The Surprise Holiday Dad

“And we’ll play with the police set?” The little boy gazed up at him. “Shoot some bad guys?”

“Shoot some pretend bad guys.” Wade’s grin transformed him into the young, open-faced man he’d been when Adrienne had met him all those years ago, she recalled abruptly. If she wasn’t careful, she might start to like him.

Her earlier image of him as a crouching lion came to mind. No matter how appealing he seemed, there was no telling if or when he might pounce.

Chapter Three

For Wade, social events, unless they involved watching football games, quickly wore thin. The aversion dated from his childhood, when family gatherings had usually degenerated into arguments involving either Mom vs. Dad or Daryl vs. Grandpa Bruce.

This one seemed pleasant, though. Wade was glad he’d had a chance to meet, or at least observe, some of the other parents. They obviously played a major role in Reggie’s life.

When he’d speculated about seeking employment out of town and taking Reggie with him, he hadn’t considered the other people in his son’s life. Moreover, everything about Reggie, from his healthy appearance to his trusting nature, showed Adrienne’s loving care. Wade had to admit that the aunt was doing a fine job. Still, if it came to a choice between claiming his son and losing him again, Wade knew which choice he’d make.

He cut through the kitchen. “Leaving already?” Peter, the teacher and coach, was arranging candles on a bear-shaped chocolate cake while a couple other people worked at the counter. “I don’t blame you. If you aren’t used to being around kids, the noise level can be grating.”

“Yeah, it’s new to me.” Wade searched for a polite question and hit on “Which one’s yours?”

“Mia, the little girl with short brown hair and a snub nose, is about to become my stepdaughter,” the man said. “Harper and I are getting married the day after Thanksgiving. Adrienne’s been kind enough to let us have the ceremony here.”

“Generous of her.” Seemed like a lot of work, but women enjoyed planning weddings. And birthday parties, and Christmas celebrations, Wade thought wistfully, remembering his mother. Once again his heart went out to his son. Vicki might have been—had been—a messed-up individual, but she’d still been Reg’s mom.

After a polite farewell, Wade turned to go. Patty popped into his path holding a tray of sandwiches. “Hungry?” she asked. “There’s peanut butter, tuna fish and grilled cheese with tomatoes. It tastes good even though it’s healthy.”

His stomach growled as his hand hovered over the tray.

“Take one of each. They’re small.” She shook back her fine, straight hair. “Hey, so I guess there’s a story about why you left town. I never bought that stuff about wanting a change of scenery.”

“Yes. A long story.” He bit into the first sandwich. The cheese nearly melted in his mouth.

Patty set the tray down nearby. “While you’re eating, here’s my pitch. We could use another hand at the agency and you’d fit right in. Mike Aaron bought it, you know.”

Wade had no idea what she was talking about, although he did recall Mike Aaron as a detective at the P.D. “Which agency?”

“Fact Hunter.” Patty regarded him curiously. “You knew your grandfather sold it, right?”

“I had no idea.” Wade hadn’t spoken with his grandfather since their bitter quarrel several years ago. Although Bruce Hunter had been furious that Wade had refused to quit his job in Pine Tree and join the investigations agency, the old man hadn’t mentioned selling it.

Maybe he’d been irate because he’d hoped his grandson’s joining him would allow him to keep it afloat. No doubt Bruce had had too much pride to admit he couldn’t keep running the place by himself in his seventies. Well, he should have said so. Might not have changed anything, but Wade, who’d resented what he’d seen as an attempt to control him, might have responded more gently.

“You and your grandpa don’t talk much, eh?” Patty said. “Well, Mike bought the agency a couple years ago with his brother, Lock.”

“Lock? Don’t think I’ve met him.” Despite Wade’s urge to leave, those sandwiches were tasty. Judging by the number of trays still on the counter, there were plenty for this crowd.

“Short for Sherlock, which is perfect for a detective, huh? He was a sheriff’s deputy in Arizona,” she explained. “Yeah, well, then I came on board when I got married. Being a stepmom’s important, and I’d had it with those night shifts—you understand.”

Mouth full, Wade nodded.

“Mike’s brought in some new clients and we’re stretched thin,” she went on. “Fraudulent insurance claims, attorneys needing evidence, companies doing background checks on new hires. Dull stuff, but it pays the bills. You could work on your P.I. license under his supervision.”

