“Do you know his home number?” the woman asked.
“I have the number where he’s staying,” she said, grateful for whatever had prompted Harley to give it to her. “Hang on a second.”
Taking the cordless phone, she went to her bedroom and found the slip of paper Harley had handed her just before she left the restaurant. She rattled off the number, then hung up and dialed it herself, far more eager to talk to Harley now that the possibility of being unable to reach him seemed all too likely.
“’Lo?”
“Harley?”
“No, it’s Tank. Who’s this?”
“Lauren Worthington. I don’t know if you remember me, but I used to date your brother Damien.”
“’Course I remember you. We went to high school together.”
Part of the rowdy crowd, Tank had been popular, but Lauren had never really spoken to him until two years ago, when Damien had taken her to a family birthday party. “I’m looking for Harley Nelson,” she said, fidgeting nervously. “It’s important that I talk to him. Is he around?”
“Nope. Haven’t seen him all day. But if he’s late or somethin’, don’t give up on him. I know he wouldn’t miss dinner at your place.”
“That’s just it,” Lauren said. “He’s planning to see Brandon, but I…um…I forgot that Brandon won’t be here. He’s got…” Her mind raced as she tried to come up with an event important enough to justify canceling, but nothing presented itself. “…something he can’t miss,” she finished lamely.
Tank hesitated as though trying to decide whether or not to believe her, and she fought the temptation to prop up the lie with more senseless babble.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “I know Harley will be disappointed.”
“Yeah…um…so will Brandon.” Except that he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Closing her eyes, Lauren briefly remembered a conversation she’d had with Brandon just a few months ago.
I hope I’ll be tall like my dad.
How do you know your dad was tall?
My mom used to talk about him.
What did she say?
That he was the cutest boy in school.
He was certainly handsome. She’d winked at him. But you’re going to be even better-looking.
He’d smiled, but seemed to sink into a rather somber mood almost immediately after. Grandfather doesn’t think I look anything like my dad.
Lauren had almost admitted that Quentin Worthington probably didn’t see any resemblance between father and son because he didn’t want to. But getting caught up in a conversation that would only disparage Harley wouldn’t do Brandon any good. Her father had told him enough negative things about Harley already.
Grandfather didn’t see as much of Harley as your mother and I did. Maybe he doesn’t remember.
That’s not it, Brandon had surprised her by saying. I think he’s afraid I’ll turn out just like him.
From the mouths of babes….
“I’ll give him the message you called,” Tank said.
Lauren massaged her temple. “Okay. And let him know he left his cell phone at Hudson & Taylor’s, will you? A woman by the name of Angela has it.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Lauren?”
“Yeah?”
“Harley’s…well, he’s—ah, shit, never mind. It’s none of my business. I’ll let you go.”
“What?” she prompted. Had Harley said something about her? About Brandon? About his plans?
Tank seemed to struggle with the words. “If it doesn’t work out for Harley to see Brandon tonight, I hope you’ll consider letting him come over another time. He’s pretty excited about meeting his boy.”
This, Lauren didn’t want to hear. She couldn’t think of Harley’s feelings. She already had her own heart and her parents and Brandon to consider. Even Audra’s memory seemed to be pulling at her. Lauren just couldn’t tell which direction her sister would want her to go. After her relationship with Harley, Audra had grown very bitter and blamed their father for most of her mistakes. If she were alive, would she be in Harley’s camp? If so, why hadn’t she ever contacted him?
Ignoring the melancholy that threatened whenever she thought of Audra, Lauren said, “I’ll keep that in mind,” but she warned herself to forget about it instead.
“Who was that?” Brandon asked, toting his backpack into the kitchen as she hung up the phone.
Lauren whirled at the sound of his voice. She’d been so wrapped up in her conversation with Tank that she hadn’t heard him come in. “No one you know, sweetie.”
“Did Grandma and Grandpa call today?”
“I talked to them this morning.”
“When are they coming home?”
“Not until the middle of June, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Delving into his backpack, Brandon began to spread his books on the table. “I have tons of homework,” he complained. “I don’t know why Mrs. Cooper had to give us so much today. Fourth grade isn’t supposed to be so hard.”
“It’s good for you,” Lauren replied automatically. Brandon was enrolled in one of the best private schools in the state and usually had quite a bit of homework. But Lauren’s thoughts weren’t on his education. She was wondering what she’d do if Harley didn’t go back to Tank’s—if he didn’t get her message. She certainly couldn’t stay here and hope to turn him away at the door.
“Come on,” she said suddenly. “Pack your stuff and bring it with you. We’re going to Kimberly’s.”
“What?” Brandon paused in mid-motion. “I thought you were making dinner.”
“We’ll take it with us and finish it there.”
He gave her a mystified look. “You’re acting weird, Aunt Lauren, you know that?”
“Just because I want to go to Kimberly’s? We go there all the time.”
“But we don’t carry our dinner over there.”
“It’ll be fun.” Hopping off the stool at the desk, she hurried to the large walk-in pantry to get the picnic basket.
“Do I have to spend the night again?” he asked.
“Don’t you like staying with Kimberly?” She found the picnic basket easily enough and hauled it out to the kitchen, where she started gathering their meal so they could leave as soon as possible.
“I guess,” he said. “But I’d rather stay home. It’s a school night, remember?”
“Isn’t that my line?” She forced a smile, hoping he’d cooperate without her having to push. She hated to make him go to Kimberly’s if he didn’t want to, but he had to go somewhere, and Kimberly’s place was safe. “We can make an exception every once in a while, you know,” she added, getting the salad from the refrigerator.
Instead of packing up, he sank into his seat and started flipping his pencil against the table. Tap, tap, tap, tap…
“Then can I go to Scott’s instead?”
“Not tonight.”
Tap,