Seven
Iwas surprised when my phone rang early the following morning and even more surprised to find that Shane McGill, Fallon Strauss’s boyfriend, was on the other end, inviting me out to lunch.
“I want to apologize for how I acted the other night, Jory, so if you would … could you meet me?”
“I would love that.”
And it wasn’t that we were going to be best friends, but he wanted to know me because he knew Fallon was going to be spending a lot of time with me, and he knew, too, that making it impossible for his boyfriend to mesh his work life and his private life would be dangerous for the relationship.
At lunch, he said, “I want to share everything with Fallon.”
I sighed deeply. “He has no idea how lucky he is.”
“How do you mean?”
When I was all done explaining about being the husband of a detective, away on a task force, working undercover for the last four months, Shane’s eyes were huge, and there was no more jealousy there, only sympathy.
Later that afternoon, Fallon called me and told me he was so thankful that I had been receptive to Shane’s overture.
“Of course,” I told him. “I want us to be partners, and that means Shane too.”
“I feel so much better.”
And so did I. When I got off the phone with him, back on track for dinner on Saturday, I felt lighter.
It was nice that Shane had made the effort for the man he loved; it was refreshing.
I was surprised when I turned down my block to see the same Rolls-Royce Phantom from the night before.
As I closed in on it, Hayes Fisher got out.
“Hey.” I smiled and jogged over to the car.
“You gotta have dinner with me tonight,” he told me, almost frantic.
“Why?”
“Because it’s my mother’s birthday, and if I don’t show up at my brother, Dave’s, house to celebrate with them, my father and everyone else will never forgive me, and I need a buddy to go with me and not take a date, and just come with me,” he ended with a rush.
I was confused.
“What?”
“Take a date.”
“I don’t have one, and going on a first date to your mother’s birthday party in your brother’s home is awkward.”
“So, take one of your buddies.”
“I don’t want to. I need someone they’ve never met so they focus on getting to know you and don’t ask me questions.”
I squinted at him. “Why don’t you wanna answer questions?”
“Just come on and get in the car.”
“Tell me.”
“I—Jory, there are things you don’t know about my divorce.”
“Like what?”
“Why do you care?”
“Why does it have to be me who goes?”
He stared at me.
I waited.
“I just—you’re not afraid of pissing me off, and you speak your mind, and no one’s given me so much crap in years.”
“Why is that good?”
“It’s different.”
“So, you want a friend who gives you shit.”
He sighed. “I want a friend who is a friend and not somebody who wants to be my friend because I’m Hayes Fisher, heir to Fisher Ryson.”
“I’ve never heard of Fisher Ryson.”
“That’s the parent company, Jory. The companies you’ve heard of are too many to list.”
“So, you’re rich.”
“Yep.”
“Like, very?”
“Like, very.”
“So, why do you own that shitty house, then? Why not buy a mansion in Highland Park?”
“It’s not a shitty house, and I happen to love Oak Park!”
“Why’re you yelling at me?”
“I don’t know,” he said, exhaling sharply. “I think because I want you to like the house in Oak Park.”
“What does it matter?”
“I have no idea.”
“Are you all right?”
He seemed frantic.
“Will you just get in the car?”
“It’s only two in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, and my brother lives in Lake Forest, and I still have to get my mother a gift.” He was exasperated. “So, can we go?”
“I’m not dressed for a party.”
“You look great. Corduroys and a sweater and the leather jacket—you’re good. Let’s just go.”
“Don’t you have a house to renovate?”
“Are you going to help me out or not?”
Of course I was.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, let’s go to your mother’s birthday party.”
Once we were inside the car, he turned to look at me. I smiled at him.
“Spit it out.”
“No one has ever talked to me the way you talked to me that day at my house, Jory. When I was younger, no one was allowed to, and now, no one wants to be parted from my wallet.”
I processed that. “So, what, are we buying your mother a castle?”
His smile made his pale blue eyes glint. “No, she likes special things, not extravagant. She likes it when people really think of her.”
“I see.”
“You have a thought?”
“I do.”
The house in Lake Forest was enormous, with a circular cobblestone drive and manicured grounds. There were tennis courts and stables and, like, a heated ten-car garage. Amazing.
We’d had to take a helicopter there, which was fun. I enjoyed the turbulence that made Hayes green, and once we were clear of the blades, I turned back to wave at Alaric, who was a driver and a helicopter pilot, and then followed Hayes toward the house.
“How cool is it that your driver can drive anything? Can he drive a tank too?”