“Just got it,” Wade said.

“Perfect!” Scrounging in her pocket, Patty withdrew a business card. “There’s the office number. I’ll tell Mike to expect your call.”

“Pushy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, although she was only a few inches shorter than him.

“Always.”

Wade took the card. Fact Hunter Investigations. Who’d have imagined he’d ever consider working there? “Maybe I will.”

“Good seeing you.” She reclaimed the tray. “Reggie’s a cute little dude.”

“I think so, too.”

As he ducked out, it occurred to Wade that his father hadn’t bothered to mention the sale of the agency. Surely he’d heard about it, if only afterward.

It would be a stroke of luck finding a position in Safe Harbor. Being a father was a complicated business, Wade could see. Living near Reg’s friends and aunt would mean not having to tear his son away from familiar surroundings. They’d be able to get acquainted gradually, building a relationship step-by-step.

Things looked promising. A little too promising. In Wade’s experience, the minute you got comfortable, matters exploded in your face.

All the same, he might give Mike Aaron a call.

* * *

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE a clue he was coming?” Harper asked as she and Adrienne tossed out the last dropped teddy-bear grahams and torn pieces of party hat.

The other parents had helped clean up, too, so there wasn’t much left to do. With Stacy tiring easily due to her pregnancy, Adrienne had sent her and Cole home.

Mia and Reggie had carted his gifts to his room. The pair, who acted more like brother and sister than friends, was playing happily with all those new toys, judging by the squeals and giggles drifting from the upstairs window.

“We’re meeting with the attorney tomorrow to set some ground rules.” Since Adrienne didn’t care to discuss Wade further, even with a close friend, she changed the subject. “You’re sure you want to plan the wedding outdoors? The weather can be tricky in late November.” While Southern California enjoyed mild winters, that didn’t preclude rain.

Concerned about the cost of a wedding, Harper and Peter had discussed asking his parents, who lived inland, to hold it at their house. But their place was fairly small, so Adrienne had offered up hers. She enjoyed seeing her home full of friends.

“I prefer a garden setting, and if we keep everything outside, there’s less cleanup.” Since it was the second wedding for both bride and groom, they were taking an informal approach. The guest list was short, and the only members of the wedding party would be Peter’s father as best man and Mia as flower girl. Instead of a white gown, Harper had selected a knee-length dress in autumnal shades: golden-yellow, tawny-brown and red-orange.

“Of course, we can move inside if necessary,” Adrienne mused.

“You’re incredibly thoughtful.” Harper dropped a lump of hardening Play-Doh into the trash bag. “Some people prefer to reserve Black Friday for their Christmas shopping.” They’d scheduled the wedding for the day after the holiday.

“I’d rather be with friends.” Prowling across the grass, Adrienne retrieved a crumpled teddy-bear birth certificate. The kids had filled them out for their stuffed animals.

“You do have plans for Thanksgiving dinner, right?” Harper asked. “We’re going to eat with Peter’s parents. You’d both be welcome, I’m sure.”

“I’m on duty that night. But yes, we have plans.” Those involved treating her nephew to supper at a favorite restaurant, after which he’d join his sitter and her family. While it was painful being away from him, someone had to deliver the babies. Also, the trade-off was that Adrienne didn’t have to work Christmas Eve or Christmas night.

“If you’re sure...” Harper stopped as childish voices drifted from an upstairs window.

“Don’t open that!” Reggie shouted.

“I want to play with it,” Mia answered stubbornly.

“No way! My dad gave me that.”

His dad. The boy had already accepted Wade in that role. It hurt, even though Adrienne knew that fathers were important. Reg used to cling to Mia’s father, Sean. His death in an off-road vehicle accident had been hard on them all. Recently, Peter and Cole had grown close to Reggie, but they were both still busy adjusting to their new families and had limited time.

So many losses. Maybe she ought to be grateful that Wade seemed eager to step in, but she didn’t trust him.

“I let you play with stuff my dad gives me,” Mia responded. Although the little girl treasured the memory of her late father, she’d begun referring to Peter as her dad.

“Put it down!” Reggie sounded on the verge of a meltdown.

“Okay, okay.”

“Overtired,” Adrienne assessed. “Let’s call it a day.”

