Chapter Twenty-Two
Hunter knocked on Ross Hardy’s door around eleven thirty. “Hey, Ross. Just checking to make sure things went smoothly this morning with Jenna and my sister.”
“So far, so good. Jenna just took Gentry to get her set up at a workstation.” Ross stood and extended his hand. “I meant to stop by yesterday to congratulate you. Great job. I’m glad we won’t be absorbed by Pure. Let me know when you want to talk about hiring needs if this thing with King Cola happens.”
“It might be good to get together sooner than later. The head of KC’s business development is coming here next week to negotiate preliminary terms and partnership ideas for the venture. I’m guessing they’d handle all the manufacturing and distribution, but we’d need to staff the executives, especially marketing and brand-development folks. Why don’t you and Bethany get together with Haru and block out some time on my calendar on Monday?”
“Will do.”
Hunter nodded and then left, pausing at the stairwell between their offices that led downstairs to where the marketing team worked. He knew, for the sake of his family, he’d have to find a way to get over his bitterness toward Gentry.
She’d meant well when she’d proposed the adoption. She hadn’t set out to devastate him and Sara. It was her baby, and he’d always known she might change her mind. It had to have been painful for her to wrestle with her doubts. To face him and Sara and rob them of the hope she’d initially given them. Logically he knew this, but his heart couldn’t quite catch up to his brain.
He needed to stop viewing her as a mini Jenna. To see her as his sister, just as much as Colby, and to build a relationship with her that counted.
He trotted down the stairs and found her seated at a workstation near Jenna’s office, slurping a large glass of OJ. “Hey.”
Gentry looked up from the paperwork she was filling out. He saw his own discomfort reflected in her face. “Am I in trouble already?”
“No.” He glanced around, all too aware of others’ eyes and ears. “Walk with me for a second.”
“You’re the boss.” She stood. In heels, she was only a couple of inches shorter than he was. He wondered if she’d be able to stroll around in that kind of footwear once her belly started getting big.
If Sara did come back to stay, it would be hard for her to watch. His heart ached for his wife every time he acknowledged that she’d never experience pregnancy. And he wondered how he’d feel when his niece or nephew was born, knowing that it might’ve become his son or daughter.
Shaking off those thoughts, he led Gentry to a small conference room and then sat back against the table and crossed his arms and legs. “I want to thank you again for voting with me. I also want to warn you that you’ll have a hard time winning over your coworkers. Given your lack of degree and experience, many will resent you. Even if you had those things, some would still say you only got this job because of your last name.”
“Gee, great pep talk, bro.” She gave him a little “Go get ’em” punch.
“I’m being serious, Gentry. I’m trying to help you, so drop the act and listen. If you want to succeed, make friends, and win respect, you’ll have to come in early, stay late, and solve your problems without leaning on your mom. I’d suggest you try to get Becky Miller to mentor you. She’s got a few years’ experience on you, so it’d be a good fit. If you can find ways to make her job easier for her, you’ll become invaluable. Understand?”
“Are you sure you’re trying to help me?” She crossed her arms. “’Cause it sounds like you’re trying to scare me into quitting.”
“I’m being as helpful and honest and brotherly as I know how. You’re going to have to work twice as hard to prove yourself. I know, because I’ve been in your shoes. I worked my ass off, and it still took time before people believed I’d earned those promotions.”
“Okay. I’ll prove myself to everyone, including you. I know you don’t trust me much, and I guess I can’t blame you.” She met his gaze, which had to be hard.
He gripped the table at his hips. “Let’s not talk about the adoption. It is what it is, and I’ll eventually be happy for you and your baby. I just need more time.”
“I am sorry that I hurt you and Sara and caused her to take off.”
“Much as I’d love to blame you, I can’t. Sara and I have stuff to work out that has nothing to do with you.” Having said more about his marriage than he’d intended, he pushed away from the table and dismissed his sister. “Now get on back and finish up whatever I interrupted.”
She turned to go, then whirled around and hugged him—a quick, silent hug, except for the jangling from her multitude of bangle bracelets. After flashing a lopsided grin, she ducked out of the conference room.
