Dan Page 3

  He tugged his cell phone from a back pocket. “Thought I’d call a tow, but—” he waved the device “—no service.”

  She swept a hand through the air. “No cell towers,” she corrected. “No coverage at this end of Merritt Island.”

  Dan made a mental note. The Aegean group would need to rectify that little problem before the first bulldozer descended.

  “Think I can hitch a ride?” he asked. At the gate, sunlight glinting off spider webs in broken sections of chain link had seemed a good indication that no one but the investment group was interested in the property. Now, with a hundred acres of wilderness behind him and two miles of river out front, the isolation wasn’t nearly so comforting.

  The woman pointed down. “My truck’s on the other side of the cove and the river bottom’s full of oyster shells. Without boots, you’d cut your feet to ribbons. Or step on a stingray. But there’s a radio in my truck. If you can hang out for a couple of hours, I’ll send a tow. You have water?”

  There was plenty in the car. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Seconds later, the boy took off. As he pounded through shallow water toward the far shore, the woman turned. “Duty calls,” she said over one shoulder. “Can’t let him out of my sight. The way my day is going…”

  If she finished the sentence, Dan didn’t catch it before she hurried after her child. The effort flexed the muscles of her trim calves. He tried without much success to quit staring after her. If the blonde happened to turn around and catch him, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it much.

  Dan shook his head. What was he thinking? For all he knew there was a Mr. Fishing Guide somewhere. And a kid—even a cute one—only complicated matters.

  Not that he was looking for a date. Or even interested.

  No, all he needed was a tow, and it was enough that she’d agreed to send one. With that in mind, Dan plunged back the way he’d come, determined to wait by his car for the truck’s arrival.

  Ten minutes and a moderately steep climb put him at the top of the bluff where he wiped a light film of sweat from his forehead. Below, nothing more interesting than a stork moved along the water’s edge. Through dense thickets of palmetto ahead, he spied several gnarled citrus trees, the unpicked fruit shriveled down to small, brown balls. Vine and brush grew everywhere else. With no hundred-year-old oaks to give the environmentalists heartburn, the site made the perfect location for Bryce’s private clinic, and he wondered why no one had already snapped it up.

  They should have.

  So many houses crowded the swath of land between Cocoa and Cocoa Beach, he’d never have guessed this much undeveloped acreage existed. To the north, the building where space launch vehicles were prepped for takeoff towered above the treetops. Another plus. With Kennedy Space Center so close, the clinic could advertise front row seats to rocket launches, something their über-rich target market would appreciate.

  Air whistled, low and tuneless, past his lips.

  He’d give it another two hours before he struck out on foot. Any longer, and he risked getting stuck in the woods after dark. Million-dollar views or not, he didn’t relish the thought of a night in the wilderness without food, water or insect repellant.

  Or snake boots, he added, when something long and black slithered past. He waited until the snake disappeared into the brush before he stepped onto the narrow dirt track that led back to his car.

  Chapter Three

  That evening, after baths and prayers, kisses and hugs and bedtime routines guaranteed to keep the monsters at bay, Jess slid onto a kitchen stool. The stranger from the cove fresh in her mind, she paged through her address book until she found the number Henry had given her. Moments later, a phone rang twice before someone in Manhattan answered.

  “Estelle,” she began after introducing herself. “I was so sorry to hear about your uncle’s passing. Henry spoke quite highly of you. If there’s anything I can do to help now that he’s gone…”

  Though her tone suggested otherwise, Estelle Phelps said she appreciated the call. “Uncle Henry will be buried in the family plot, but his instructions included a local service. I’ve asked one of your mortuaries to handle the arrangements.”

  “Any idea when…?”

  “Next month sometime. With all the details of his estate to sort out, I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly make it down before then.”

  The indifferent attitude combined with the clipped words, so different from Henry’s warm drawl, made Jess lift her eyebrows.

  “I’m sure you have a million details to sort out, so I won’t keep you. But maybe we could get together while you’re here?”

  “Oh?” Mild surprise filled Estelle’s voice. “Did you know my uncle well?”

  Though her pulse began to race, Jess moved to the other purpose of her call. “I helped Henry with his Phelps Cove endeavors. The preserve will make a lasting memorial to him.” And to Tom, she added silently.

  “According to my lawyers, that sale isn’t final yet.”