“Good idea.” Harper waved to Peter, who’d just emerged from stowing tables and chairs in a storage room that opened directly to the yard. “Let’s go scrape Mia off the carpet.”

Soon they were gone. In the kitchen, Adrienne paused to center herself. The refrigerator hummed as if happy to be stuffed with leftovers. On a rack above the old stove, light gleamed off the copper pots and pans that she rarely used. But they’d been there as long as Adrienne could remember, and she treasured them.

With a jolt, the attorney’s statement came back to her. Wade could lay claim to Reggie’s half of this house if he chose to, and its contents, as well. Adrienne wasn’t even close to paying off her medical school debts. There was no way she could buy him out.

He hasn’t asked for anything yet. She’d have to be on her guard, though. All the more because of Wade’s undeniably appealing masculinity, which had—much as she disliked admitting it—stirred a tantalizing physical awareness.

Good job being attracted to the wrong guy, Adrienne. Again.

After a disastrous engagement during her residency, she’d sworn off men for a while. Then, during her mother’s final illness nearly four years ago, she’d moved in to this house to help Vicki and Reggie. Between her work schedule and their needs, Adrienne lacked the emotional energy to pursue a relationship. Not that she’d been tempted by anyone.

And she wasn’t tempted now, not on any serious level. Especially since she had no idea what would happen when they met with the attorney tomorrow. Once Wade had a chance to reflect about this house and its obvious value, would he remain civil or would he show a different, greedy side?

She hoped he wasn’t that kind of person, for her nephew’s sake as well as hers. Like it or not, Reggie’s father was going to loom large in his son’s emotional landscape.

Rapid footsteps—Reggie rarely moved at any speed slower than high gear—prepared her for his arrival in the kitchen. Instead of his favorite stuffed animal or the tablet computer he used for educational games and homework, he carried the police station still wrapped in plastic.

“You want to build that in the family room?” she asked.

He clutched it tighter. “I’m saving it till my dad can play with me. On my birthday!”

Again, the word dad shook her, a reminder of what Wade’s arrival meant: that nothing would ever be the same, that they’d have to work out an arrangement. As for the possibility of losing Reg entirely, Adrienne refused to dwell on that. Because she’d fight this man with everything she had, if it came to that.

“Okay.” She hadn’t planned any particular activities for Tuesday beyond a special early dinner. Her office hours started at 6:00 p.m. on Tuesdays, so even on Reggie’s birthday, she had to drop him at the sitter’s by 5:30 p.m.

Wade might not be thrilled about sandwiching his visit between Reggie’s return from school and Adrienne’s departure, but... What was it he’d said? I’d prefer just the two of us.

Despite the urge to maintain tight control, she recognized that doing so might antagonize the man. Maybe she should allow an unsupervised visit. Surely Wade could be trusted to deliver his son to Mary Beth Ellroy’s house at a reasonable hour.

Reggie broke into her reflections. “What’s for dinner, Aunt Addie?”

“Aren’t you stuffed?” She hadn’t kept track of what he’d eaten earlier, though. In his excitement, he might have left most of the food on his plate.

“I’m hungry.”

Time to turn back into Mommy, Adrienne thought as she opened the refrigerator. “Lots of sandwiches and veggies, and cake and ice cream for dessert.”

“Yay!” Her nephew pulled his step stool from under the sink and stood on it to retrieve his favorite plate and cup from a cabinet. Slightly chipped, they belonged to a beloved set that had been in the family for generations.

Sooner or later everything would belong to Reggie. Unable to have children of her own, Adrienne had taken for granted that he would grow up here, secure in her love and his inheritance.

A pang twisted through her. I won’t lose him. I can’t.

She ducked her head, refusing to let Reg see her distress. Tomorrow she and Reg’s father were meeting with the attorney.

She just hoped Wade Hunter didn’t intend to spring any unpleasant surprises.

* * *

AFTER THE AIRINESS of the Cavill house, Daryl’s apartment felt cramped and dark. Wade didn’t mind the worn furniture and nearly bare shelves, which he dusted before putting away the food he’d bought, yet he couldn’t help contrasting the place to Adrienne’s comfortable home.

When he’d imagined bringing his son to live with him, he’d had a vague idea about them settling into a buddy-type relationship, the way he and Daryl had during his teen years, after Mom had left. The reality of a six-year-old boy was another matter entirely.

