cookout!” Josh shouted, his face screwed up tight. Red spots stood out on his cheeks like a case of measles. “I wanna see Grandpa Jack!”
“Joshua, we’re staying home today.” Griffin tried again, using his best parent-in-control voice. Apparently his message wasn’t getting through, and he felt his patience begin to fray like his nerves. “Maybe we can visit next weeken—”
“No! I need to go now!”
Griffin didn’t know what else to say. With Amanda this would be par for the course, but she had stayed out of the line of fire and was talking to Dixie in her room. He could hear the low, long-suffering tone she always used.
“Josh, this isn’t a good time,” he said. No way would Griffin put himself in Sunny Donovan’s sights again. Before he saw her, if he ever saw her, he had to get Amanda to tell him the truth about the stolen watch. Sunny’s unwanted advice still rang in his ears, but since Josh had melted down in the car, his son was uppermost in his mind.
Strike two, he thought. Obviously relying on Josh to stay cute and easy to handle hadn’t worked out that well.
“This is a good time for me,” Josh insisted. “Grandpa Jack’s waiting. He said we can play horseshoes today, and I’m gonna win.” He paused. “We’ll make a bet.”
Josh didn’t even know what a bet was. “Where did you hear that?”
“From Mandi. She says Grandpa Jack will pay me when I win.”
“Great,” Griffin murmured. Talk about unasked-for advice. “The way things are going, Amanda will have you playing poker in some casino before you’re ten years old.” Not likely but still, she was a bad influence these days, as if she wanted to get Josh in trouble. “Remember how your sister’s ‘help’ turned out last time?”
Josh gave him a deer-in-the-headlights look. “I don’t ’member.”
“Yes, you do, Josh. She told you to ‘clean’ your plate—on to the floor. Did you really think I wouldn’t see the mess?”
Josh’s mouth set. “I don’t like that hamburger stuff you make.”
The one-pot meat and noodles meal was one of Griffin’s best efforts, his version of goulash.
“Well, that’s what we had for dinner,” he said. “I’m not a short-order cook. What you see in front of you is what you get that night. And I expect you to finish.”
For that he got a mutinous glare. Too bad. The counselor had told him that maintaining authority was always a good choice. “Amanda is already testing me at every opportunity. You need limits, too.” And until now Josh had observed them.
“At Grandma Kate’s I can eat anything I want. That’s what she told me,” he added with a nod. “And if it rains and thunders, I don’t have to be outside.”
“That may be. But we’re still staying home.” He paused. “You won’t have to be outdoors in the rain here, either. I promise.”
In a flash Josh’s scowl dominated his face. He took a single step toward the hallway to his room—his usual destination when he lost an argument—then stopped. His body vibrating with anger, he turned. His cheeks were purple now.
“I don’t like you! You’re mean!” he yelled.
The words hit Griffin right in the chest. He inhaled sharply, but before he got the chance to exhale—and try to calm himself—Amanda appeared. She didn’t even recoil when Josh stomped past her, bumping her side.
“What did you do?” she asked, the freckles on her nose standing out.
Griffin struggled for the right tone, not wanting to set off another explosion. As the door to Josh’s room slammed shut, he said quietly, “Your call to Dixie finished?”
“She called me,” Amanda corrected him.
“Whatever,” he said, using one of her favorite terms. “I told Josh we’re not going to the cookout at the Cabots’ house today. He didn’t care for my decision.”
“Oh. Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I suppose I’m the reason we’re not going. What else?”
Griffin didn’t follow her logic. But lately, Amanda seemed to think everything was about her.
“I mean, just because I had Mrs. Donovan’s stupid watch in my room—like that proves I’m guilty—you’d be too embarrassed to be seen with me. Just because she’ll be there, too—”
“Amanda.”
“Okay. I confess,” she said. Saying the word made her freckles darken. “I took her watch.”
His heart began to pound. “Is that the truth?”
“Yes!” She gulped in a breath. “Are you satisfied now?”
His hands fisted at his sides. “Why would I be satisfied?”
“Because you always thought I was guilty.”
He counted to three before he said, “Amanda, you know stealing is a crime. Sunny Donovan cut you some slack because you’re family—her brother’s niece. She hoped we could settle this among ourselves.” His fists loosened, then tightened again. “I’m not satisfied. I’m ashamed of you. I haven’t raised my daughter to take things that don’t belong to her.”
“You didn’t raise me. Mom did.”
He clenched his jaw. “Then what would she think?”
Amanda’s chin went up. “Maybe she’d be proud of me. She stole a lot of money from you,” she said, but her eyes didn’t meet his.
It was all he could do not to sag against the nearest piece of furniture for support. What had happened to his family? He wanted to rail at Rachel for leaving, for acting like a thief, but Amanda’s words had punctured his spirit.
“Yes, she did,” he said at last. Another bit of truth. “But it ends there.”
Amanda gave him the same blank stare he’d gotten from Josh.
“Get your little brother,” he said. “He’ll apologize to me for being rude. Then we’ll take the three-bean salad I made this morning, drive over to the Cabots’ house for the cookout, and you can apologize—in person—to Sunny Donovan.”
* * *
SHE WASN’T LOOKING forward to the cookout, but at least the sun was shining. Sunny was in the kitchen helping her mother with the preparations when she heard another car pull into the driveway. Dropping her paring knife, she hurried into the front hall to peek out the window. And groaned aloud.
The van could only belong to Griffin. All the other guests had arrived and were already in the backyard gathered around the ice chest full of drinks. Sunny glimpsed Amanda in the van’s front seat wearing a scowl, arms crossed over her chest. The car seat in back held a small boy she recognized as Griffin’s son.
Let the party begin.
Moments later, a small bundle of energy exploded through the front door. Her dad was there to pull Josh into a hug, his sneakered feet flying off the ground. Then he set the boy down and ruffled his hair.
“Hey, Josh. Glad you could make it.”
“We weren’t going to come,” he said with a solemn look. “But Daddy changed his mind.” He broke into a smile. “Grandpa Jack, can we do horseshoes now?”
“I promised, didn’t I?” Her father turned to Sunny, who was bent upon reaching the safety of the den. He reintroduced her to Josh, but after a brief handshake with Sunny, Josh ran for the kitchen, then out the back door.
“Wish I had his get-up-and-go,” her father muttered.
“He’s adorable, Dad.”
“Sure