across the beach. Then, even though I have ‘house’ things to do, I’m going to take advantage of this sunny day and sit out on my deck. It’s too cold, but the sun feels good.”
“Want some advice? Get yourself one of those little fire pits to put out on the deck. It only gives off a little heat, but it’s cozy.”
“Good idea,” she said.
“I’m putting a fireplace on my deck,” Cooper said. “A half shade out there, too—the sunset is not only stunning, it’s blinding. And a half cover. This place is wet, but the view doesn’t let you ignore it—rain or shine, you like being right in front of it. Truth is, I’m building a deck that happens to have a house attached to it.”
She laughed at him. “How long have you known Rawley?”
“Just a year and change. He kind of came with the property. Ben found him and brought him here. Ben was my friend and left me the property. Rawley had been with Ben a few years.”
“Nice to have someone working for you who knows the business.”
Cooper laughed. “Don’t kid yourself that he works for me. He pretty much does as he pleases, checks in as little as possible and if he tells me to do something, I usually do.” He winked at her. “Chickadee.”
“Is it like having your father around?”
“My father’s not nearly as ornery, but in that age range,” Cooper said. “Rawley is an interesting guy. Real solitary. Real quiet. But he can develop some deep attachments—like to Devon and Mercy. They’re family now. And since Devon doesn’t have any family, that’s good. For that matter, Spencer doesn’t have family, either.”
“But you have family?”
“Tons. All in or near Albuquerque. Parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, their kids. Plus, I have a son—Austin. Spencer and I share a son.” Her expression must have been shocked because he smiled and said, “Spencer married my ex-fiancée and she passed away last year. How about you?”
“I lost my mother a few years ago, but my father and brother live in Boston. I’m very close to my brother—he’s married and has two little girls I adore, even though in my line of work I haven’t seen enough of them.”
“And you’re not on the East Coast?”
“I needed a change,” she said. “There’s something about this place.... In the time I lived on the farm, although under adverse conditions, I got a little attached and wanted to see a little more of the state. And there was the matter of getting to know the people who put everything on the line to get me out of that camp. Plus, my brother is a busy, busy man. And now that I have the time, I’ll probably visit him. Long flight, but so what? I talk to my brother at least a couple of times a week. I guess we’re all used to me living away from the family, so to speak. And hey—you’re not in the mountains of New Mexico.”
“That’s not the surprise. I left home when I joined the Army as a kid and haven’t lived there since. The real surprise is that I live here! I was a rolling stone until I came to Thunder Point. Now I’m a land baron.”
* * *
Laine stood on her deck, hands on hips, looking around, when the phone rang. Her cell phone was sitting on the kitchen counter and she went for it. No need for a landline in this house, she only had her cell. When she saw that it was her brother, her face lit up. “Pax!” she said. “How’s it going?”
“I missed two calls from you,” he said. “Sorry about that. Busy week. Lots of surgery.”
“No big deal. We have an understanding—first thing after work comes the wife and kids, then me. I’m very patient.”
“What’s it like out there?”
“Heat wave,” she said with a laugh. “It’s fifty degrees and sunny. I was just looking around the deck to find a good spot for a little portable fire pit so I can bundle up and sit out here at night. What’s Mother Nature doing out there?” she asked.
“You don’t watch the news, I guess.”
In fact she had been obsessed with news of Boston from the weather and current events to the crime. That was where her family was and she thought of them all constantly. But she said, “Not if I can help it.”
“We’re bracing for a nor’easter. Looking at two feet tonight. Roads and airport will probably shut down and everyone will stay home and watch old movies until the electricity goes out.”
“Except you.”
“I’m on call tomorrow night. Tonight I’m watching snow fall and listening to the wind howl.”
“How are Missy and Sissy and Miss Perfect?” she asked.
He let go with a bark of laughter and said, “One of these days I’m going to slip up and call my wife Miss Perfect and when that happens, I’m selling you out. I swear it. Everyone here is fine. Missy is having her first school concert in six weeks and is practicing the cello day and night—it’s almost as big as she is and sounds like mating season at an elk ranch around here. And Sissy is gearing up for a spring dance recital, which for six-year-old girls should be enchanting. Thank God she didn’t choose a musical instrument or I’d start sleeping at the hospital.”
His eight-year-old daughter was Melissa, who they called Missy. His six-year-old daughter was Catherine, who they called Sissy for “sister.” And his wife, Genevieve, she had secretly named Miss Perfect because she was the ultimate wife and mother. She never complained at all. It was unnatural. Here she was, stuck with a couple of kids, tons of responsibility, a mostly absent husband, and yet she took it on with a contented smile. What the hell was that? Laine wondered. Had she no limits?
But Genevieve had two sisters and they were all thicker than thieves. She was a dear and good mother, a faithful wife, a dedicated friend, a beloved daughter and a little too domestic and nurturing for Laine’s blood. And she had taken away Laine’s best friend, her twin brother. She was perfectly wonderful to Laine, but Laine had never warmed to her. They weren’t girlfriends. But then not only did Laine have very few girlfriends, but it was also impossible for anyone to be closer to her than Pax.
“And Senior?”
“The same. You haven’t heard from him, huh?”
“No. Frankly I’m not surprised. I told him not to call me until he’s ready to apologize for being such an ass and has something positive to say to me, so I imagine hell will freeze over before I see his name on the caller ID.”
“You take him too seriously,” Pax said. “Learn to not hear him. Nod, say nothing, do as you please.”
“I can’t,” she said. “You get away with that. He’s not as critical of your choices....”
“Yes, he is. But I don’t care. He’s not driving my bus. And if you’re honest, you have to admit, no one but you has been driving your bus for a long, long time. Like since you were seven.”
“He aggravates me so,” she said. “He thinks if he opens his mouth it must be gospel and we should all thank him for taking the time and trouble to move his tongue against his teeth.”
“Don’t get worked up all over again,” Pax counseled. “It’s over. You moved. I just wish you weren’t so damn far away. Get your computer set up and use Skype with the girls—they miss you.”
“He doesn’t treat you like he does me,” Laine said, unable to let it go yet. “He’s very proud of you!”
“He thinks I took his advice and became a doctor. I didn’t. I’m doing exactly what I want to do. And he’s still telling me how to work even though he doesn’t know shit about pediatric surgery. I try to tell him as little as possible, but I also never take him seriously. Now tell me what’s new and exciting in your little town.”
“I painted a wall,”