“Sorry about the food situation,” remarked his father. “Working two jobs, I don’t have time to cook.” The oil stains on Daryl’s hands testified to the weekdays he put in as a mechanic at Phil’s Garage, in addition to his duties as apartment manager.

“You eat mostly fast food?” That might explain his father’s thick waistline and sallow complexion.

“While you fix three-course meals?”

“I try out a recipe now and then.” Wade also stocked salad fixings. Still, he was hardly a model of healthy nutrition, he conceded as he arranged boxes of cereal and pasta along with canned food.

“Those for your kid?”

“I wasn’t planning to...” He stopped. Bringing Reggie here struck him as a bad idea, or at least an awkward one, yet the boy should meet his grandfather. “Listen, his birthday’s Tuesday. You interested in getting together?”

Conflicting emotions played across the deep-etched lines of Daryl’s face. “That’s a lot for the kid to take in, considering he’s only just met his father.”

“So?” Wade wasn’t sure why he pressed the issue, since he didn’t relish introducing his father to Adrienne at this touchy stage of their negotiations. But Reggie was part of two families. He’d been kept away from this side of his heritage too long.

“That woman drove you out of town.” Daryl’s lip curled.

“Vicki?” Wade said. “She’s dead.”

“Yeah, well, I lost my grandson and in a lot of ways my son. Now suddenly I’m supposed to turn into warm, cuddly Grandpa. I’m not sure I have it in me.”

Wade couldn’t argue. While he used to wish he and his father were closer, Daryl kept his emotional barriers raised. “You didn’t act like it was a big deal when I left.”

“I’m not saying it was a big deal.” His father opened the fridge and reached for a beer. His fingers curled, and he chose an orange soda instead.

“Okay. We won’t rush it with Reggie.”

“How about the old man?” That was Daryl’s way of referring to Grandpa Bruce. “I’m sure he’d love having a great-grandson. You never told him about the boy, did you?”

“No. You didn’t, either?”

“I figured it was your call.”

“He had a low enough opinion of me without adding unwed father to the list.” Although Wade and his grandfather had still been on speaking terms when Wade left Safe Harbor, their relationship had always been tinged with criticism and blame.

Despite above-average grades, Wade hadn’t been a good enough student to please Grandpa. The truth was, he’d been distracted by the turmoil at home. There’d been his parents’ divorce, his mother’s death and Daryl’s moody nature. Also, some late-night calls to pick up his father when Daryl was too inebriated to get behind the wheel.

When Bruce heard about one such rescue, he’d accused his grandson of enabling Daryl’s drinking. While that might have been true, a son owed his dad loyalty. Plus, by preventing Daryl from driving under the influence, Wade had kept his only remaining parent out of jail. So when Vicki’s pregnancy had come to light, Wade had assumed Grandpa would see that as yet another example of his weak character.

Thinking about his grandfather reminded him of Patty’s news. “How come you never mentioned that Grandpa sold Fact Hunter?”

Moving to the living room, Daryl sank onto the couch. “You guys were on the outs, so why bother?”

Wade followed him in. “Now that I’m here, he’s sure to find out about my son. I should tell him before he hears it somewhere else.”

“It’s up to you.”

“How’s his health?” In his mid-seventies, Bruce Hunter suffered from a bad cough due to years of smoking.

“Good enough for him to have a girlfriend.” Daryl’s finger tapped the TV remote. “He brings his car into the garage, and she picked him up once.”

“What’s she like?”

“Female.” He clicked on the TV and switched channels to watch a football game.

That ended that discussion. Wade went to fetch the laundry. The conversation had reminded him of how far he’d strayed from his family. Now that he was becoming a father in every sense of the word, it was time to mend fences.

Whether his grandfather was willing to bury the hatchet, however, remained to be seen.

Chapter Four

From the parking lot, Fact Hunter Investigations looked much as Wade remembered it, with a few modest upgrades. In the windows of the second-floor office, almond-colored blinds had replaced his grandfather’s gold curtains, while on the street-level door, the firm’s name had been stenciled in a more modern font. The entrance, which led directly to a staircase, was wedged between two other establishments: the Sexy Over Sixty Gym and, where an escrow office used to be, an electronics repair shop.

He recalled that the stairs were steep, with a freight elevator available for the handicapped. However, Grandpa used to say that most clients preferred to conduct business by phone and the internet or to have a detective pay an office or home visit.