Extending an olive branch of sorts hadn’t been as hard as he’d thought. It had been the right thing to do . . .
In fact, for his dad’s sake, he needed to go one step further. Inhaling, he girded himself before going to Jenna’s office.
“What?” She glanced up from her computer screen.
He closed the door and took a seat. “We need a truce.”
She blinked. “How generous, now that you’ve won.”
“I’m serious, Jenna. We don’t have to pretend to understand or even like each other, but we have to stop picking fights. For Dad and for Gentry.”
Jenna sat back, her gaze glued to his. “Why now?”
“Dad’s sick. Gentry’s pregnant. I’m tired.” He leaned forward. “Aren’t you tired?”
“You’ve been at me for at least a decade. Sorry if I have a hard time trusting this about-face.”
“Jenna, let’s be completely honest. I’ll admit that I’ve been a bastard at times, but you admit you haven’t been the warmest stepmom. When Colby and I were children, you never even embraced us for Gentry’s sake. I’ve always assumed you just wanted my dad for yourself. Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong, but it doesn’t matter. The bottom line is, like it or not, we’re a family . . . a screwed-up one, but still a family. It’s done neither or us, nor the people we love, any good to be at each other’s throats, so let’s lay down our swords.”
Jenna stared at him for a minute. “I’ll make an effort if you do.”
“Okay. I’ll let you give my dad the good news.” He almost made a quip about her probably taking credit for the détente, but then reminded himself of the promise he’d just made.
“Thank you.” She stood when he did.
He saw no reason to hug. Maybe one day this truce would lead to actual warmth, but he couldn’t fake something he didn’t feel. He simply nodded and headed back toward his office.
He planned to work through lunch today so that he could leave early, pick up flowers and dinner, and be home before Sara arrived.
On his way back up to his office, he considered the compromises he could offer Sara to convince her to give them another chance. The King Cola deal would be critical to his success, and starting up a new venture meant a lot of work. Right now he was juggling the CEO and CFO jobs. If his dad couldn’t come back soon, Hunter would need Ross to search for a new CFO. In the interim, he’d have to delegate more to Bethany and Jenna, God help him.
But he would do all that and make better use of his time at home. Maybe Sara would bike with him and Alec. He’d ban working on Sundays as much as possible and let her set the agenda. He’d even squeeze in time at the Angel House with her once a month, if possible.
He’d go back to the beginning and woo her all over again.
He was passing Haru on his way into his office when she stopped him. “I have someone from Trident Realty on hold.”
It took him a minute to recall that name. The apartment he’d rented for Pam and Ty. This couldn’t be good news. “I’ll take it.”
He went to his desk and picked up the line. “Hello, this is Hunter Cabot.”
“Mr. Cabot, this is Bill Hitson, the building manager at Bridgetown Gardens. I’m sorry to call, but your name is on the lease for unit one seventeen, and your business card was also on the refrigerator.”
“Is there a problem?” Of all days to be thrown a curveball by Pam, for Pete’s sake.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but your friend is dead, and your son is here alone.” The man’s accusatorial tone galled Hunter.
“He’s not my son. They were just people we were helping.” He waited for an apology that never came.
“Well, I’ve called the coroner.” Skepticism lingered in his voice. “Based on the paraphernalia, it looks like a possible overdose. I need to know what to do with the boy. The cops will probably have questions about the drugs, too.”
Holy hell. He racked his mind for any information Sara had given about Ty and Pam but came up empty. He’d have to contact the Angel House. “I’m not familiar with her family situation or her drug dealer, but perhaps someone at the shelter where she’d been staying previously would know. Any idea how long she’s been dead?”
“Can’t be sure. It probably happened through the night. I let myself in because the neighbors were complaining about the kid crying all morning.”
Sara would be beside herself when she learned of Ty’s trauma. “I’ll be right there. Don’t let them take the child.”
“I can’t make promises.”
