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“Yeah, she’s a great cook - if you’re into stir-fried sprouts and snails.” Daniel pulled out a pack of Pop-Tarts and tossed aside the box.
“Actually, I like escargot. Calamari too.”
Figures. “Charleston has awesome seafood restaurants. Shrimp trawlers bring stuff in fresh every day.”
Trey sniffed. “I’ve eaten in restaurants around the world. My mom taught us to like anything since we traveled so much. She also said thathealthystuff would help us grow.”
The boy’s condescending glance ran the length of Daniel as if that inch missing from making him six feet tall might have been added with more squid and fewer Moon Pies.
Daniel laughed. The kid was snotty, but gutsy. Gutsy, he could work with. Trey would need that grit to carry him through the transition.
“No worries, kid.” He passed the pack of Pop-Tarts to his brother. “We’ll find someone to cook for you between restaurant visits. Even I know a growing boy can’t live on Twinkies and Mountain Dew.”
Trey offered another of his snooty sniffs and shuffled to the refrigerator while days of messages clicked through in the background. Daniel didn’t bother shutting off the speakerphone since nothing classified would come through his cell phone. And aside from Hannah’s message, he didn’t expect anything R-rated over his voicemail this time.
Reaching over his brother’s head, Daniel pulled a can of orange juice from way back on the top rack, an un-consumed leftover from one of his flight lunches. “Here, kid, vitamin C.”
“Mydad left us lots of money, you know, for shopping and stuff.”
Daniel mentally counted to ten. “Thanks, but I can afford a few groceries.”
His brothers could keep their trust fund. He didn’t want a penny of his father’s money, and he’d told his old man the same when he’d walked out the door to attend the Air Force Academy. Now he could support the boys fine on his own until they turned twenty-one.
If Trey didn’t off him first.
Daniel unhooked a coffee mug from under the cabinet. “You feeling okay today?”
There. That sounded vaguely parental. He paused the coffeemaker long enough to pour himself some much-needed java.
“I’m not a baby who can’t tell you if I’m sick.” Trey nibbled the edge of a Pop-Tart with a skeptical scowl.
“Okay. Okay.” He’d let the doc handle that one. While Kathleen had given Trey the all’s-fine yesterday, she still wanted both of the boys checked out by a pediatrician. After he shopped for bunk beds. And clothes. And food. Healthy food.
He ground his teeth in frustration.
When was he supposed to go to work? Thank heaven Mary Elise was with them for a while.
Trey scuffed his toe against the tile floor. “Mary Elise doesn’t want to stay here with us.”
Had the kid taken up mind reading? Maybe Trey could figure the woman out. “No sh— Uh, no kidding.”
Another thing to change about his life. His language. Just what he needed, Austin swaggering into preschool cursing like a crewdog.
Preschools? What did he know about kiddie day cares?
He tapped the next unheard voicemail.
“Hello, Daniel.” The deep bass rumbled from the speakerphone. His father’s voice.
Shock sucker punched Daniel. His lungs constricted, tight. For a surreal moment he wondered if the past days had been a sick game. His father would come pick up Trey and Austin. Life would go back to normal.
Except for Mary Elise.
Trey’s gasp slammed him back to the present. Daniel’s gaze locked with his brother’s saucer-wide eyes staring back from a pale face as they listened to the voice of the one man who joined them.
And it wasn’t a dream or game. The message was more than two weeks old. Daniel listened to the words, the voice, couldn’t make himself shut down this last link to a father he hadn’t been connected to in years.
“Son, call back as soon as you receive this message. We need to talk about…” He cleared his throat.
