy in the face. Simon deserved a better father figure—and Michael would give him one. “Because that wouldn’t be in Simon’s best interests—or yours.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ll pay you a hundred thousand dollars for your consent.”
Erik scoffed. “It’s worth a lot more than that. The kid has a trust fund worth millions.”
Michael’s opinion of Erik reached a new low. “You’re going to skim off your son’s trust fund? Seriously?”
Erik shrugged beefy shoulders. “I’d make sure it was used to provide a high quality of life for Simon. That would also mean
a high quality of life for me, of course.”
Michael gripped the arm of the love seat. “Your quality of life? You should be worried more about your quantity of life.”
Erik turned pale beneath his tan, but he said nothing.
Michael took a pen and a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket and set them on the coffee table in front of Erik.
“You know what? I’ll sweeten the deal for you. Sign the consent now and you not only get one hundred thousand dollars. You
also get my personal promise not to take you into the swamp, stake you to the ground, and leave you for the gators and rats
like you deserve.”
Beads of sweat appeared on Erik’s forehead. Michael could almost read his thoughts. The man was a coward. He’d run away last
year because he was afraid of TGU’s late provost, Beckett Harrison. Beckett was dead because he’d crossed the Willard clan.
Would Erik stand up to the head of that clan? Of course not. He couldn’t run, so he’d roll over like a scared puppy in front
of a junkyard dog.
Erik licked his lips and signed the consent with shaking hands.