“Understood.” Hunter hung up and headed out the door. “Haru, I won’t be back today. Cancel all my calls and meetings. Make my apologies. There’s an emergency I need to take care of. I’ll call later.”
His mind and heart were speeding at a hundred miles per hour, thinking about the child who’d been sitting alone with his dead mother, confused and afraid. About how life could cruelly change without warning. How, despite Sara’s urging, he’d been more or less blind to the hopelessness—the powerlessness—that people like Pam must feel to do drugs, or those like his brother-in-law had when taking their lives.
He’d been blind to his sister’s marital problems. Blind to Mark’s depression. Blind to Gentry’s loneliness. Christ, he’d been blind to the significance of his own wife’s needs.
And now a defenseless little boy’s future was at stake. A future Hunter could shape if he chose to get involved. Hope he could restore—security he could provide—for one person. A purpose loftier than any of the goals he had for CTC. He nearly pulled over to handle the wash of emotion that poured over him, his body trembling from the onslaught.
By the time he arrived at the apartment complex, the police and members of the coroner’s office were there. Hunter entered the apartment, searching for Ty, but a portly female officer blocked him just inside the entry. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Ty, the little boy. Is he still here?” He looked over the officer’s shoulder into the small living room.
“DHS took him.”
“Dammit.”
She raised an eyebrow. “They thought it best to get him out of this environment as fast as possible.”
Made sense, but it didn’t help Hunter’s immediate dilemma. He turned to go, thinking about whom to contact at DHS to get information, but the cop stopped him again. “Hold up, sir. We have some questions.”
“Get in line.” When she pulled a sour face, he peered at her name tag. “Officer Folino,” he began, putting a hand to his chest, “I don’t have answers.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Let’s start with your name.”
Shit. “Hunter Cabot.”
“How well did you know the victim”—she briefly looked at her clipboard—“Pam Wendell?”
“Not well at all. My wife volunteered at a local shelter, the Angel House, which is where she met Pam and Ty. We decided to help them until Pam could save some money from her new waitressing job. I briefly spoke with Gloria, the director at the Angel House, but she couldn’t provide any detailed family history. She said Pam cut ties with her family some time ago and didn’t give Gloria further details.”
“So you don’t know where she got the heroin?” The officer made a note on her clipboard.
“No idea. Again, I was told she was clean and sober. I haven’t been here since the day I dropped her off.” He crossed his arms, his patience beginning to fray. “Now, may I please go and find out where they’ve taken the boy? My wife will be worried about him.”
Officer Folino glanced toward the other officer, who was speaking with the coroner in the apartment. “We may have more questions for you.”
“Fine. Here’s my card. Call or come by anytime.”
She eyed the card. “Okay, go. But don’t leave town.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Hunter jogged back to his car and scrolled through his contacts, looking for the number of Joyce Douglas, the woman who had come to do the SAFE home inspection. He got her voice mail. “Ms. Douglas, this is Hunter Cabot. You met my wife, Sara, and me several weeks ago when you came to our home in Lake Sandy to do an inspection as part of our application to be foster parents. I’m sorry to trouble you today, but I’ve got an urgent request and don’t know who else to call.
“DHS just picked up a toddler in Clackamas named Tyrell Wendell because his mom OD’d. My wife has a relationship with that child from when she volunteered at a local shelter where he and his mom had lived for a time. I’d like to get some information about where he is now. We’d finished our classes, and I think we’re certified to be temporary custodians, which is what I’d like to do. Can you please call me back?”
He sat in his car, staring at his phone, willing it to ring. Goddamn it, he hated waiting on others. He pressed his hands to his thighs to stop his knees from bouncing.
Hunter had to get Ty placed with them. He stared at his phone. Apparently, Ms. Douglas didn’t check her messages regularly. He might as well do something productive while waiting for her call.
An hour later, he walked out of Target with a car seat, toddler clothes, and some books and toys. He’d finished wrangling the seat into his car when his phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Cabot? This is Joyce Douglas returning your call.”
“Thanks for getting back to me.” Never one to let niceties impede expediency, he asked, “Did you locate the child?”
