Chapter Three
“I just don’t understand what you’re so afraid of,” Gwen said.
She sipped her coffee as she stared at her husband across the counter of her shop Les Trois Magots.
Sam took a deep breath. “We’ve talked about this before.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, it’s almost ten. I’ve gotta get back to the station.”
Gwen scowled. She stepped behind the display case and pulled out a muffin and a ham and cheese croissant sandwich and stuffed them into a bag. “Here. For later.”
“Thank you.”
As Sam leaned in for a kiss, Gwen pulled back. “You have to at least invite Declan. It’s already Wednesday and the weekend is coming up fast. He’s grown-up enough to decide if he wants to come or not.”
Sam looked down at the floor.
She was not going to give up on this. “You honestly think that your son is afraid of being around a few ancient homophobic cops?”
“Be careful who you’re calling ancient. I’m the one who’s retiring,” Sam replied.
“You know what I mean.”
Sam shifted, and leaned against the wall. “Gwen, some of those cops made his life a living hell.”
“And he stood up for himself. Anyway, that was a long time ago. How many of those louts are still in your division?”
He closed his eyes. “Enough to make things uncomfortable.”
“For Declan, or for you?” she asked, crossing her arms.
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand. I’m just trying to do what’s best for everyone.”
Sam had barely finished the sentence, when the front door of the café opened and Charlie and Declan walked in.
“Speak of the devil,” Gwen said. “What can I get you boys on this fine Wednesday morning?”
“Just the usual coffees please, Gwen,” Charlie said. “And good morning to you, Sergeant Hunt.”
“Charlie.” Sam nodded. “Declan.”
“Sarge,” Declan answered coolly.
Gwen started to make two coffees. “Funny that you should walk in right now. Your father and I were just talking about something he wants to ask you. Isn’t that right, Sam?”
Sam grunted and shot her a look like he’d just consumed a large cup of sour milk, but didn’t say anything more.
Gwen shook her head in exasperation. “You Hunt men are so stubborn. All right, if you won’t ask, then I will. It’s about his retirement party.”
Declan sat on a chair by the door. “Retirement? That’s news to me. You’re stepping down from the force?”
Sam cleared his throat, and nodded.
“Congratulations, Sergeant Hunt. That’s great news,” Charlie piped up. He walked over to Sam and held out his hand. Sam ignored the gesture. His eyes were focused on a muffin in the display case.
“Your father decided it was time to do things he wanted to do for a change,” Gwen continued. “He’s going to help me out around the café. I guess he thinks taking orders from your mean old stepmom will be a little easier than from the Inspector.”
Declan stared at his father. “I’m surprised. I always saw you as a ‘die with your boots on’ kinda guy.”
“Yeah. Me too. But things change. With Gwen and…this place,” Sam said motioning to the café. “I figured it would give me more time to spend with her. I guess I’m just going soft.”
“Maybe you are,” Declan said.
The silence was deafening.
“So, there’s a party?” Charlie interjected.
“Yeah…the boys are throwing me a do at The Precinct—the bar, not at the division. Nothing fancy. They just mentioned it to me last week.”
“Oh,” Declan responded.
Gwen jumped into the breach once more. “It came up suddenly and your father and I were just discussing if there was anyone else he wanted to invite—”
Sam cut in. “I didn’t figure you’d want to come. I wasn’t going to ask you. I just wanted to spare you the awkwardness.”
“Yeah,” Declan said. “I’d probably be a bit of a buzz-kill if I showed up. You know, since they canned me from the force, and what with my…reputation—your faggot son.”
Gwen gave Sam a nudge.
“Look, if you think you’d like to be there…if you and Charlie wanted to come, you could drop by for a few minutes.”
Declan’s face was a mask. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Sam said, then took a deep breath. “Well, I guess I should be off. Gotta get back to work.” He drained the rest of his coffee, gave Gwen a peck on the cheek, picked up his bag of baked goods, and left, shutting the door with enough force to rattle the bell above the transom.
Gwen turned to Declan. “I know you and your father haven’t always been close, and it might be a bit uncomfortable, but even though he won’t say it, I think it would mean a lot to him if you were there—both of you. Will you do it? For me?”
Declan’s cell phone buzzed. He looked at it. “I should take this.”
He answered the call. “Michael. What’s up?… Sure… Okay… I’ll get there as soon as I can. Are you all right?”
Gwen could hear the concern in his voice. Declan glanced toward Charlie and continued talking into his phone. “Look, do you mind if I bring Charlie along? It might be good to have a second pair of eyes and you can finally meet him… Good. We’ll see you soon.” He hung up.
Gwen poured the coffees she had just finished making into two paper cups and put lids on them. “I’m guessing you’ll be needing these to go. Everything okay?”
Declan shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
“And what we talked about earlier?” Gwen asked.
“I’ll think about it. Come on, Charlie. We need to get over to Michael’s as soon as we can.”