Chapter 2
When Prissy reached the kitchen doorway an hour later, the scene she encountered could only be described as one of chaotic harmony.
Stan stood at the stove stirring a pot of grits and frying bacon in a pan while quizzing their son, Montana, for a history test.
Magnum was smearing grape jelly on several slices of toast while rapping to his favorite song by the Sugarhill Gang.
Maddox had his nose buried in a Hardy Boys novel, blissfully ignoring Mason’s animated monologue about his football team’s upcoming game.
As Prissy stood there observing her family, a soft, poignant smile curved her lips. These were her men, her heart and soul. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like without them. She prayed to God that she’d never have to find out.
Mason was the first to notice her standing in the doorway. “Hey, Ma,” he called out cheerfully. “Daddy’s making breakfast.”
Prissy’s smile deepened. “I see that.”
As the others turned to look at her, she couldn’t help marveling at the striking resemblance between her husband and sons. All of the boys had inherited Stan’s beautiful dark skin, deep-set eyes and strong, handsome features. Wherever they went, strangers always remarked on the familial resemblance, which was strong enough to turn any skeptic into a staunch believer of human cloning.
As Prissy padded into the large kitchen, Stan’s appreciative gaze roamed over her tailored gray skirt suit, which she wore with a red camisole and a wide belt.
“You look good, baby,” he told her.
“Thank you,” Prissy said, warming with pleasure. No matter what was going on with her husband, it felt good to know that he still found her attractive. “I have a lot of meetings today, so you know I have to look my best.”
“Which you always do,” Stan said with a wink.
Prissy smiled gratefully at him. Reaching the large oak breakfast table where Maddox and Mason were seated, she kissed the top of her sons’ heads before exclaiming to Maddox, “I can’t believe you started that book last night and you’ve almost finished it!”
“It’s good, Ma,” Maddox declared.
“Apparently so. We’ll have to make another trip to the library soon.” Prissy glanced across the room at Magnum. “Boy, how much jelly are you going to put on that toast?”
“What?” He glanced down at the slice of toast in question. “This ain’t too much.”
“Isn’t,” Prissy corrected, crossing the room to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. “And, yes, it is too much.”
Magnum merely grinned.
“I was just about to make the eggs,” Stan told Prissy as she helped herself to some of his strong black coffee—typical firefighter’s brew. “Everything else is ready.”
“Thank you, baby.” Prissy kissed his stubble-roughened jaw and rubbed his broad back. After adding cream and sugar to her coffee, she took a careful sip, eyeing Montana over the rim of her mug. “Ready for the test?”
“I think so.”
Stan cocked a brow at Montana. “You think so?”
The boy grinned weakly, flashing dimples. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Stan nodded approvingly. “That’s more like it.”
Prissy looked around the kitchen, belatedly noticing the absence of her eldest son. “Where’s Manny?”
His brothers exchanged glances and shrugged. “Probably still asleep,” Magnum suggested.
“He’d better not be,” Prissy muttered, setting her mug down on the counter and striding purposefully from the kitchen.
She made her way past the tastefully furnished living room and up the staircase to the second floor. When she reached Manning’s bedroom at the end of the hallway, she knocked on the door.
“Manny?” she called.
There was no answer.
She knocked again. “Manny? Are you awake?”
Silence.
Frowning, Prissy opened the door and poked her head into the shadowy room.
Manning was sprawled across his bed, eyes closed, one long leg dangling crookedly over the side.
Shaking her head in exasperation, Prissy marched over to the bed and shook his shoulder. “Manny, wake—”
He jumped, his dark eyes snapping open. “Ma?”
It was only then that Prissy saw that he was wearing headphones that connected to his Walkman, which was why he hadn’t heard her calling him. “Why haven’t you finished getting dressed?” she fussed, gesturing at his bare chest. “Don’t you know what time it is? You’re gonna miss your bus!”
Manning sat up slowly, plucking the headphones off. “Do I have to go to school today?”
“Of course you do! Why would you ask that?”
When Manning said nothing, Prissy felt his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I know. I just…” He trailed off with a listless shrug. “I just don’t feel like going today.”
Prissy frowned. “Now you know that’s not a good reason for missing school.”
Again Manning shrugged.
With another shake of her head, Prissy strode to the windows and yanked the curtains open. Manning winced as pale sunlight flooded the room, which looked like a tornado had swept through it, leaving clothes, sneakers and books strewn haphazardly across the floor.
