Colin paced restlessly at the window. Sure, he’d put his time in when Sean was young. He’d done his share of diapers and midnight feedings, school plays, parent-teacher conferences. But for a while now Sean had been old enough for the good stuff—those special years. Only, the good stuff didn’t seem to be good enough for Sean. What was wrong with the kid?
Of course, there’d been a new development this past year: Sean’s landing a part on that TV show. It had complicated things big time. His son, the actor. He still couldn’t get used to the idea. In all fairness, he knew his ex-wife couldn’t get used to the idea, either. Beth hadn’t gone looking to make Sean a child star. She’d just been catering a party in L.A., and Sean had been helping her out. One of the guests had turned out to be a producer. He’d been intrigued with Sean, said the boy had potential. Next thing anybody knew, Sean was reading for a part. Next thing after that, he was in a TV series. Fairy tale come true...or nightmare. Because now, according to Beth, Sean was out of control. Beth was fed up with him, and Sean was being shipped out to Idaho for Colin to “set him straight.”
A speck appeared in the sky, grew larger, and soon his son’s charter came in for a landing. Colin watched from the window a moment longer, then realized he should be out there with a greeting. He was halfway across the tarmac when he saw Sean emerge from the plane. Taller, it seemed, than a month ago, and a little on the lanky side. The dark glasses he had on gave him a too-sophisticated look.
Colin raised his hand. Scan didn’t wave back. Instead he went down the steps and, without another glance in Colin’s direction, disappeared into a limousine waiting a short distance off. Then the limo drove away.
At first Colin thought it was just a misunderstanding. He even began to jog after the car. But then he realized what a damn fool he must look like, sprinting across the tarmac and waving his arms at a rapidly vanishing limousine. This was no misunderstanding. Sean had, for all intents and purposes, ditched him.
A few moments later Colin was in his Jeep. His son had a good start on him, and by the time he reached the highway he could barely see the limo way up the road. At least it was headed toward Sobriety. Colin pressed on the gas. Eventually he was right on the limo’s tail. He couldn’t see inside it, though, the windows were that tinted. What did he think he was going to do next—start honking, force the limo off the road? And then give his son a big welcome hug?
He followed the limo all the way into Sobriety, staring at the tinted glass that wouldn’t let him see in. And he couldn’t help noting that the dark barrier between his son and him symbolized their relationship precisely.
Question was...how did he get Sean to open up to him?
IT WAS ALEX’S SECOND visit to Herbie McIntyre’s house. As she used the old-fashioned brass knocker, she half expected to see Dusty the terrier come bouncing out. Instead, when the door opened, she was confronted by a teenage boy. He looked familiar, and no wonder. He was so much a younger version of Colin—the same dark hair, same intent blue eyes, maybe the same stubborn demeanor.
“Hi,” the boy said with interest.
“You’re late, Alex.”
Colin appeared behind the boy, and Alex was struck by the fact that the two were even dressed alike—khaki shorts and a Dodgers T-shirt for the man, faded cutoffs and a Packers T-shirt for the boy.
“Thought maybe you’d decided not to come,” Colin said quickly.
“Actually I’m right on time,” she told him, not seeing the need for that brief amusement in Colin’s eyes. Colin hadn’t argued about her coming over today, but he still hadn’t agreed to be her “guinea pig.”
“This is my son, Sean,” he said. “Sean—Dr. Alex Robbins.”
The boy gave Colin a disgusted glance and wandered back inside the house. Colin gazed after him with a slight frown. It seemed that the McIntyre males were at odds.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” Alex said.
“Unfortunately Sean doesn’t appear to know it, either,” Colin said dryly.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Do you have kids, Alex?”
“No,” she said, “but I do know a thing or two about them—”
“It wasn’t an accusation.” He gazed at her thoughtfully. “More like a rhetorical question.”
“Could we just get started? I don’t think you’ll find our session too painful.”
“So now it’s a session,” he said, his tone ironic.
He led the way to a living room that was comfortably cluttered—a newspaper scattered on the coffee table, books with well-used bindings stacked on the shelves, a colorful rag rug with a dog bone tossed in the middle. What drew Alex, though, were the family photos tucked here and there. She drifted to the mantel and examined a picture of a much-younger Herb, his arm around a woman with soft, wavy hair. Another photo showed Colin with a strikingly beautiful brunette and a little boy who had to be Sean. Still another photograph, this one taking pride of place in the very center of the mantel, showed a cocky young man in an air force uniform. Again, the McIntyre genes were unmistakable.
Colin came to stand beside her, nodding at the first picture. “Herb and my grandmother. They got divorced a long time ago, but they’ve managed to remain friends. She’s the only person who can give him as much hell as he deserves.”
Alex moved on to the next photo. “Your wife?”
“Ex. Don’t know why Herb’s hanging on to that one.”
He didn’t sound disturbed, just indifferent. Alex studied the family grouping in the photograph: the little boy in front, about five years old, holding a toy airplane, oblivious to the camera, Colin with his arm draped casually around the shoulders of the beautiful brunette. She was turned toward him, laughing as if they were in the middle of an intimate conversation.
“Were you happy?” Alex asked. “I don’t mean the kind of happy that people put on for the camera. I just mean...were you happy?”
He remained impassive. “Is this part of being a guinea pig?”
She lifted her shoulders. “The personal life of the Type R man—believe me, that’s worth a couple of chapters in itself. But right now...I’m asking off the record.”
He gazed at the photo. “We were happy for a while, I think. At least, that’s my version. Maybe Beth would tell you different. She’d probably say I was a pain in the neck because I was always on the verge of breaking my neck.”
“Your boss was right, then,” Alex murmured. “You are reckless.”
He gave her a sardonic glance. “That’s not the only thing that drove Beth crazy. She was very good at living in the moment, taking one day at a time. I’m always pushing ahead. Always searching for something new...something different in my life.” He frowned. “Problem is, living in the moment has its drawbacks, too. If both of us had looked ahead more with Sean, we might have stopped this damned career of his before it even started.”
“Sean has a career?” Alex asked, intrigued by these glimpses into Colin’s life.
“Ever heard of Arrested Development?”
Alex nodded. “Vaguely. Television show, right?”
“I suppose,” he said gruffly. “It’s a sitcom about a police detective raising his two nephews. Sean plays the oldest kid.”
“No wonder he’s so familiar. I thought it was just the resemblance to you...but I’ve seen his face before. A couple of magazine interviews, maybe.”
“Too many,” Colin muttered. “All the publicity’s gotten out of hand. Everything’s gotten out of hand—Sean included.”