Six #2
He nodded, and Sam pulled him close and hugged him tight. Kola looked miserable, but he turned and pressed his face into my stomach and leaned.
Sam stood up, took my chin in his hand, and stared down into my eyes. “I’ll be home shortly.”
“Okay,” was all I said.
He looked at Dane, who nodded.
Sam walked away and didn’t turn back around.
Regina tried to take Hannah to hug her goodbye, but she wasn’t having it, as overwrought as she was. So, she ended up hugging me and my daughter together. Thomas embraced us the same way. I waved to Sam’s sisters and Michael, and both Regina and Thomas squeezed Kola.
Once the goodbyes were done, Dane reached down and swept Kola up into his arms, and I saw a man grabbing all our things from the chairs where we had left them.
“Is that your driver, Uncle Dane?” Kola asked him.
“He is today, love.”
Milt stopped me. “Jory, it was great to meet you. This is my card with my email address.”
“Thanks,” I said softly, wrung out all of a sudden.
“You know”—he smiled at Dane—“you and your brother look nothing alike.”
“Oh, no?” Dane glowered at him. “Everyone thinks, but for the hair color, we could be twins.”
“Don’t be an ass,” I said under my breath.
“Come now,” Dane said sharply.
Kola put his head down on his uncle’s shoulder, and I followed my brother out of the hotel. I didn’t look over at Sam.
Kola and Hannah thought that first class was the coolest thing ever.
They had their own video monitors, the flight attendants brought warm cookies and milk, and they got to pick what they wanted for lunch.
They sat in front of Dane and me, and we talked about everything on the way home.
I explained about the witness and what had happened and how there had been a man in our room.
Dane listened and nodded, taking it all in.
I really wasn’t surprised when we weren’t driven home.
The loft in River North was one of Dane’s many investments.
He had places in the Gold Coast area as well, which was considered very trendy and up-and-coming.
Dane bought real estate, fixed it up, sometimes did the interior design himself, and sometimes hired someone.
This one had been done by someone else, as exposed brick, exposed pipes in the ceiling, and all-wood floors were not Dane’s aesthetic.
If you were going for an urban feel, a concrete floor was more him or wrought iron or tile.
It was nice though—two huge bedrooms, two bathrooms, one guest washroom with just a toilet and a sink, an office, a kitchen, a great room, and a sort of reading nook area.
The patio was small but secure with no access other than through the loft.
It was smaller than our house, but still, for me and the kids, enormous.
Chilly was already asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace when we got there.
I groaned and let my head roll sideways to look up at Dane.
“The kids have to share a room, but for the short time you’ll be here, that should not be an issue. Their room is at the back end; you and Sam have the first one closest to the front door. I had most of your clothes brought over, but honestly, who needs that many shoes?”
“This isn’t—”
“There’s a doorman out front and two security guards that check people in and out.
You need to give them a list of who gets access to the apartment.
I gave them Sam’s name already. There are four apartments per floor.
On this one, the eighteenth, you have Mrs. Garcia and her son, Ramon, in 1801; the Patels in 1803; and Gabe Fukushima and his partner, James Garrett, in 1804.
The walls are thick; you shouldn’t hear anyone.
The garbage chute is out the door to your left, and your minivan is on the basement level in stall B44. Any other questions?”
“We’d be fine at home.”
“Next Friday, you plan to have my kids with you, right?”
“Yes.”
He squinted at me. “I don’t feel comfortable with you alone in your house without Sam.
The idea of you putting not only your kids, but mine in danger as well …
Jory, use your head. You lock that front door, and you set the alarm, which is zero-zero-seven-one when you disarm it and zero-zero-seven-two when you arm it.
Then I know you’ll be safe and sound in here. ”
“Double O seven? Really?”
He just looked at me.
“Dane—”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not on my watch. Never. If Sam were there with you, if you weren’t in mortal danger … fine. But someone tried to shoot you and your kids in a hotel. Absolutely not.”
I squinted at him. “Is this why you and Aja moved into that building downtown? Were you worried about your safety in Oak Park?”
“Oh, no, Oak Park is gorgeous and safe. It was just even that small commute to her work and my office and the kids’ school got to be tedious.
This way I can drop them off, Aja can pick them up, and we can both actually make it home to eat dinner together as a family and not have to sit in traffic for an hour, hour and a half. ”
“Did you sell it yet? The Oak Park house?”
