Temporary Father

“Hey, buddy,” she said.

“Can’t talk, Mom.”

Alien massacres for sure. “I asked Uncle Van’s friend over for lunch, and I wanted to warn you guys. Will you let your uncle know?”

“I’m not sure where he is.” His movement made Van’s leather sofa grumble. “I think I hear him in his office. He might be on the phone, too. I’ll tell him if he comes out.”

“Good enough. See you in a little while.”

“Okay.” He started to hang up. The phone hit the receiver, but then he was talking again. “Mom, did you go by Gross’s Sporting Goods?”

Her heart broke. She lied to her son because she couldn’t stand telling him no again. “I forgot you wanted me to, son. Maybe we can look together sometime this week.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t afford what I want anyway.”

She was failing her son, and all avenues of escape seemed to be disappearing. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Mom?”

“Hmmm?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She gritted her teeth. “It’s normal to be upset you can’t have what you want.”

“I understand why, though.”

Something was wrong. All the more reason not to play sighs-and-smiles with her temporary neighbor.

AIDAN SKIPPED the hot-dog fest. Not that he didn’t want hot dogs or another few minutes with the first woman who’d made him feel alive in eighteen months.

At around dinnertime, he’d stood on the weathered gray deck of the cottage, scenting the delicious aroma of a grill at work—wanting to go—but Beth obviously hadn’t wanted him to show up.

In the end, he’d lost himself in the business channels on the satellite, pretending that catching up on the news he’d missed was just as much fun. Which probably explained why he’d fallen into a deep sleep on the fat, blue-and-white plaid sofa.

Something thudded into the door a little after six in the morning. Aidan’s eyes opened and he gasped a deep breath. He rolled his head on a sofa cushion, not recognizing the tick of the clock, the rough scratch of the upholstery or the deep, thick silence of no-one-else-at-home.

He’d hardly slept since the heart attack. Not that he was avoiding Madeline’s accusing face in his dreams. He did try to sleep.

He pulled on sweats and padded to the front door. Outside, The Honesty Sentinel lay on the rug. He picked it up, sliding it out of its plastic sleeve.

His father was the one who’d persuaded the nurses to hide newspapers from him. Aidan had put his foot down the day his mother had tried have his television removed. No CNN? No CNBC? She and his father had retired from running the business eight years ago, but they still kept in touch with the business world.

She was trying so hard to cut him off from it, she must want him dead.

He caught up on the print news of the past ten days, licking his lips every so often in a craving for coffee. The hospital staff had cut him back to one cup a day.

After a caffeine headache that had lasted the first half of his hospital stay, he anticipated the lone, large, rich cup. Every lunchtime, he sipped, making the treat last.

Putting that boon off took all his concentration. He checked his watch. At seven on a Tuesday morning, his mother would be up, also scouting for coffee before she went to the office. He dialed, and a severe British voice answered.

“I’m not sure Mrs. Nikolas is available. May I deliver a message for you to your mother?”

“Tell her she won’t avoid my questions about the business by pretending she’s asleep.”

“Oh, let me have it, Simon.” His mother’s impatience stabbed at the quiet. “You’re supposed to be resting, Aidan.”

“What goes on with the Skyliner deal? It’s not in the papers.”

“How’d you get a newspaper?”

“Mother, I ran Nikolas Enterprises by myself until—” Even the memory of that day made him feel mortal. “Tell me what’s happening. Dragonlawn—have they agreed to our terms? I want to start R&D on the redesign of their residential lawn mower. That’ll be a quick profit.”

“Aidan, I cannot listen to this. Put down the newspaper. Turn off your TV. Lay off the coffee, and go for a walk.”

“I haven’t touched caffeine, and obviously you haven’t, either. Tell me what’s going on or I’ll browbeat the staff into filling me in.”

“You’d have to fire them. Your father and I have warned everyone in the building they’re not to worry you about work.”

“I’m bored out of my mind.” He tightened his grip on the phone. “If somebody doesn’t tell me what’s happening, I’ll fire the whole damn company and start over with loyal associates.”

“I’m sure they’ll be terrified. God knows I am.” His mother turned away from the phone. “Thank you, Simon.” She sipped loudly in Aidan’s ear. “Ahh, that’s better. Look, we’re fine. Work’s going well. I’ll let you know if your empire starts to crumble.”

“Let me talk to Dad.”

“Sorry. He’s already headed to the car.”

“Tell him to call me on his cell.”

“No.”

“No?”

“And I’ll tell him not to answer if you call. Between Madeline and a heart attack, we’ve been on the verge of losing you for the past year. I’m tired of being afraid, and I don’t care that you’re forty-two. You’re still my child. Have a good day, darling.”

Aidan pressed his fist to the granite counter. The expensive bag of coffee beans he’d stashed in the cupboard above the fridge sang a siren’s song. Bourbon would be even better.

Anything to dull the humiliation. He saw his car keys on the table. There must be a SuperComputer store in town.

They sold laptops.

SMOKE. Eli kept smelling smoke. In his hair, on his shirt and his jeans. Standing in the tall grass at the edge of his uncle’s yard, he slapped at his clothes and his head. The smoke followed him like a shadow. It wouldn’t leave him alone.

No one else ever noticed because it wasn’t real.

He smelled it because he felt guilty—and that scared him bad.

Lucy jumped up, whining as she clawed at his arm. He pointed toward the edge of the lake where the grass grew taller. That shouldn’t stop a Lab. “Your ball is over there.”