“Yes. He’s at the North Clackamas branch with a social worker named Ruth Matthews. They’re trying to determine whether he has any relatives in the area.”
“I’m of the understanding that he doesn’t have family, which is how he and his mom ended up in a shelter. In that case, my wife and I would be happy to foster-parent him.” Sara might not even want to stay married to him, but time was of the essence, so Hunter needed to play a bit of chess.
“I’ll make a note of that and let Ms. Matthews know.”
Not good enough. “Will she call me today?”
“It may take a little longer, but we will be in touch.”
Still not good enough. “Today? Because you have all of our information. Wouldn’t the child’s best interests be served by placing him with someone familiar after this trauma?”
“Of course, but we need to verify certain things first.”
Bureaucracy. “Of course. I’ll wait to hear from you. Please call me on this number as soon as you know more.”
He sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, watching moms and kids load in and out of cars. Because he rarely left the office during the week, it surprised him to see so much life going on all around him in the middle of a weekday afternoon.
One young mother hauled an irate toddler out of a shopping cart while she struggled to open the side door of her minivan. The boy’s little legs kicked her, but she barely reacted, looking like she’d done that a thousand times or more.
How would Ty respond to life with him and Sara? The poor kid had been born with an addiction, suffered from a speech delay, and now had lost the only parent he’d probably ever known. What kind of start was that? Would he ever accept Hunter and Sara as parents?
Of all his goals and accomplishments, this would surely be the biggest and most important challenge he’d ever taken on. And the only one that he’d ever felt unqualified to handle.
Sara, on the other hand, was eminently qualified. She deserved to raise this little boy. She’d done research to help him with his speech. She’d spent weeks trying to get close to him. No other foster parent would have that bond.
Hell, he hated red tape, and he was done sitting around waiting for what he wanted.
Thirty minutes later, he sat in an uncomfortable metal chair while his nerves crawled under his skin. Government offices always had the same look and smell: stark, a bit dingy, not nearly enough natural light.
“He didn’t seem to recognize you, Mr. Cabot.” Ms. Matthews was searching for his and Sara’s DHS application file. She wasn’t rude, but she didn’t move fast enough for him.
“I already told you his relationship is with my wife, not me. But our application is complete and approved. Ms. Douglas was supposed to call you. We’re qualified to be foster parents. There’s no reason for Ty to end up with strangers when there’s another option.”
“I appreciate your feelings, but we’re still trying to verify that he doesn’t have other family.” Another firm reply. He wasn’t going to get around her.
He edged to the front of his chair. “How long will that take?”
“I don’t know.” She set her hands on the desk. “Where’s your wife?”
“On her way back from Sacramento.” The less said about that trip the better. “She’s been visiting family, but I expect her home for dinner.”
“Well, it’s nearly dinnertime now. Why don’t you go home and I’ll contact you once we’ve done our job. If everything checks out, we can bring him over tonight or tomorrow.”
“If Ms. Wendell and Ty had other family, wouldn’t the Angel House or other hospitals or something have that information? Both have intake procedures with emergency contact info.”
“I promise I’ll work on it as fast as I can.” She studied the screen. “I see that your paperwork just came through. Listen, I know you’re anxious, but I can’t rush the process. We have guidelines in place to ensure that the children are protected. I have your card and your address. I’ll update you as soon as possible.”
He stood, recognizing defeat. “I’ll be waiting. Thanks.”
It was almost five. He was going to be late for Sara, and he’d have to give her the bad news about Pam without the promise of good news.
Sara pulled into the garage at four thirty, having left Sacramento before eight because she’d awakened early. Hunter hadn’t expected her until five, but she’d hoped he’d be here waiting for her like he’d promised. She told herself not to be disappointed that, yet again, he’d lost track of time at work.
She took her suitcase out of the car and let herself into the house. Having been away for a week, the familiar scent of home caught her off guard. Its smell—indescribable except for the hint of lavender cleaning products—was a weird but comforting scent. Definitely better than the wet dog odor in Lisa’s tiny house and the cooking oil aroma of Mimi’s.