Prissy clucked her tongue. “This room is a pigsty! I want it cleaned up when you get home from school today, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Manning mumbled, dragging on a blue sweater over his jeans.
As Prissy headed from the room, she added over her shoulder, “And hurry up so you can eat breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Prissy froze, then turned and stared at her firstborn. She couldn’t have heard right. Manning Wolf never missed a meal. Ever.
She eyed him worriedly. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked, even as she acknowledged that her son wasn’t such a “baby” anymore. At fourteen, he was already six foot one, with broad shoulders and a sprinkling of facial hair. Even his voice was changing, deepening into what would soon become a rich baritone like his father’s. He was morphing into a man right before Prissy’s very eyes.
“Is everything okay at school?” she prodded gently. “I know being a freshman can take some getting used to. And it probably doesn’t help that your mother is the school superintendent.”
Manning grunted noncommittally, bending to tie his huge sneakers.
Watching him, Prissy felt a familiar pang of guilt. Although it had been two years since they moved from Atlanta, she knew that Manning and his brothers were still adjusting to life in Coronado. They missed their old neighborhood, their schools, their friends, and—most of all—their cousins Michael and Marcus. Living in a five-bedroom house with a pool had done little to cure their homesickness. They wanted to go back to Atlanta so badly that Prissy couldn’t help second-guessing her decision to uproot them.
As Manning rose and walked to the dresser, she remarked conversationally, “I heard that Coach Delaney really wants you to play for the basketball team. He even called your daddy at work, hoping he could persuade you to try out for the team.”
“I don’t wanna play basketball,” Manning mumbled, picking out his short afro with a long-toothed comb.
Prissy frowned. “Why not? You played back in Atlanta.”
“It’s not the same here.”
“Really?” Prissy countered wryly. “Do they play basketball by different rules in Coronado?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No? Then what did you mean?”
Manning sighed heavily, meeting her gaze in the dresser mirror. “Look, Ma, I know why you want me to try out for the team. It’s the same reason you have Mason and Magnum playing football, Madd in Boy Scouts, and Monty in the school band. You’re trying to keep us all busy because you think the more activities we’re involved in, the less we’ll miss home.”
Busted, Prissy thought.
“Is it a crime to want the best for my family?” she countered defensively. “The reason I took the superintendent job was to give you and your brothers a better quality of life than we had in Atlanta. Someday when you’re a parent faced with making difficult decisions for your family, you’ll understand why I made the choice that I did.”
She watched as Manning stalked over to his bed, snatched his backpack off the floor and began shoving books inside.
She heaved a weary sigh. “We’ve been living here for over two years, Manny. Like it or not, this is your home now.”
“No, Ma,” he said quietly, shaking his head at her. “This might be where we live, but it will never be home.”
Prissy held his gaze for a long moment, then turned and left without another word.
After walking his youngest sons to the bus stop and seeing them off, Stan returned to the house and cleaned up the kitchen. On his days off from work, he always tried to help out around the house so Prissy wouldn’t feel taken for granted. The woman did everything, balancing the demands of her job with cooking, cleaning, washing laundry, checking homework, carpooling, planning birthday parties and faithfully attending parent–teacher conferences. Stan and the boys would be lost without her.
Which was why he felt so damn guilty for deceiving her.
He knew he should come clean and tell her the truth about everything.
But he couldn’t.
And that made him a bigger coward than he cared to admit.
As soon as Prissy and Manning left the house, Stan grabbed the phone and placed a call. When a woman’s smooth voice came on the line, he said quietly, “Hi, this is Stan.”
“Hello, Stan. How are you?”
“I’m good.” He wiped crumbs off the counter. “Listen, I can’t see you today.”
“Oh? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Remember when I told you that I’d be giving a fire prevention talk to my son’s first grade class?”
“Of course. Tomorrow afternoon, right?”
“Actually, it’s today. I must have gotten the dates mixed up.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing you today, Stan.”
He was silent, guilt gnawing at his insides as he wrung out the dishrag in the sink.
“I have some time tomorrow afternoon,” the woman offered.
Catching a flash of color out of the corner of his eye, Stan whipped his head around to find Manning standing in the doorway with his bookbag slung over his back. He was watching Stan, his eyes narrowed speculatively.
