not waiting for his approval. He insisted that we meet and make some plans, and we did far more than that. I’ll print the flyer and email you a copy. Once you’ve made contact with your reporter pals, let me know, so we can work out a good time for interviews and whatnot.”
He leaned a forearm on the car’s roof. “I’ll have them get in touch with you.”
“With me? But you’re their go-to guy...”
“Why would they want to feature this ugly ol’ mug when they could film your pretty face?”
Grateful for the darkness that hid her blush, Maleah buckled her seat belt.
“Good work tonight,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
He took the hint and stood back. “How long will it take you to get home from here?”
“Now? Half an hour.”
Ian nodded as she shut the door.
“Good. Drive safely now, hear?”
Maleah aimed the SUV toward South Caroline. With any luck, the traffic lights would be on her side and she really would be home in thirty minutes.
If it took longer, she wouldn’t complain. She’d always done her best thinking behind the wheel, and the meeting with Ian had given her a lot to think about. How to explain to her family that she’d work with “that bum Ian Sylvestry” until the night of the gala, for starters. And how he’d parlayed life as an ex-con into respectable relationships with the media...something she’d hadn’t accomplished in her years with Washburne. At least, not to the degree Ian had.
On the other hand, she hadn’t yet seen proof that he could arrange the interviews. For all she knew, the promise was all part of a well-rehearsed act. If so, would Stan place the blame where it belonged? Because one thing Maleah didn’t need at this point in the gala’s schedule was another reason to resent him.
THE CHRISTMAS TREES of the World display that opened the Kids First event was one of the best Ian had ever seen. Hundreds of them, all shapes, sizes and colors, adorned with ornaments depicting the traditions of each represented country. His assignment? Make sure the lights stayed lit and the decorations stayed in place.
“Too bad they’re fake,” said a deep voice.
Turning, Ian looked into the eyes of Maleah’s older brother.
“Eliot. Long time no see.”
“Ten years, plus what, another fifteen?”
Ian chose to ignore the sarcasm. “Give or take.”
He gave Ian a quick once-over. “You’re rougher around the edges than I remember, but you didn’t age near as much as I thought you would.”
Ian saw two boys, perhaps six and eight, hovering nearby.
“Your kids?”
“Yeah, poor poor Dad,” said the taller of the two, “it’s his weekend with us. We’re doing stupid stuff until he can drop us off.”
If Ian had ever seen a man look more hurt or embarrassed, he didn’t know when. A lot of life had happened to Eliot during Ian’s years on the inside...marriage, kids and divorce. The guy had never gone out of his way to be friendly—quite the opposite, in fact—and yet he felt bad for him.
“I read someplace,” Ian told the older boy, “that dads aren’t as good at the one-on-one stuff as moms because they’re too busy protecting their kids from the dangerous stuff in the world.” He glanced at Eliot. “Especially dads that are cops.”
The smaller kid piped up with “Dad is always, always telling us to keep our wits about us, because there are crazies around every corner.” He looked up at his father. “Can we go to Dairy Queen after this?”
“Sure, sure.” Eliot slid a ten from his wallet, handed it to his oldest son. “There’s a gift cart right there. See if you can find something your mom might like.”
In one blink of the eye, Eliot looked as grateful as someone who despised him could look.
In the next, his expression reverted to the no-nonsense tough cop Ian remembered so well.
“I don’t need any parenting help from the likes of you, Sylvestry. My boys and I get along great.”
“I’m sure you do.” Ian glanced at the kids, squinting at the price tags attached to delicate, hand-blown glass ornaments. “They look a lot like you. Seem like good kids, too.”
Eliot’s frown deepened. “I didn’t come here seeking your compliments or your approval.”
“Yeah? Then why are you here?”
“In a word, Maleah. She said over Sunday dinner that some Washburne big shot pressured her into working with you. And I’m here to say if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do your job and nothing more.”
He didn’t like Eliot’s tone. Or his ready-to-fight stance, for that matter. He tried to put himself in the man’s shoes. What red-blooded loving brother would stand idly by while his only sister dated an ex-con? Understanding the man’s behavior was one thing, but he didn’t appreciate being raked over the coals in front of paying customers and other event volunteers.
He was about to say all that when the sound of shattering glass stopped him. “Wasn’t us, Dad,” said the little guy. “It was that kid.” He pointed. “The one who’s been running around.”
“I know,” Eliot said. “Saw him out of the corner of my eye.”
“We bought Mom an angel ornament,” his older son said, holding up a small white box.
“Good. Zip up your jackets. We’re leaving.”
“Can we still go to Dairy Queen?”
“Sure. Why not?”
He faced Ian, pointed a finger and narrowed his eyes. “Remember...do your job. That’s it. Or else.”
Or else what? he wanted to ask.
“One question,” Ian said instead.
“Yeah...”
“Did Maleah put you up to this?”
“Absolutely not. She doesn’t even know we’re here. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep it that way.”
Again with the “if you know what’s good for you” garbage. To avoid regular beatings, like those he’d been subjected to that first year at Lincoln, Ian had learned to endure a certain amount of bullying. But he saw no reason to tolerate Eliot’s intimidation now, even if his intentions were more or less good. He put himself in Eliot’s path, effectively blocking his exit. “Look. Eliot. I get it. If my sister was cavorting with a known felon, I’d wig out, too. But you need to know that I have no interest in Maleah.” Too much time had passed, time that changed them. Yes, he liked her even better now, maybe, grown up, feisty and independent, than he had all those years ago, but that didn’t mean things could ever be the same. “So save your threats for somebody who doesn’t have her best interests at heart, okay?”
The boys ran up and, grinning, flanked their father. “We’re ready for ice cream!” the little guy said.
Ian watched them walk away, hand in hand, Eliot nodding and smiling as the boys chattered all the way to the main entrance. Despite the older one’s surly comment earlier, it was clear father and sons really did have a good relationship.
And for the first time since meeting Eliot, Ian envied him.
Just then, Ian spotted Maleah an aisle away, giving directions to a visitor. When she looked up, he waved. He hadn’t intended