Sara left her bag in the mudroom and walked into the kitchen. No dishes in the sink. No grime on the stove. He’d probably eaten every meal out. Or not at all. Unlike her, he’d never been a stress eater.
Launching a new division without his dad’s help would mean he’d be busier than ever before. If she asked him to give that all up for her, he’d only resent her later. Besides, loving him should mean supporting his goals. Mimi had been right about a few things, including the fact that Sara had to take some responsibility for her own happiness instead of expecting Hunter to sacrifice his dreams just because her biggest one didn’t come true.
She stood at the sink, staring into the gloaming at the moss-colored lake below. Leafless branches crisscrossed one another, obscuring some of the view. Crisp, dry leaves gathered in the corners of the stone retaining walls that stopped things from sliding down the cliff, and some made a nest in the fire pit. It had been months since they’d lit that up and sat beneath the stars.
She found a lighter and went through the glass doors to the patio, collected twigs and other kindling to add to the dry leaves, threw two logs on top, and lit it up. The crackling sound and smoky air immediately unwound her. Wine would help, too, so she went inside to see what they had. She’d just crouched to open the wine refrigerator when Hunter came through the garage door.
He stopped, his face lit with relief. Softly, he said, “Hey.”
She stood with the refrigerator door open, feeling as awkward as someone on a blind date. “Hi.”
“You beat me.”
“Not by much.” She gestured toward the patio. “I started a fire.”
He took two steps, halted, then came forward with his arms extended to envelop her in his tight embrace. “I missed you.”
She hugged him, inhaling his scent, luxuriating in the familiar warmth and strength of his body. They clung to each other in silence, almost as if either was afraid to speak. She had so much to say yet didn’t know where to begin. Before she had the chance, he started.
“I have a lot to tell you about what’s gone on, what’s going on, and what might be happening in the near future. I know I’m not perfect—I’ll never be perfect—but I can do better. I hope . . .”
“Slow down.” She cupped his cheek. “How about we pour some wine and sit outside while we talk. I actually have some things I want to say first, if that’s okay.”
He glanced at the clock, then said, “Whatever you want.”
He chose a red without looking, pulled the cork, and poured them each a glass, then followed her to the patio.
Above the trees, the first stars of the evening twinkled in the sky, offering her the chance to make a secret wish for a new start. They sat side by side in the Adirondack chairs. He swirled his wine round and round, taut face straining to smile, which wasn’t a surprise. He had no idea what she wanted to say.
She gulped some wine, took a deep breath, and waded in. “First, I want to apologize for the way that I left.”
“Sara—”
“No, wait. No matter how upset and hurt I felt that morning, taking off was hardly helpful. I could blame you, Gentry, and God, but I’m responsible for my own actions, and I’m sorry.”
“Forgiven.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, glass still in hand. “My turn?”
“Not yet.” She rubbed her hands along the chair’s arms. “Despite the way I left, the trip did me some good. I needed time with my family, my sisters. You know I love being with Daisy and Betsy, but more importantly, my sisters and I talked a lot about life, marriage, kids—everything.”
“They think you should leave me.” He stated it as fact instead of a question.
“Actually, no. They made me take a hard look at myself and the fact that I wasn’t taking any blame for our problems.” When he raised his eyebrows, she continued. “So while I still want you to invest more time in our marriage and to share more with me, I think maybe I’ve been expecting you to do the impossible. You can’t take away my grief over the way my body has failed me and us and our dreams for children, yet somehow I wanted you to put everything on hold and solve that for me.
“I’m the only one who can come to terms with my limitations and accept that the future will be different than I’d thought. Maybe counseling will get me over the hump. In the meantime, I need to go back to working full-time so I feel useful and productive. On that note, I thought maybe you’d hire me at CTC now that you need to market a whole new line of products.” She smiled, deciding a little joke might be needed. “I have it on good authority that I’m a wiz at brand management.”
