“Yeah.” Neal laughed. “You look the same way I did when I first learned Anne was a bigwig corporate executive. She teaches engineering at North Country Community College, too.”
“Your wife owns GreenSpaces?”
Neal nodded. “Anne and her first husband started the company, and she inherited his stock to add to her own when he died.”
Rhys shifted on the hard wooden bench. “I’m not licensed or part of a union or anything,” he said, wanting to be honest about his qualifications.
“The job I have is for a more general laborer, but your electrical knowledge is a plus. Interested?”
“I sure am.” He saw no reason to hide his enthusiasm.
Neal reached in his wallet and pulled out his business card. “Does eight o’clock tomorrow morning work for you for an interview?”
“Eight’s fine.”
Rhys fingered the card. His roller-coaster life was heading up again. He prayed that it stayed there as he watched Owen walk back with Renee and thought about Dylan. CPS seemed to be more into keeping them apart than in reuniting them. He’d talk with Pastor Connor about the Building Bridges thing at the Hazardtown Community Church. Rhys had shrugged off the pastor’s recommendation that he get involved to help him and his boys reconnect. But now he thought it just might help him reach Dylan—and keep the uphill momentum.
Renee had trouble quelling the emotion that welled inside her as she watched father and son part ways in the driveway of the Hills’ home. How did the other CPS workers maintain their professional distance? Would this be a problem at Building Bridges, too, working so closely with kids?
Owen began peppering his father with questions such as “When will I see you again? Can I come and see the house you got us?” and “When can Dylan and I come live with you?”
She listened as his father calmly answered, reassuring the boy that he was as anxious as Owen to be a family again, but not giving his son any direct answers that could mislead him. Rhys had asked her the same questions when they’d met before the visit. The only answer she’d had for him then was that the Family Court judge would make those decisions.
After giving his son a final hug, Rhys climbed into his truck and drove away. She walked Owen into the house.
“Did you have a good time?” Suzi asked.
“The best,” Owen said. “Alex and his dad were there, too.”
“Dylan’s been waiting for you to come home. He’s up in your room.”
“Okay. I’ll go so you can talk to Ms. Delacroix.”
Renee and Suzi laughed.
“Too perceptive for his own good,” Suzi said once he was gone. “Did you have a chance to ask Mr. Maddox—Rhys—about Sunday dinner?”
“No, I didn’t even think of it.”
The original plan had been for Suzi to invite him to dinner after the ice-cream outing if everything had gone well, which Renee thought it had—with Owen, at least. But the episode with Dylan at the Social Services office had prevented Suzi from going to get ice cream with Rhys and having the opportunity to ask.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Renee said. Her heart raced at the prospect of hearing his deep voice, a voice that held the same hint of danger as his eyes and posture. But observing him with Owen, she’d seen a man who didn’t match her earlier impressions.
“Or I can,” Suzi offered.
“No, I’ll do it.” Suzi would have to call her or the Maddox’s caseworker with the details anyway.
“Okay, let me know what he says. Although I think I already know what his answer will be.”
Renee nodded. “Talk to you later.”
She walked to her car, her pulse still skittering. What was she afraid of? This wasn’t Haiti. It was only a phone call, and one he’d welcome.
* * *
A half hour later Renee arrived at the three-family house in Ticonderoga where she and her sister Claire had an apartment. Before unlocking the front door she retrieved their mail, including a large padded envelope for Claire that was wedged between the mailbox and the house siding.
“Hey. Is that what I think it is?”
Renee jumped.
Claire stood at the bottom of the porch steps. “I hope whatever thought you were lost in was a good one,” she said.
Not really. The picture in her mind of Rhys leaving his son faded and her anxiety returned. She waved the padded envelope to divert Claire’s attention. “You’re expecting something from Texas A&M maybe?”
Claire broke into a wide smile. “You know I am.” She grabbed the envelope and clutched it to her chest as Renee opened the door.
“After you,” Renee said, smiling as she followed Claire up to their second-floor apartment. Maybe she should order in or take Claire out to celebrate and clear her mind of work.
“How does it look on me?” Claire asked, draping her newly earned Masters in Agricultural Development degree in front of her.
“Fabulous. It really matches your ivory complexion.”
“Don’t you think?” Claire lifted the paper closer to her face and tilted her head.
“I’m proud of you,” Renee said. “And I know Mom and Dad are, too.”
She was proud of Claire. Her sister had decided what she’d wanted—a hands-on position at the Cornell Experimental Farm, and to eventually work her way up to director—and she’d focused all of her energy on what she’d needed to do to get there. All of her siblings were like that.
“I really admire your drive.”
“You’re no slacker yourself,” Claire said.
“But sometimes I feel like I am, like I have no direction. The rest of you all knew what you wanted to do and were on your way there by the time you were my age.”
Beginning with her oldest sister, they’d all achieved their dreams—mother, chef, newscaster. Even her twin, Paul, who’d wanted to take over the family dairy farm since he’d seen his first baby calf.
“You’re on your way with your graduate work, the internship you’re wrapping up and your new job.”
Renee pushed her hair off her forehead. “I’m headed somewhere, but I’m not sure it’s where I want to be or where I’m supposed to be headed.”
“I knew something’s been bothering you. Talk to me,” Claire said, placing her degree on an end table and motioning Renee to sit.
Renee dropped onto the couch. “I got my BA in sociology because I wanted to help people. When I graduated, I thought my calling was health care, so I went to Haiti. It wasn’t health care. But—” for the most part, she added silently “—I made a difference working with the families that came into the clinic. I came back knowing I wanted to work with children and their families.”
“Now you don’t?” Claire asked.
“I do, but my internship has showed me that I don’t want to work in child protection services.” She peered into her sister’s sympathetic face. “I don’t want the responsibility of taking a child from or placing a child back with a parent and having something go wrong with the placement.”
Claire draped her arm around Renee’s shoulder, making