Man Of The Family. Leigh Riker
grandchildren.” Which served to remind Sunny of another bone of contention. Her mother never missed an opportunity to remind her of the grandbabies she still yearned for. “They’re not coming back,” she said as if the Richardsons had died. “I miss them, but I think they’re safer there.”
“Hurricanes can hit New England, too,” Sunny pointed out. A clap of thunder brought her upright in her chair. “In the time I’ve lived in New York, we’ve had ice storms, floods, a few blizzards, even a mild earthquake. I wouldn’t say it’s that much safer.”
But her parents’ argument still nagged at her. “My childhood—and Chris’s—was practically idyllic.” Sunny took a deep breath before she could continue. “Good schools, a big yard to play in, lots of birthday parties, long days at the beach, friends, and always the certainty that our family, unlike so many others, would stay intact.” If her mother’s need to keep things on an even keel had sometimes troubled her, Sunny had always felt loved. She’d had her dad’s more laid-back nature for a buffer.
Now her mother seized on the word Sunny wished she hadn’t said.
“Speaking of friends, you should call Laura while you’re here. She still lives in town, you know. I haven’t spoken to her mother in ages but—”
Sunny’s aching back hurt even worse. She was so rigid, her neck was burning. “I doubt we’d have much in common, Mom. We haven’t for a long time.”
“But you were such good friends. What’s the harm? Call her, Sunny.”
“I don’t think so,” she said at last. This was one of the not-so-easy parts about coming back. She gave her mom a smile that didn’t quite work. “Once the roof is fixed, you’ll forget about selling the house. And Dad will find some new interest to pursue.” The whole family called him their Project Man. “Besides, if you left here, you’d be leaving Chris and Bronwyn behind. Not to mention those grandbabies they’ll give you.”
She half smiled. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”
And with that, the subject was closed. For now. Sunny could already see her mother filing their talk away in some far corner of her mind where all the bad things stayed. Another minute, and she’d be bustling about again, planning what to have for dinner or starting to bake brownies.
“By the way, why was Griffin here this morning? He didn’t even come into the kitchen.” She paused. “I didn’t realize you knew each other except from Chris’s wedding.”
Sunny almost groaned. “There was an incident the other day at Bron’s school.” She explained about the stolen watch and pulled it out of her pocket. “He returned this—but I think Amanda should have done that instead and apologized.”
Her mother frowned, the worry lines between her brows deeper than Sunny remembered. “Such a nice girl,” she said. “I can’t believe she’d steal from you.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure she did.”
Her mother sighed. “I know Griffin is trying his best, but Amanda really needs her mother.”
Sunny couldn’t help asking. “Where is she?”
“No one knows. Apparently—and I hate to gossip—once she hit the Boston city line, there was no further trace of her. I know he’s tried to track Rachel but without any luck.” She added, “And as for Amanda—that poor dear.”
That hadn’t been Sunny’s impression, but she resisted the urge to say so. To her, Amanda was like one of the storm clouds outside. “I think she needs more than her mother.” She sighed. “Griffin didn’t welcome my input, though.”
“I’ll talk to Amanda,” her mother said, and Sunny could all but see her making a mental note. “There must be something we can do.”
Sunny was about to answer when the first drops of rain began to fall, and her cell phone rang again. She checked the display. And almost groaned.
“I need to take this,” she murmured.
Her mom’s eyebrows rose. “Nate?” she mouthed, hope in her eyes.
It wasn’t Nate. Instead, Judge Ramsay was looking for her, and a contempt citation in New York wasn’t something Sunny could ignore.
* * *
HE WAS GOING to run away.
One of these days he’d hop in this soccer-mom van and just take off. He’d forget the daily grind at the Palm Breeze Court, complaining tenants like Mrs. Moriarty and the Grump. He’d race along the Florida highways heading for who knew where.
He’d be gone—just like Rachel.
But he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head. You’re the man of the family now.
His small son was in the backseat, staring at the rain-spattered windows. Thanks to the torrential downpour, Griffin could barely see through the windshield.
All at once his left rear tire blew. Josh whimpered at the loud bang, threatening a full-scale panic attack. Griffin flipped on his right signal, then eased the car on to the shoulder. With traffic flying past, he hit the emergency blinker switch.
“It’s okay, buddy,” he told Josh, breathing a little fast himself. He’d never seen rain like this. Florida really knew how to put on the show. In the rearview mirror Griffin could see Josh’s pale face, eyes squinched shut.
“Are we gonna die?”
Griffin’s stomach sank. “No way,” he said. “You wait here. I’ve got to fix that tire.”
Josh began to cry.
“You’ll be fine. Sit tight.”
He opened the door and stepped out into the rain. After his dad had died, Uncle Theo had made sure he knew how to change tires and do a lot of other fix-it jobs. Griffin scrambled in the trunk for the jack, then cranked up the van’s rear end. As he worked in the downpour, he could still hear Josh weeping inside the car.
The latest storm. He hadn’t forgotten his run-in with Sunny, but he needed to. What did she know about trying to get a balky thirteen-year-old girl off to school five days a week without starting another world war? In some other life he might have heeded those tough words about Amanda’s behavior, but right now trying to keep his family, or what was left of it, together was all that counted. If he wasn’t stepping on eggshells around his daughter, he was soothing Josh’s fears.
Griffin tightened the lug nuts on the spare tire, his mouth set. Once, Rachel would have smiled at him in a situation like this, kissed him and teased Josh from his mood, but if she could always do two things at once, he had enough trouble with one.
The traffic whizzed by, rocking the van. No one was slowing down, even under these conditions. He supposed that was because it seemed to rain like crazy every afternoon.
Maybe they were used to it, but he wasn’t. Neither was his son.
“Daddy?” Josh’s voice came through the side window. “I’m really scared.”
“I know you’re scared, Josh. But everything’s under control.” He finished the last nut, wiped his dirty hands on his pants, then got back in the van. “Want me to put on a video?”
“No.”
This was news. The best thing about the van was the twin screens that lowered from the ceiling. “How about Scooby-Doo?”
“No,” Josh said again.
Griffin couldn’t believe his ears. The old series was Josh’s current favorite. That, and the stuffed blue creature from Lilo & Stitch, which he was strangling at the moment in his car seat. He’d gotten it at Disney World with Rachel’s parents the spring before she left home, the week Griffin had been unable to get away from his anchorman duties at the Boston station.
“Take it easy, buddy. Stitch won’t