A Place Called Home (18 page)

“That Buick is slowing down,” he warned her.

Thea strove for patience as she lightly tapped the brake. “Thank you.” She turned on her signal light, checked the mirrors, then whipped into the passing lane. “So what do you think?”

“About your driving?”

“I know what you think about that. What about telling Mrs. A.?”

“I’ve told you what I think about that, too.” He fell silent a moment, then said, “Just how many people have to know about your condition before that woman is satisfied?”

Thea tried not to bristle at his faintly accusatory tone. “At least one more than you, Joel.”

“I don’t understand. You go to those meetings. There are, what? Twenty? Thirty people there? They all know. Isn’t that sufficient?”

“Rosie says it’s not the same, and I’m inclined to agree with her. The Hi-my-name-is-Thea anonymity serves its purpose but I could use some help outside of the meetings. I’m a substance abuser. An addict. It’s not exactly a condition.”

“If there’s a problem, it’s because your doctor overprescribed medication. I think you have a malpractice case. So does Avery.”

“That isn’t helpful. Don’t find excuses for me, Joel. I’m good at finding them for myself.”

Joel found the button that adjusted his seat. He pushed it so the back slanted a few degrees more toward the rear of the car. He rested his head on the support and closed his eyes. “Let me know when we’re there.”

Thea was not sure whether he took that position to avoid conversation or because he hated her driving. It worked on both counts. They didn’t speak again until she was pulling into the passenger eject lane at Pittsburgh International.

“Will you at least wait until I get back before you say anything to Mrs. A.?” asked Joel. “A few more days can’t hurt. We can both think about it. There could be consequences you haven’t considered.”

That
she
hadn’t considered. Thea hadn’t missed that part. It was Joel’s way of telling her he knew them all. “Very well.”

Joel frowned. “That was too easy,” he said. “Do you have a bomb you want to drop?”

“More like a hand grenade.” She pulled the trunk release but neither of them made a move to get out of the car. Thea turned slightly in her seat. “I want us to have dinner with Mitchell Baker and his girlfriend when you get back. I was thinking of Saturday night. Will you do that for me?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Joel leaned across the console. The kiss he gave Thea was both lingering and hard, and when he pulled back they were both a shade out of breath. “I’m going before we get cited.”

Thea saw a uniformed officer walking toward the car. He looked as if he had no patience for public displays of affection and was prepared to give them a dressing-down before he waved them on. Joel pushed his door open and hopped out of the car. “I’ll call you tonight.” He got his carry-on and garment bag out of the trunk and closed the lid, tapping it twice to indicate he was done.

Thea watched him walk up to the door. He turned once and gave her a little wave. She waved back, a small frown pulling her brows together. She saw the officer motioning her out with his thumb, and she pulled away from the curb without looking. “That was too easy,” she said under her breath.

She wasn’t talking about her merge into traffic.

Prior to Saturday evening Thea’s contact with Mitch was limited to two brief phone calls,the first to suggest the day, restaurant, and time, and the second to confirm that he and Gina could make it.

Joel had arrived back in town only the previous night. Thea met him at their favorite Italian eatery in the Strip District a half hour early so they could have a few private moments before being joined by their guests. Joel ordered a bottle of red before he remembered Thea wouldn’t be joining him.

“You’re not a drunk, Thea,” he said quietly. “One glass wouldn’t be out of line.”

“I suppose this means we’re done with the amenities,” she said. She deliberately squeezed her lemon slice into her water and took a sip. She held up her glass to the candlelight. “Light. Zesty. The bouquet is suggestive of lemon-scented Shine and Shield, but not unfriendly.”

“Stop it. You’ve made your point.”

Thea reached under the table and touched Joel’s thigh. “Are we going to fight? I don’t want to do that.”

“What do you want, Thea? I’m not certain I know any longer. I don’t seem to be able to do anything right since you came out of rehab.”

She removed her hand and smoothed the edge of the white tablecloth with her fingertips instead. “It’s not rehab,” she said. “Or it’s not only rehab. I have the children to think about.” Thea lowered her voice. “My lifelong friend and his wife were just killed, Joel. How can you not understand that some things have changed for me?”

