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Even if Luke hadn’t known the boy’s father growing up, there was no mistaking Grayson Campbell’s son. Gray and Holly had been tied at the hip from the time she was sixteen. She, the knockout golden child of the town sheriff, and Gray, the drama-club president and star pitcher of the baseball team. As far as Luke was concerned, he couldn’t relate.
“You’re the man taking my grandpa’s job.” The accusation cut Luke to the quick, but he had to give the kid credit for confronting him. Few adults would have the nerve to do the same.
“I suppose I am.” Luke braced his arm on the door, giving the boy a chance to purge his grievance.
“But it’s his job. Not yours.”
Luke resisted the urge to squirm. “Does your mom know you’re out here...?”
“Simon.” Simon’s chin went up, his fists tightened. “Simon Grayson Campbell. And you’re Luke Saxon. I’ve heard about you.”
“I’m sure you have.” Luke could only imagine what the little man had heard. “I went to school with your parents. Did you know that?”
“Maybe.” Simon’s eyes reflected surprise and suspicion before grief flashed like a struck match. “My dad died.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Were you friends?” Even with the hostile stare, Luke saw hope searching for a way out.
“Everyone liked your dad.” Because Gray had treated everyone equally. Even the son of the town drunk. But no, they hadn’t been friends. Luke hadn’t had friends. “He was a good guy.”
Some of Simon’s suspicion faded. “I don’t like my grandpa to be unhappy. Mom says losing his job’s made him unhappy.”
“I’m sorry for that.” But he’d given his word to Jake and Gil. The diner door banged open. “I think your mom is looking for you.”
“Simon!” Holly blasted out the door, making her son jump and Luke wince. He knew what it was like to be on the other side of that tone, but at least he didn’t have to worry about this boy’s safety. “Come inside right now.”
“But he knew Dad.” Simon looked at his mom and then did as he was told.
“Hurry. Inside, now.” She pushed him in the door before she faced Luke. “It’d be best if you stayed away from him. From all of us.”
Chills of irritation pricked his spine as his jaw tightened. Did she think he was going to get in his car and run the kid down? “He followed me, Holly.”
“That might be, but next time—”
“Keep a better eye on your son and there won’t be a next time.” When she flinched, he let out a breath and counted to ten. Anger wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere—and he’d rather die than venture into the dark place anger would take him. “I apologize. That was uncalled-for. I was sorry to hear about Gray.”
“Thank you.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and seemed to debate what to say next. She crossed her arms over her chest. When she spoke, he heard the resignation in her tight voice. “You’re really staying?”
“I really am. Better get used to it. Otherwise it’s going to be a very long year for all of us.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SHARP RAP on her back patio door Sunday morning sent flour flying as Holly noted the time on the kitchen clock. Nearly ten already? Where had the time gone? She’d better get a move on. She had to be at the diner by noon to take over for Ursula.
“It’s open, Dad.” The piecrust dough on the kitchen counter screamed for attention, which Holly gladly provided courtesy of her grandmother’s ancient rolling pin.
“Rough week?” Jake Gordon gave a cautionary glance around her yellow-and-blue country-chic kitchen that looked as if a bakery had exploded. Vanilla and hot sugar permeated the air in her storybook cottage house.
Being unable to sleep last night had had her up and working by four this morning. The restlessness seemed to be happening frequently, the more she thought about growing up in Butterfly Harbor and how everything was changing. Now five pies into her baking for the week meant a blackberry, a blueberry lemon and an apple crumb were cooling on the side counter, and two chocolate-mint creams were stashed in the fridge. She’d be lucky if the lemon meringue she was working on now made it past midnight, given her penchant for late-night stress snacking.
“The week was fine.” She pounded the pin against the handmade dough, bringing layers of butter and flour to the surface as Jake strode to the refrigerator. “Yesterday was a bit of a kicker.”
The hand-carved cane aiding her father’s uneven gait struck Holly as ironic, given the man responsible for Jake’s limp had waltzed his way into her diner a little over twenty-four hours ago.
Holly rolled the crust out from the center to the uneven edges of pastry, trying not to give in to the worry bearing down on her. How could he be taking his forced retirement so easily? Even his khaki uniform—the uniform he wore seven days a week because he was always on call—looked as if it was ready to slump into retirement more readily than her father. Thinking of the not-so-far-off day when he’d no longer be wearing his uniform hurt her heart.
“So Luke Saxon’s the new sheriff,” she said when her dad didn’t inquire further.
Had Holly not been watching, she might have missed her father’s split-second hesitation before he twisted off the lid of the orange-juice container and poured a glass. He recovered in true Jake Gordon style, with a shrug of his shoulders and a quirk of his lips, but Holly could see a trace of regret in her father’s assessing gaze.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you gnawing on something you couldn’t change. We both know you can worry something into the ground if you’re given enough notice. Add Luke Saxon to the equation, and I just didn’t have the energy.”
“You’re right.” Holly rolled the dough over the pin and transferred the unbaked crust into a pie tin before downing the last of her coffee. “Having him walk into the diner without any warning made it so much easier.”
Jake hid his wince behind a long drink of juice. “I didn’t think he was due in town yet. Luke always was a fan of the unexpected. Guess some things haven’t changed after all.”
“Huh.” Except Luke was older and more mature, both in stature and in attitude. And while there had been an aloofness about him, there was also a simmering something keeping him front and center in her thoughts. Resignation nibbled at the edge of Holly’s distrust. He said he’d changed, but people didn’t. Not when they said they would; not when she hoped they would. Not even when they promised to, time and time again. She’d dealt with more broken promises than she had broken eggs. Holly separated the half dozen yolks for the lemon-curd filling and dismissed the doubt. “As far as I could tell, nothing about Luke has changed.”
“His employment record states otherwise.” Jake lowered himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and helped himself to a banana from the blue mosaic fruit bowl she kept filled.
“You’ve seen his record?” She tossed empty shells into the compost bowl on the sink as she pursed her lips to keep the snark to a minimum.
“Why else would I have recommended him for the job?”
Holly’s body went cold. “You recommended him? But why— How— Dad!” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shrieked. “I don’t care what he’s done since, Luke Saxon should have a criminal record for what he did to you. And he would have if you had pressed charges. He should have gone to jail. Instead, you let him off scot-free after he almost killed you.”
“He was anything but scot-free.” The chill in her father’s voice was like a slap in the face. “Luke was a good kid caught in a horrific situation. The accident was just that, an accident.”
“He was drunk when he got behind the wheel of his car.” Grief squeezed her heart like a steel fist. “That’s a choice, not an accident.” And that incident was why she’d learned early on not to get in any car with Gray. How many times had they fought over him driving Simon anywhere? How many nights had she lain awake and wondered how many drinks her husband had had in his system the night he’d smashed into the guardrail just off the San Mateo Bridge? “There’s no excuse for what Luke did, Dad.”
“Luke never tried to excuse what happened, even though he could have.”
“All these years and you’re still defending him. And now you’ve given him your job.” Holly slapped a towel against her legs and swung around. “You spent eight weeks in the hospital, Dad. Another three months in a rehab facility, and let’s not forget all the physical—”
“I might be getting old, Holly, but I don’t require you to remind me of the details.” Jake rubbed a hand over his thigh as if trying to get the circulation going. “What I did then was best for everyone, especially Luke. He needed someone to take a chance on him, to push him into a future he couldn’t see for himself. In some ways, the accident was a blessing.”
