The boy’s face brightened immediately. “Yeah, that would be great.” As soon as he crossed the threshold, the dogs approached him with their tails wagging.
Cautiously Jordan extended his hand. “What are their names?”
“The bigger one is Seahawk and that’s Sonic,” Steve said after he had shut the carved wood door.
“Are they watchdogs?” Jordan asked as they sniffed his fingers.
The idea of either of them going after a burglar made Steve smile. “Nah, they’re golden retrievers. They love everybody.”
He led the way past the living room with its massive rock fireplace and vaulted ceiling, down the hall through the family room where he’d been watching TV, and into the gourmet kitchen.
“Wow,” Jordan exclaimed, head swiveling. “This place is way cool. Did you build it, too?”
“Yeah,” Steve replied, pleased by the compliment. “I designed it and did most of the work.”
After Jordan had wrapped his gangly legs around a bar stool at the granite center island and the dogs thumped down on the floor, Steve began pulling sandwich fixings from the stainless-steel double-door refrigerator.
“Does your mom know where you are?” he asked casually. Was she the kind of single parent who let her kid run wild while she was busy doing her own thing? He couldn’t imagine her giving permission for him to come here.
Steve knew nothing about her, so he shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
“Not really,” Jordan replied.
Steve held up a container of mustard with a questioning glance. When Jordan nodded, he squirted it onto the bread. “Won’t she be worried?” He doled out slices of ham and cheese as though he were dealing cards at a blackjack table, topped the stacks with lettuce and slapped on more bread.
Jordan looked longingly at the sandwiches, reminding Steve of the voraciousness of a growing boy’s appetite. “She’s looking at an office to rent and Dolly thinks that I walked over to the library,” he said. “Mom lets me walk there by myself.”
Steve put the sandwiches on plates and passed one over, impressed that Jordan didn’t immediately dig in. After Steve had set out two cans of soda and torn open a bag of chips, he sat down, too. Only then did the kid finally begin to eat.
Steve debated called Pauline’s house, then decided to hold off. It sounded as though Jordan had done a good job of covering his tracks. While they ate, Steve waited for him to start talking.
“Can I go out on the deck?” Jordan asked after he’d wolfed down the sandwich and taken a long swallow of soda.
“Sure,” Steve replied. “Don’t fall over the railing.”
The house sat on a low bluff above the water with wooden steps leading down to the beach. On a clear day, he could see all way to Whidbey Island.
Letting the dogs outside, he joined Jordan at the rail. The deck hugged the back and one end of the house, so that part of it was shaded in the afternoon and the rest remained in the sun.
“See those dark things in the water?” Steve asked, pointing. “They’re probably a pod of killer whales.”
Jordan stared with his face scrunched up as the breeze off the water ruffled his thick hair. “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen pictures.”
“So, what’s on your mind?” Steve finally asked when the silence had lengthened between them.
Jordan looked up at him through eyes that stirred up long-buried memories of his mother. “One of the other kids told me that you’re my dad,” he said. “Is it true?”
Although he’d known the question was coming, Steve had no idea how to respond. “And what does your mom say?” he asked, stalling in case inspiration decided to visit him.
Jordan turned to stare out at the water. “All she’s ever said was that you—uh, he, couldn’t be with us. I figured she meant my dad was dead, like my friend’s father who was a marine. I didn’t want to make her feel sad, so I never asked anything more.”
Silently Steve digested the information. No wonder Jordan had been willing to spend his money for a taxi to come all the way out here and confront him. The kid was filled with curiosity and he had no one to talk to about it. What the hell was Lily thinking? Even if the donor had been a one-night stand, she owed the kid some kind of explanation.
Steve rested his hand on one thin shoulder. “Tell you what,” he said, hoping he was doing the right thing, “I’m going to take you home now, because your mom is the one who really needs to explain everything to you.”
This mess was Lily’s problem, but from what Steve could tell, she must have done a decent job of raising the boy. Somewhere along the way, she must have acquired the necessary parental instincts to handle difficult subjects like this. He, on the other hand, was clueless.
“She’s going to be pissed at me,” Jordan protested as Steve herded him back inside.
Steve let the word slide. “I think she’ll understand.” As he grabbed the keys to his pickup from a bowl by the front door, he tried to sound reassuring. “Besides, you’re old enough to know the truth.”
Lily hurried through the back door into Mayfield Manor, looking for someone to tell her exciting news to. After a week of fruitless searching, she’d met Wade and their real estate agent at a small house that had just recently been rezoned for commercial use. The one-story structure sat on a large corner lot near the courthouse in an older, well-maintained section of town. With some remodeling, it would be perfect for their offices: her CPA business and his investment firm.
As soon as Lily entered the large, updated kitchen in the old Victorian where she’d grown up, she became aware of the silence. Pauline was still at the shop, but Jordan should be here with Dolly, the boarder.
Frowning, Lily glanced at the small blackboard above the counter where messages had been left for as long as she could remember. Sure enough, something was written there in Dolly’s spidery handwriting.
Jordan gone to library. Dolly taking nap.
Hands on her hips, Lily blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. She wished Dolly had indicated when he’d left.
Lily glanced at the clock above the stove, tempted to call Pauline. On Saturday afternoon the historic downtown shops and galleries would be full of tourists, so her news would have to wait. Meanwhile, Lily could start a list of all the things that would need to be done to the property if the seller accepted their offer.
At least financing her share wasn’t one of them. Francis had provided generously for her and Jordan in his will. She blessed the day she’d met him at an open audition right after she first arrived in L.A.
She divided the sheet of paper into columns: Exterior, Interior, Furniture and Equipment, she wrote across the top. They would need to order a sign, too. Maybe a native craftsman could carve one out of cedar, with classy gold lettering.
She hardly noticed the sound of an approaching truck until it slowed in front of the house. Glancing distractedly through the bay window, she expected Wade. What she saw instead made her leap to her feet as the notepad slid to the floor and the pen fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers.
Steve Lindstrom had parked his white pickup in the driveway. At first she assumed that he was looking for Wade, but as she watched from behind the swagged satin drapery, the passenger door opened and her son climbed out. Steve must have given him a ride home from the library.
Jordan started to dash across the front yard, only to skid to a halt when Steve called out to him. Lily was torn between staring at the tall, muscular man striding toward the front door and dashing to the gilt-framed wall mirror to check on her own appearance. Before she could decide, Jordan reached the porch.
Lily’s