Joel Strahern did not lack compassion. He saw Thea was hurting and knew he was, in part, responsible for it. He laid his hand over hers, rubbing the back of her hand with the ball of his thumb. “Can you appreciate,” he said softly, “that I don’t want to lose you? Things I thought we understood, you’re asking me to change. And each time I restate my position I wonder if you’ll end it.” He gave her hand a slight squeeze. “You look great from behind, Thea, but I dread that view if it means you’re walking out on me.”

Thea’s small smile was shaky. “I didn’t mean to get into this tonight, Joel. I really didn’t. I wouldn’t have met you early if I thought this was going to happen. Perhaps there is no good time to tell you that time is exactly what I need.” She watched his face go very still and felt his hand leave hers. Thea waded on, feeling the water get deeper and colder. “No one has to know anything’s changed between us, if that’s the way you want it. It’s not as though our engagement’s been formally announced. People who have seen the ring will think we’re just trying to be quiet about it. People who haven’t, won’t know differently.”

“Obviously you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

It was almost all she had thought about since dropping him off at the airport. She nodded faintly because she owed him the truth. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me,” she said. “But that’s not what I’m asking for. I want the freedom to be with the children more without feeling as if I’m being pulled in another direction by you. I don’t think you can give me that yet, and I don’t blame you for it. I know one of the things that attracted you to me was the fact I wanted no children of my own. You were always honest about that.”

“So were you,” he said bitterly. “Or so I thought.”

Thea felt her face warm. “I was honest,” she said. “I didn’t know what I know now. The circumstances of my life have changed, and I owe it to Emilie and the boys to do my very best by them.”

Joel raised his wineglass, took a long swallow, then regarded her over the rim. “Then you’re going to ask for full custody?”

“No.” Reluctantly she admitted, “It’s occurred to me, but you can’t know how unfair and cruel that would be to everyone.”

“Including Baker.”

Thea nodded.

“I thought he didn’t want them. Didn’t he try to pawn them off on you only a couple of weeks ago?”

Joel’s choice of words made Thea stiffen, but she answered calmly enough. “He panicked, Joel. He didn’t know how much he wanted the children.”

“So now you’re going to help.” His voice was flat and unflattering. “Who do you think you’re kidding, Thea? This is about Mitchell Baker, not the children.”

She shook her head. “I can’t help it if you think that. It’s not true, not in the way you seem to think it is. He’s one of the good guys, Joel, and he’s asked for my help. I want to give him that.”

“Deputy Mom,” Joel said against the rim of his glass before he drained it.

Thea drew in her lower lip as she watched Joel pour a second glass of wine. He correctly read her concern and shrugged, the curve of his mouth faintly derisive. With a small, defiant salute he raised his glass and drank again. Thea maintained a stoic silence, glancing at Joel’s Rolex as he lifted his arm. He caught the direction of her gaze, looked at the time himself, and commented, “Seems the posse is runnin’ a bit behind schedule, ma’am.”

“Maybe we should order something,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t mind an appetizer. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Joel put his hand over Thea’s menu as she began to open it. “I think we should wait. It would be rude to start without them.”

Rather than struggle with her menu, Thea removed her hands to her lap.

“I’ll behave,” Joel said. He touched her chin and applied only minimal pressure to get her to look at him. “I promise.”

She searched his face, saw that in spite of the blow she had dealt him and the pain he was in, he was sincere about this. She nodded slowly.

Joel lowered his hand and pushed his wineglass to the side. “Do you want to call him? I have my phone if you don’t have yours.”

Thea looked around the crowded restaurant. Candlelight was reflected warmly in the darkening windows as night had long since closed around them, but intimacy was an illusion. Privacy was suggested, not ensured. “I don’t want to make a call from here. I don’t like it when other people do the same thing. Let’s just wait them out.”

“All right.” Joel’s eyes followed the progress of a waiter coming toward them with a basket of warm chunks of bread. He picked one out as soon as the basket made a landing and dipped it in a shallow pool of seasoned olive oil. “I’ll start with this.”

Smiling, Thea chose one for herself. “I’ll join you.”

