Page 62 of Learning at 40

I lick my lower lip and bite the flesh.

“I know.” Ben. He would have been so happy that I’d fallen in love. Excuse me, flying in it or ready to fly. First, I need to focus on the “second star to the right and straight on till morning,” as Peter Pan said earlier tonight.

River is that star. Morning couldn’t get here fast enough.

23

[Zack]

Although I sat in a chair with my feet propped up on the windowsill for the remainder of the night, I’d fallen asleep until I heard a car door slamming. Subconsciously, I didn’t know if I really heard the door or imagined it, but I flinched, and my feet fell to the floor, completely asleep. Pins and needles cripple my legs as I try to shake them out so I can stand.

When I finally have enough circulation to move, I’m limping, but I’m picking up speed, certain River must be home by now. I check the time as I found my watch in the pocket where the boys securely hid it. Roughly after eight, it shows, and my mind races with thoughts. Where had River been all night? I didn’t want to believe she’d run off for a one-night stand as she’d already told me it wasn’t her kind of thing, and I didn’t know if she had friends in the area where she might have stayed. I did know her family was limited.

As I exit the front door of Anna’s house, I hear raised voices coming from next door when I round the garage. I don’t typically tuck through the hole in the fence where my sons first crawled to River’s home. I’ve always taken the long way down the drive and around the fence to her driveway and then along the side of the house. However, I’m in a hurry today, and when I hear those voices grow louder, I skip the hole and jump the chain fence, struggling with the shrubbery before I break free to her driveway.

A man stands near River’s front stoop, where she’s posed and defensive in her body language. Arms crossed. A scowl on her face. She looks like she’s holding herself back but ready to pounce on the man. He’s roughly my height and size but dressed in suit pants and a crisp button-down. They both peer in my direction, and the man smooths his hand down the length of his tie.

“Everything alright?” I immediately ask, brushing off loose leaves that cling to me as I fought the mighty arborvitae.

“Who’s this?” Suit-man asks while River simply closes her eyes a second.

“He’s the neighbor.” I halt at the label said with disdain. Neighbor? I’ll tackle that comment second. First, I want to know who this guy is and why River has her hackles up with him.

“I heard voices,” I state, and River twists her lips.

“Probably should get that checked then,” Suit-man says. Smart-ass. Ignoring me as if I’m a squirrel crossing the yard, he turns back to River.

“You really should reconsider,” he states to her.

“I’ve told you before. I’m not giving up the place. It’s what Quincy wanted.”

“His name was Dennis, and he wasn’t of sound body and mind.” Suit-man slips his hands into his pockets.“We’ve been through this before. You have my lawyer’s contact. Talk to them.”

This is when I step forward, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu from the day before.

“Everything alright, River?” I repeat, sensing nothing is right about this man standing near her front stoop, hinting at her giving up this place.

“Who are you again?” Suit-man turns to me, and I have a better view of him with his glossy hair and paunchy cheeks. His assessing gaze covers me in less than a minute, and disgust fills his face. Do I look like that when I look at people? I’m certain I do when I’m in lawyer mode.

“Zack Weller.” I step forward, offering a hand, and River’s mouth pops open but quickly shuts. Suit-man reaches out to shake mine although he hesitates a second, considering my hand might be unclean after wrestling the bushes.

“Daniel Quincy.” My hand freezes mid-shake, and I crane my neck to look at River for clarification.

“Quincy’s son?” I ask her.

“His name was Dennis,” Daniel hisses, and I face him once more, releasing his hand.

“And to what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

“We?” he sputters. “It’s a private matter.” He turns back to River, who hasn’t moved from her crossed arm stance.

“I’m her attorney.” Daniel’s gaze swivels back to me, taking another roam over my attire. Rumpled T-shirt. Sports shorts. Flip-flops. He shifts back to River.

“Well, this ought to be good.” He gives me a salacious smile as if he sees the writing on the wall. Like I’m some local dumbass he can beat in the game he wants to play. Glancing up at River, I give her a cautious shake of my head. Don’t argue with me.

“So, what can we do for you?” I repeat.

“Your client,” he hisses, “stole my house.”