“Why did your mind go to tank?” he asked me, sounding pained.
“I just figured since you’re rich, you probably have a private army somewhere in the world.”
He shook his head as he led me toward the house.
Once inside, I realized the place was a zoo.
His mother’s party was easily forty people big.
But it was an adult party, so when Hayes stepped away from me, telling me to wait, I went back to where I had spied the kids when we walked by them.
They were on the other side of the great room—a boy on one couch, a little girl on the other.
It was a huge room, so it felt like they were in a completely different area from where the adults were gathered.
“Hey,” the little boy said to me, all cocky bravado. He was modeling his snarky attitude after someone.
“Hey,” I greeted him, turning to enter their area, drawn by the game they were playing on PlayStation 2, by the milk and cookies, and the newspaper. “What’re you guys doing?”
He rolled his eyes in the way only a little boy could—so bored, unable to suffer fools, even at such an age.
“My mom’s late, and my dad couldn’t get a babysitter, so we had to come to Grandma’s stupid party.
And now Dad’s gotta talk to everybody and keep checking on us …
and the man with my dad blew off Becca, and she’s all sad. But who cares anyway?”
He did, obviously.
“It’s just that Becca’s sad.”
Second time he’d said it, so I understood this was bothering him the most.
I turned and looked at the little girl and saw she had the prettiest olive-green eyes I had ever seen. Her chestnut curls were cut short in a pixie, so all you saw was a tiny face that was now a study in sadness.
“What happened, bunny?” I asked as I knelt down beside her.
Her eyes absorbed me. “The man said he would make a hat, but when Daddy came back, he didn’t want to stay, and he went with him ’cause he likes him better, and I asked Daddy to make the hat, but he has to talk to Grandma and Grandpa and everybody else, and Scotty doesn’t know how.”
Scott was clearly her brother, the snarly thing sitting with her.
“Nobody can help me, and Mommy’s late.”
I nodded, sitting down beside the table. “Well, I can definitely make hats, but I can make frogs, too, and swans,” I said, drawing out the last word. “You wanna see?”
She was maybe five, and so because of that, she was beside me so fast that you would have thought I was covered in frosting or something. Ten minutes later, the boy was on the floor with his sister, Becca, and me, both of them in newspaper hats.
“Can you make airplanes or what?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said, equaling his snarky tone. “Better than anything you can make.”
“I doubt it.”
“Wanna bet?” I sassed him back.
“I’ll bet you a million dollars.”
I arched an eyebrow at him, and miracle of miracles, he smiled.
Same chestnut curls as his sister, but his eyes were hazel, not green.
They were both beautiful, and even though the little boy was trying not to like me, he was having a hard time.
When I made the airplane sail from one end of the room to the other, he was impressed.
“Holy cow.” His eyes were wide. “That was awesome.”
“See,” I said, eating an Oreo, “told you.”
“I’m Scott,” he said with a smile, edging closer to me. “And that’s my sister, Becca.”
I had collected that information previously, but it was nice that he was actually telling me. It was progress. “I’m Jory.”
“Jory’s a cool name.” He nodded his approval. “It’s a cowboy name.”
“Thanks.” I smiled back.
Becca was in my lap, so she tilted her head back and kissed my chin.
Me and women, no matter the age, it was a given.
She got more comfortable, nestling against me as Scott called out for me to look at him as he sailed the airplane toward the sliding glass doors.
When I looked up, I became aware of the man towering over me.
“Dad, look at this!”
He was staring at the little girl in my lap, and as hard as he tried to tear his eyes from her, he could not.
“Dad!”
Finally, he wrenched his gaze away and watched the airplane float across the room on an unseen breeze for seconds before his gaze was once again on his girl.
“Hi, Dad.” She smiled up at him, her fingers once again, for the hundredth time in the last hour, on my face.
He swallowed hard, his breath catching. “Hi, baby.”
Instead of going to her father, she leaned tighter against me, and I felt her fingers fiddling with the collar of my sweater before she turned in my lap to face me.
“Jory.”
I grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am?”
Her fingers were now messing with the collar of the dress shirt I had on under the sweater. “I’m hungry.”
I turned to look back up at her father. “She’s hungry.”
He nodded fast and knelt down beside me, his hand on my shoulder as he looked into my eyes. “I’m David. David Fisher. Who are you?”
“Jory Harcourt. I came with Hayes.”
He nodded, emerald eyes locked on mine as his hand, which he hadn’t withdrawn, slid higher on my shoulder, fingers grazing the side of my neck. “I hope my kids weren’t—”