There was no bread left by the time Gina and Mitch arrived. Their waiter swept away the evidence of Thea and Joel’s head start and replaced it with a new one. Thea made the introductions and watched closely as Joel and Mitch sized each other up. As macho posturing went, it was a fairly mild demonstration, and Thea had the sense they did it more in response to her expectations than out of any real desire to mark their territory. Interesting.

Joel ordered another bottle of wine and poured what remained in his bottle between Gina and Mitch.

“Thank you,” Gina said. “But this will have to last the evening. I’m the designated driver tonight.”

Joel smiled. “So is Thea.”

Thea supposed that was a discreet, if mildly dishonest way to describe her abstinence. “You have the Xterra?” she asked.

Gina nodded. “I refused to climb in and out of his truck in this dress.”

Since she was wearing a Slinky, Thea didn’t see that it mattered to what heights she climbed. And a leg up on the Chevy couldn’t have been much higher than the one she had to make into the SUV. Her comment, though, effectively brought everyone’s eyes to the skinny red dress. “Vera Wang?” asked Thea.

“Yes,” Gina said. “It is.”

“Gina sold another monster house a few days ago,” Mitch said. “I think she spent her entire commission in one shopping spree.”

Gina rolled her eyes. “He’s never understood shopping.”

Joel tilted his head to regard Gina and the fabulous red dress. “And the way you go about it, it’s obviously not for the faint of heart.”

Gina’s scarlet lips parted in a brilliantly appreciative smile and her matching nails tapped Joel on the sleeve of his jacket. “You are so right. Shopping is a blood sport.”

Thea stared at Joel as he gave a small, spontaneous shout of laughter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw several diners turn in the direction of their table and smile. It was the first Thea had heard him laugh all evening, and when she thought back, she realized with some dismay that it was the first real laugh she’d heard from him in weeks.

“What’s wrong?” asked Joel.

Thea was slow to understand he was speaking to her. She blinked. When he continued to stare at her, a question in his eyes, she came around. “Oh, it was just ...” Her smile was a shade wistful. “It was just so nice to hear you laugh.” Impulsively, Thea reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

Over the rim of his wineglass, Mitch regarded his dinner companions with mild disgust. Gina had her True Blood nails pressed into Joel Strahern’s jacket and Thea had her hand clamped over his fingers. The sixty-one-year-old investment banker was the hotdog in a girl bun. Mitch tipped back his glass. It was going to be a very long night.

The waiter came by to recite the specials and take their orders. Without discussion, they had all chosen the same salad: roasted red beets, fresh apples, and goat cheese in a red wine vinaigrette. Thea and Gina asked for the salmon
alla griglia,
while Joel ordered the lasagne Bolognese, and Mitch, because he found himself dithering uncharacteristically, selected one of the specials, an endless trio of fresh pasta stuffed with seasonal fillings.

“Tell me about this house you sold,” Joel said to Gina when the salads arrived. “Quite the coup in this market. In town or out?”

Mitch caught Thea’s eye, smiled blandly, and then started on his salad as Gina began to regale them with the gory details of her second favorite blood sport. She gave a good account of real estate skullduggery that kept Joel entertained, Thea politely interested, and Mitch drinking until his pasta trio arrived.

“So what is it about this truck of yours, Mitch?” Joel asked. “The one that Regina won’t ride in.”

“It’s a ’53 Chevy.”

Joel didn’t have to feign curiosity. “You restored it yourself?”

Mitch nodded. “I worked on it for years on and off.”

“We had a Chevy truck when I was kid. A ’55, I think. Powder blue. We had a farm out on McKnight before all the development. My dad ran that Chevy all over the countryside, used it for everything.”

Straherns? Farmers? They raised capital, not cattle. Their idea of a cash crop was, well,
cash.
Mitch wasn’t buying this tilling-the-earth version of Joel’s childhood, though he hadn’t meant to communicate his skepticism quite so openly that it elicited a response.

“Every man’s got to have a hobby,” Joel said. “My dad liked farming, even if he only did it on the weekends. I think he always regretted selling the place. He didn’t have the retirement he imagined without it.”

“What about your hobby?” asked Gina.

“Woodworking.”

The immediate image in Mitch’s mind was of Joel Strahern bent over a cross section slab of oak, burning pictures of deer and fish and ferns into the wood with a red-hot soldering pen, acrid smoke rising from the surface. He actually smiled.