Swallowing hard, Stan turned away to murmur into the phone, “I need to go. I’ll call you back later.”
Hanging up the wall phone, he turned to face his son. “What’re you doing back home?”
“I missed my bus,” Manning mumbled.
“Again? This is the second time in two weeks.”
Manning just looked at him.
Stan heaved an exasperated breath. “Let me get my keys, and I’ll drive you to school.”
Manning nodded, stepping aside as Stan stalked past him and headed down the hall toward the master bedroom.
“Who was on the phone, Dad?”
Stan halted midstep, then glanced over his shoulder to meet his son’s suspicious gaze. “No one,” he replied.
Manning frowned. “But I heard you talking to somebody.”
“It was just a telemarketer selling life insurance. I told her I wasn’t interested.”
Manning looked skeptical. “Is that why you’re calling her back?”
Stan faltered, unnerved that he’d been caught in a bald-faced lie.
“Don’t worry about who I was talking to,” he snapped. “Last I checked, boy, I don’t answer to you.”
Manning clenched his jaw as his expression darkened. Averting his gaze, he muttered something under his breath.
“What?” Stan demanded, his brows raised as he took a threatening step toward the boy. “You got something to say to me?”
Before Manning could respond, the doorbell rang.
Shooting a dark glance at his son, Stan went to answer the front door.
Standing on the porch was a beautiful biracial girl wearing a tight V-neck sweater over a denim miniskirt with pink leg warmers. Stan recognized her as one of the neighbor’s teenage daughters, though her name escaped him at the moment.
“Good morning, Mr. Wolf,” she gushed, batting her heavily mascaraed lashes at him.
Stan smiled indulgently. “Hello, uh—”
“Caitlyn,” the girl supplied. “I live down the street.”
“Right, right. What can I do for you, Caitlyn?”
“Well, I was just getting dressed for school when I looked out my bedroom window and saw Manning walking back from the bus stop. I figured he must have missed the bus, so I just thought I’d swing by to see if he needs a ride to school.”
Stan chuckled. “That’s very kind of you, Caitlyn, but I was going to take—”
“That’s okay, Dad,” Manning interrupted, appearing beside Stan in the doorway. He gave Caitlyn a slow once-over, lingering on the swell of her cleavage. “She can give me a ride.”
The girl smiled with pleasure. “Hey, Manning,” she purred, a predatory gleam in her hazel eyes. “Are you ready?”
He nodded quickly. “Let’s go.”
“Not so fast,” Stan interjected, holding up a hand to detain his son as he gave Caitlyn a shrewdly appraising look. “How old are you?”
“Dad—” Manning groaned.
The girl laughed. “I just turned sixteen, Mr. Wolf. I’m a junior at the high school.”
“So that means you haven’t had your driver’s license very long.”
As Manning slapped a hand to his forehead, Caitlyn grinned unabashedly. “That’s true, but I’ve been driving for over a year with my learner’s permit. And I have a spotless record so far—no tickets or accidents whatsoever.” Her eyes danced with mirth. “Don’t worry, Mr. Wolf. You have my word that I’ll get your son to school safe and sound.”
“Hmm.” Stan’s gaze strayed past her to the shiny red Camaro parked at the end of his driveway. “Is that your car?”
“Yup.” Caitlyn beamed proudly. “My parents gave it to me for my birthday. Totally awesome, right?”
Stan smothered a laugh. “Totally.”
Manning shot him an aggrieved look. “Can we go now?”
Stan hesitated another moment, then relented with a nod. “You kids have a good day. And thanks for giving my son a ride to school, Caitlyn.”
“Oh, you don’t have to thank me,” she purred, smiling coyly at Manning. “It’s my pleasure.”
I’ll bet, Stan mused, watching as the teenagers walked to the Camaro and climbed inside. As Manning buckled his seatbelt, Caitlyn cupped his cheek in her hand and made a comment that brought a slow, lazy smile to his face.
Stan chuckled softly, shaking his head. His son was definitely a chip off the old block.
Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
As Stan moved to close the door, Manning glanced out the passenger window and met his gaze. The boy’s smile faded, letting Stan know that he hadn’t forgotten about their near-confrontation.
Stan hesitated, then lifted his hand in a small wave.
Manning nodded shortly.
Long after the Camaro pulled off, Stan stood there wondering how much longer he could keep his secret from destroying his family.