He sat back, wide-eyed. “I didn’t expect that.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
“My turn?” When she nodded, he set his glass on the ground and bore that beautiful gaze of his into hers. “I always suspected I’d be a mess without you, and now I know it’s true. I don’t want a future that you aren’t part of. No matter what your family said, you were right about a lot of things. As much as I’ve always loved you, I’ve taken you for granted in lots of little ways.
“I’ve always known what mattered most to you was family—yours, mine, ours. Yet my behavior toward Jenna hasn’t done the family any good. My ambitions have pulled me away from the people I love, especially you. I can do better. I want to do better—for you and everyone else. I’ll delegate more so I can set aside my weekends for us. Once I get a new team up and running, I’ll keep better work hours during the week, too.”
“If I’m part of that new team, we’d be working together, like your dad and Jenna.” Sara smiled, imagining working side by side with him to launch a new product line. Working toward a common goal would signal a new chapter in their lives.
“A week ago I’d have loved that idea, but now I don’t think it’ll work. That’s got nothing to do with you. It’s just—”
Her heart sank a little. “That’s okay. You don’t need to make excuses. I know marketing is Jenna’s area, and you just hired Gentry. Too much family. Too many unresolved feelings.”
“That’s not it.” He scooted forward and held her hand. “How about you let me finish? I promise—”
Then his phone rang.
“Please don’t get that.” She bit her lip.
“I have to, but I swear you’ll forgive me when you find out why.” He stood and turned away, mumbling into the phone for a few minutes. His voice sounded animated and light when he said, “That’s great. Yes. Yes, we’ll be here. Thank you.”
When he faced her, he had a peculiar smile on his face.
“What?”
He knelt before her, clasped her hands again, and kissed them. “Babe, I have some sad news, but there’s a silver lining.”
“Is your dad okay?” Gosh, she hadn’t even thought about Jed, let alone asked about him.
“He’s about the same, maybe slightly better.” Hunter inhaled deeply. “This is actually about Ty.”
“Ty?” She recoiled, unprepared to handle bad news about that little love. Hunter’s suddenly grave expression didn’t ease her worry.
“I got a call from the apartment super this morning.” He tightened his grip on her hands. “Pam OD’d sometime in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Oh no, Hunter! That poor little baby lost his mother.” Her troubles scattered as her thoughts all ran to wondering what would happen to Ty.
“I know.” He stroked her hair. “I spent all afternoon tracking him down. I requested that DHS place him with us. I didn’t mean to assume you’d give us another chance, but I couldn’t risk waiting . . .”
She went still, blinking at Hunter, who remained kneeling before her. “You tracked him down?”
“That’s why I wasn’t here before you arrived. I’d hoped they’d let me bring him home, but they were still running down leads on any natural family and doing a boatload of paperwork. That was the social worker who’s got Ty. She’ll be bringing him here this evening for the time being.
“They still need more time to search for family, but if that fails, and we want to make it permanent, there will be lots of paperwork, inspections, and court dates. At least, for now, he’ll be safe here with you. So you see, now might not be the best time for you to go back to work full-time.”
She launched from her chair and against his chest, kissing his face and hugging him. “I take back all my complaints about your grand gestures, Hunter Cabot.”
He kept her locked against his rib cage. “I’ll be honest . . . I’m a little nervous. Can you handle it if we can’t keep him forever?”
He eased her away so he could look in her eyes. That unpleasant possibility would be at least as painful as losing the chance to raise Gentry’s baby. Yet she’d survived that blow and the failed IVFs. With help and support, and with Hunter’s unconditional love, she could probably survive anything.
“Yes, because I know we’ll have done our best and made a difference in his life for however long we have him.” She kissed her husband for the first time in a week. He tasted like wine, hope, and hunger. “Thank you for not letting him be handed off to strangers.”
“So you’re staying. You aren’t going back to California?”
“Yes, but not because of Ty. I’m here because I love you and you love me. With work and compromise, we can turn this marriage around and fall even more in love.”
He held her close, swayed side to side. “Not possible for me to be more in love, babe. Since the day I met you, you owned every square inch of my heart.”