At about a quarter to three she heard a noise, looked up and saw Randy Zamias walking into her office.
She pulled in a breath. “Mr. Zamias.”
Tall and thin, wearing a neat-as-a-pin brown-tweed suit, Harry’s case worker took the remaining steps to her desk. “Ms. Winston.”
Because she didn’t have a seat in her office to offer him, she rose. “How can I help you?”
“I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news.”
“News?”
“Yes, we’ve located Harry’s father.”
Her heart stopped. She told herself that Harry would be better off with his biological father, but Harry didn’t remember his father. Fear coursed through her. “You have?”
Randy cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, he’s dead.”
This time the world spun. “That’s…” She swallowed, as mixed feelings danced around inside her. Even as her heart swelled at the prospect of getting Harry, it also broke for the little boy who now had no parents. “That’s sad for Harry.”
Randy pushed his glasses up his long, thin nose. He pulled in a breath. “He was killed in a fight in the prison yard three years ago.”
Right about when Harry said he’d last seen his dad. Wendy fell to her seat. “Oh, my God.”
Randy sighed heavily. “Betsy had been informed, but by that time she’d divorced him.” He shook his head. “There’s a lot Betsy didn’t tell us when we visited her.”
Wendy could only stare at him. The knowledge that Harry’s dad was dead was difficult, but she understood Betsy’s reasons for not being forthcoming with Mr. Zamias. She had been ill and protecting her child.
Cullen stepped out of his office. He looked from Randy to Wendy and back to Randy again. His eyes narrowed. “Can I help you?”
Wendy quickly said, “This is Mr. Zamias. He’s Harry’s case worker from social services.” She motioned toward Cullen. “And this is Cullen Barrington.”
Randy’s entire demeanor changed. He went from being a stiff and formal prude, to being awestruck in the blink of an eye. He stuck out his hand to shake Cullen’s. “Mr. Barrington! Such a pleasure to have you back in town.”
“I’m only here for a few weeks.” Cullen turned to Wendy. “Are you okay?”
“Mr. Zamias just told me that Harry’s dad is dead.”
Cullen looked shocked. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
Randy frowned. His beady brown eyes narrowed. His voice dripped with disdain when he said, “So it appears custody falls to you, Ms. Winston.”
Not knowing what to say, Wendy stayed silent. She knew Randy Zamias wasn’t thrilled with the way she’d demanded the rights granted to her by Betsy’s will while social services searched for Harry’s father. But with the news of Harry’s dad’s death, she became Harry’s guardian. End of story.
“Don’t get smug,” Randy said, folding his arms on his chest. “The will may give you custody, but because Harry was in our system, we can check up on him. Check up on you.”
Wendy suspected Randy was only blustering because she’d challenged him, but before she could say something conciliatory to smooth things over, Cullen walked to Randy and slid his arm across his shoulders. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been interacting with Harry since he’s been in Ms. Winston’s custody.”
“You have?”
“Yes. If you’re concerned about this transition period, I’m in Barrington until Christmas. I can continue to help out while Harry gets adjusted.”
“That does make me feel better.”
“Great,” Cullen said, leading Randy to the door.
Watching the exchange, Wendy didn’t know whether to be grateful or appalled. Cullen had taken the entire discussion out of her hands. He hadn’t even given her a chance to be her own diplomat. If she had any doubts that Cullen was exactly like Greg, he’d just eliminated them.
The second Randy was out of hearing range, Cullen spun to face her. “What the heck did you do to get on his bad side?”
“When Betsy died, Harry was put into foster care because I didn’t know about the will. None of us did.” She pulled in a breath and caught Cullen’s gaze. “When her lawyer finally contacted me, I immediately petitioned the courts to get Harry while they searched for his dad.”
“You made him look bad to his superiors.”
“I wasn’t saying he made a bad decision, just an ill-informed one. None of us knew about Betsy’s will. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that Harry had gone into a foster home. But I didn’t want Harry to be with people he didn’t know when he could have been with me.” She paused. Though it felt odd to thank him for high-handing her, she knew she had to. “I guess I should thank you for smoothing things over.”
“Save your thanks. I might just become a thorn in your side. Since I told old Randy I’d help with the transition, I’ll have to take Harry up on his offer of dinner every few nights.”
“That I can handle.” Sort of. She wasn’t happy he had insinuated himself into her life, but she did know his offer had given Randy a graceful out in their situation and he probably wouldn’t bother them. Harry was all hers to raise—
She stopped her thoughts as a terrible realization occurred to her. With Harry now officially in her custody, everything to do with the little boy was her responsibility.
She looked at Cullen again. “I have to tell Harry that his father is dead.”
“DO you want me to be there?”
Wendy bit her lip, considering that. Cullen had promised Randy Zamias he would be part of things while he was in town, but she didn’t want Harry to see Cullen in such an important role that he’d grow to depend on him and have a hole in his life when Cullen returned to Miami.
Still, this was a delicate situation and the more people Harry had around him for support, the better.
She glanced at her watch. “I’ve hired a babysitter who’s been staying with him after school until I return from work. I’m trying to decide if it’s better to let him have another afternoon of thinking he’s got at least some family, or if I should just go home and be honest.”
“Let’s go be honest.”
Leave it to Cullen to make the decision for her. In another twenty seconds she would have said the same thing. Yet, he beat her to the punch. Still, in this case, it really didn’t matter. Harry would appreciate having Cullen around when he got the news about his dad. Anything else was irrelevant.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
They drove their separate cars to her house. Wendy parked in the driveway beside the babysitter’s SUV. Cullen parked on the tree-lined street in front of her house. The ice from the storm over the weekend had melted. Broken limbs had been cleared away. The sun smiled down from a bright-blue sky, but the air was cold, promising that before too long there would be snow on the ground, a sparkling white blanket for Christmas.
She walked into her warm kitchen, where Mrs. Brennon was setting a mug of steaming hot cocoa beside a plate of iced Christmas cookies for Harry’s after-school snack.
“Mrs. Winston!”
“Hi, Mrs. Brennon. I know I’m early today but I really need to talk with Harry.”
Cullen walked in the kitchen door behind