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“Of course I know Richard. Why, is he caught up in this?”

“He was married to Callahan’s sister. Carly’s neighbor.”

“Yes, of course. I’ve met her a few times. Pretty woman. Though I felt sorry for her, being married to him. He’s such a charming man, very bright, but he has a serious drinking problem. Everybody knows about it.”

“I heard he’s been sober a month.”

“Good for him. Though he doesn’t have much choice, does he? The college insisted he go to rehab or they’d fire him. Honestly, they should’ve fired him years ago.”

“For the drinking?”

“More for the professional misconduct.”

He must have looked confused, because she clarified, “Affairs with students. Though I shouldn’t pass that along, I’ve only heard about it through the grapevine. The alcoholism I’ve seen firsthand. The man’s been three sheets to the wind at every university function I’ve ever attended with him.”

“He cheated on her?” Caleb asked, stupefied.

“Habitually, from what I’ve heard.” His mother caught him wringing the dish cloth like it was Richard Morrow’s neck and gave him a quizzical look. “It happens, dear.”

It did, but he hadn’t guessed it had happened to Ellen. No wonder she had trust issues.

He shook his head, trying to refocus. His mother was still watching him.

“I’m going to change and get to work,” he said. “When Dad gets back, send him over to help me out, okay? It’s easier to do the floors with two people.”

That distracted her. Chattering about how lovely it would be to spend the afternoon without having to look after her husband, she sent Caleb on his way with a bag of oatmeal-raisin cookies and a pat on the arm.

The painting didn’t take long. It was quiet, and it gave him time to think about Richard. “Even if Richard stayed sober and became an exemplary father, Caleb had to hate him by default, because he’d had Ellen once, and he’d treated her like garbage. Treated her son like garbage, too, from what Caleb could tell.

And Morrow might not stay sober. Caleb had known a few guys in the service with alcohol problems, and when they dried out, they could be volatile, unpredictable. Raising their loved ones’ hopes of permanent change one day, only to screw them over and fall back into the bottle the next.

Plus, the timing was pretty convenient, wasn’t it? Morrow showing up and claiming to want to make amends just when Ellen’s life looked interesting to outside observers. His arrival outside the bookstore at the same time as Plimpton’s.

Caleb didn’t like the way Richard had looked at Ellen. He didn’t like him, and his instincts told him it went beyond jealousy. Morrow was up to something.

While Caleb was cleaning out the paint roller at the sink in the utility room, his dad made an appearance. Today, Derek Clark wore a green John Deere ball cap he’d probably put on for the drive to the hardware store in Mount Pleasant. He liked to express himself through his hats. This one said I’m a local.

“You get those carriage bolts you wanted?” Caleb asked.

“Huh? No. Went in for rat bait.”

“You put it on a high shelf, right?” he asked, thinking about Amber’s kids. You wouldn’t want to leave rat poison laying around where they could stumble on it.

“Sure, sure.”

The supply shed was Caleb’s next destination anyway. While they were there, he double-checked on the rat bait. You never could be too careful.

Together, he and his father lugged out the huge roll of vinyl flooring and cut a piece large enough for one of the units’ bathrooms. Then they gathered up all the supplies they’d need and let themselves into the empty apartment.

“You got the old floor out already?” Caleb asked, surprised to see the toilet sitting on cardboard in the kitchen and the unit’s bathroom barren but clean, ready for the install.

“Sure,” his father said with a frown. “I guess I did.”

This was the problem with Dad these days—he had the same tireless work ethic as ever, but his memory was riddled with holes.

Derek had brought along his beat-up portable radio, so they listened to the oldies as they put in the floor. “How’s the security work going?”

“Good.” Caleb kneeled on the subfloor, staring at a corner where the caulk around the tub had turned gray and pocked with age.

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