Once, the prospect of entering that building as an employee had loomed like a prison sentence. He associated P.I. agencies with retired or partially disabled officers, not young men eager for the challenges of police work. Plus, the idea of being under his grandfather’s thumb would have been enough to send Wade fleeing even had he not already held the position in Pine Tree.

Now Bruce’s ownership was gone, and so was the job up north. Wade had emailed his résumé to Mike Aaron last night and to his surprise had received an immediate response inviting him to drop by for an interview. “Just phone first,” the new co-owner had written.

Wade’s hand went to his pocket, cupping the bulge of his mobile. And missing the weight of his service weapon.

He wasn’t ready to place the call. Instead, he put the car in gear and drove out of the lot, heading south toward the ocean.

Bruce Hunter’s condominium complex occupied bluffs above the harbor. Emerging from his sports coupe, Wade drew in a deep breath of salt air and tilted his face to the autumn sunlight. Seagulls mewed overhead, while below the bluffs traffic hummed along a highway. Less than a quarter mile farther south, boats bobbed at anchor in neat rows extending from a curving wharf. A few sails dotted the waters of the harbor.

He’d missed living near the ocean. While Pine Tree’s mountainous locale had provided a beautiful setting for hiking and exploring, this was Wade’s native habitat. All the same, he was far from certain of his welcome.

Dropping in unannounced might be tempting fate or, more likely, his grandfather’s temper. Wade might even catch the old man in an embarrassing position with this new girlfriend. Wouldn’t that be interesting?

Someone had propped open the gate. Amused to find Grandpa Bruce occupying a complex with such lax security, Wade followed a walkway to the old man’s two-story unit and pressed the bell.

No response. He tried again and still heard nothing stirring. Where would his grandfather be at 10:00 a.m. on a Monday? Wade couldn’t picture Grandpa hanging around a seniors’ center.

From behind a screen of bushes, the thump of rubber-soled shoes reached his ears. Bruce Hunter came into view, sweat darkening his California Angels T-shirt and athletic shorts hanging loose on the old man’s bony frame. Gray hair laced with black clung to his scalp.

He slowed his pace, studying Wade coolly. “Figured you’d drop by sooner or later.” His voice had a dry rasp.

“Daryl told you I was here?”

His grandfather took out his key. “Nope. This is a small town.”

Wade stepped aside, disappointed at losing the element of surprise. As usual, Bruce had the upper hand.

The door opened into a living room almost military in its neatness. The brown couch and tan carpet were freshly vacuumed, while the carved wooden cabinets and chest were buffed to a sheen. They had belonged to Wade’s grandmother, who’d brought them from Germany when she married.

Karlotta Hunter had been buried before he was born, so he knew little of her except that she’d met Bruce while he was stationed in her country and had died when their son was in college. The official story was that she’d awakened late at night, tripped on the staircase, fallen and hit her head. The unofficial story, from Daryl, was that due to her unhappy marriage, she’d taken to drink, which had contributed to the accident.

Alcoholism ran deep in this family. It had skipped Bruce, although he had his own compulsion: chain-smoking. Apparently he’d quit, though, since the place no longer reeked of tobacco.

Wade settled on a polite greeting. “You look well.”

“I look dirty and smell worse.” His grandfather started up the steps. “Help yourself to coffee. There’s no beer.”

At 10:00 a.m.? The old man was assuming the worst, but Wade didn’t bother to correct him. “Thanks.”

He took his coffee black in a souvenir mug from Catalina Island. From a day trip with the girlfriend, perhaps? Over the buffet in the dining room, Wade studied the array of framed photos, hoping for a glimpse of the new lady, but these were all familiar faces.

Grandma Karlotta had sad eyes and old-fashioned braids wrapped around her head. A young black-haired Bruce stood stiffly erect in his blue dress marine uniform. Daryl at about the same age sported a combat utility uniform, better known as camouflage. At his college graduation, Wade posed in mortarboard and gown. There was no picture of Wade’s mother.

Upstairs the shower ran for about a minute, followed by a brief fit of coughing. It ended quickly and sounded less alarming than in the old days.

Bruce descended within minutes, his pants and shirt pressed, his hair slick. “Guess you’ve got some news for me,” he said without preamble.