“No.” He squinted at me. “Sam asked me not to.”
I was surprised. “Sam asked?”
He grunted. “Yes, he apparently really loves it and the backyard and the front yard and the neighborhood and the whole area. He’s thinking about putting in an offer on it.”
“But?”
“But he doesn’t trust me.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means he thinks I’ll tamper with the appraisal to sell it to him for cheaper than it is.”
“And you would.” I smiled at him.
“I would give it to you if he wasn’t so exasperatingly stubborn.”
“Maybe Aja wouldn’t want you to do that. Her brother and his wife are expecting a child. Maybe he’d like you to give it to—”
“Might I remind you that Alex moved to Delaware?”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“He married a woman from Delaware.”
I growled at him.
“He lives in Delaware now,” he said pointedly, like I was stupid.
“You know what I mean. If Alex had a house here or Candace, maybe they—”
“Candace is a journalist, technically now a foreign correspondent with ABC News. She lives in New York and Paris and—”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“Aja’s parents have no interest in returning to Chicago, even to visit. It’s—I’m quoting her father now—‘stupid cold.’ He’s done bundling up. He loves Palm Beach; he wants to golf and wear Crocs.”
“You’re making that last part up. The man was a judge, for crissakes.”
“I have a picture on my phone if you’d like to see. Aja was mortified and sent it to me on her last visit when I was stuck here for that convention.”
“Oh God.”
“The fact is that you and Sam are who Aja and I have. Aja would love to see you both in our old house and would love to have it be yours. She doesn’t want to sell her baby to strangers, but neither does she want to continue holding on to a property that we have to pay to keep up.”
“And so?”
“So, I’m tampering with the inspection report as we speak.”
“Dane, you can’t do that. He’ll find out.”
“It will take at least six months or longer for him to find out, and by then, we’ll have closed on it, and he’ll be wrapped up in a mortgage he can’t get out of.”
“So, you’re trying to trap Sam into buying the house.”
“Precisely.”
“I could just talk to him.”
“And ruin the surprise and take away his happiness? Would you do that?”
“I really don’t like you right now.”
“I’m well aware.”
I sighed deeply. “So, the kids and I are stuck here until Sam gets back.”
“Yes.”
“Did you bring my laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Kola’s karate gi?”
“I believe that’s in the van.”
I had to think. “Hannah’s Barbie Dreamhouse?”
“Yes.” He smiled at me.
“Chilly’s dishes and his litter box and his toys and his cat tower and—”
“Yes. May I ask why he had stainless steel bowls instead of the kind that feed and water him automatically?”
“Because automatic doesn’t teach kids any responsibility.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And setting the feeder, filling it, this teaches nothing?”
“You know what I mean.”
He grunted and gave me a pat on the arm before he headed for the door.
“You always take care of me. Thank you.”
“That is what family is for.”
I nodded as he reached the front door.
“Come let me out. Remember, when you’re home, when you leave, either or, make sure the alarm is engaged.”
“Yes.”
“At night, before you go to bed—”
“I got it,” I said as I reached him.
“When you’re home, you press the occupied button, and the alarm will shut off for interior movement and only alert you if a door or window is opened.”
“Okay.”
“Again, when you leave, or when––”
“I’ve got it, I swear.”
He squinted at me.
“Oh c’mon, I’m a grown-up and everything.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Tomorrow is Sunday.”
“Announcing the obvious.” I snickered. “You haven’t done that in years.”
“Very droll.”
I shrugged.
“On Tuesday, Aja expects you for dinner and drinks at our place at seven.”
“Why?”
“She’s having a dinner party for her friend, Randall Erickson, who has just moved back into town.”
I studied his face. “Who is he? Old boyfriend?”
Dane scoffed. “No, actually, he’s a friend from college, and I got the feeling he was gay, though I didn’t pry.”
“You wouldn’t let Aja’s exes in your house, would you?”
“Aja does as she pleases; it’s our house, and she invites who she wants.”
“And you wouldn’t care?”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
It made sense that he wouldn’t. Dane did not suffer the normal feelings of inadequacy or have the bouts of uncertainty that most people did.
He knew exactly who he was, knew his pros outweighed his cons, and had been told, on more than one occasion by more than one woman, that if he should ever find himself single again to please, please call.
But I knew Aja, and she and Dane were in it for the long haul.