  “Not officially,” Jess admitted. The muscles at the back of her neck tightened. Not even forty-eight hours had passed, and Henry’s niece had already spoken with her lawyers? The thought triggered a wave of concern that sent her to the rolltop desk she used as a home office. Juggling the phone under her chin, she wiped a light coating of dust from the binder that held her POE notes and flipped through until she found the agenda for the state legislature.

  “All the arrangements are in place,” she said firmly.

  The voice on the other end of the line sharpened. “The state’s offer is far below what I can get elsewhere, Ms. Cofer. You might as well know I intend to fight this ridiculous sale.”

  Jess squeezed the phone in a tight grip. “Your uncle signed contracts. Once the funding is approved during the current legislative session, it’s a done deal.” Of that she was certain. Her backside still bore calluses from all the hours she’d spent sitting in attorneys’ offices while Henry and his lawyers made sure the agreement was ironclad.

  “Ms. Cofer, if the money is released on schedule, I’ll be forced to honor Uncle Henry’s wishes. But if circumstances change…” Estelle’s voice trailed into a guarded laugh.

  We’ll lose the land.

  “I’ll make sure they don’t.” Jess crossed her fingers. Senators and representatives would meet in Tallahassee well into spring, giving her plenty of time to convince Henry’s heir to hop onboard POE’s bandwagon. “Let me take you to lunch when you’re here, and we’ll talk about it.”

  Estelle sighed. “I suppose I could fit you in. We’d have to meet after the memorial. I’ll have my secretary work out the details with you. Ciao.”

  Jess grimaced and hung up. “Aw, Henry,” she murmured. “If you’d known how much dying would complicate things, I bet you’d have hung on another three months.”

  Maybe she should have kept the stranger in the cove talking this afternoon. Should have found out all she could about him and his plans. Certainly, there was more to learn besides the fact that he was tall, dark and handsome….

  The notebook spread open on her desk beckoned and she shook that last thought aside. Leafing through hundreds of pages every time someone raised a question wasn’t good enough. Not even close. She padded into the kitchen and, knowing it was going to be a long night, put a fresh pot of coffee on to brew. With Henry gone, it was up to her to see their dream become reality. She wouldn’t let either of them down.

  Chapter Four

  A shadow passed across Dan’s office desk. The movement broke his concentration on a journal article touting advances in thoracic medicine. He looked up in time to glimpse a pelican soaring over the Indian River. A fishtail drooped, wet and glistening, from its pouched beak. Another bird swooped in to steal the prey, and the two flew through aerial maneuvers that would make World War II dogfighters jealous.

  He stilled, leaving Watson, Rice and Blake’s “Lost Indian” to play on minus his tapping foot. The battle reminded him of the way t
he fishing guide had taken him to task. He stared at the now empty sky thinking it was too bad they’d squared off against each other. He was in need of an instructor, and he could easily picture himself heading down the river in a fast boat, the comely fly fisher at his side.

  Someone in the outer office laughed. The noise drifting through his closed door was a reminder not to waste time daydreaming about a woman who was wrong for him. Even if she did happen to be available—for fishing, he reminded himself sternly—the way she’d bristled at his interest in Phelps Cove pitted her against all he wanted to accomplish. His phone rang and he straightened at the unusual interruption of his lunch hour. He reached for the receiver.

  “Dan Hamilton, here,” he said with a nonchalance long-perfected to soothe anxious patients.

  “Dan, it’s Glen. You got a minute?”

  He always had time for the man who had taken him in and kept him on the straight and narrow. “What’s up?” he asked. He marked his place with a slip of paper and slid the journal aside.

  “It’s Sean Hays,” Glen said. “He’s dead set on dropping out of school. If you’re free, can you meet us in the lobby?”

  Already on his feet, Dan asked, “He’s with you?”

  Despite a rough start, Sean was a straight-A student. If the boy wanted to quit now, only months before graduation, the reason had to be serious.

  “In the car. I’ve been trying to talk some sense into him all day. I’ve gotten nowhere. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

  “Crap,” Dan muttered. Glen was pretty good at getting kids to open up, and they both knew it. “I’ll be right down.”

  A quick exchange of words, and Glen elected to stay behind while Dan made his way through the lobby doors. In the parking lot, he shook the hand of a man-boy who towered over his own six-feet-two-inches. Basketball had been created for people like Sean and, if the loose-limbed senior stuck to the program, he’d make the starting string at Dan’s alma mater.

  “Let’s walk,” he said and headed for the retaining wall that ran along the river. “You got this all worked out? How’re you going to support yourself?” There wasn’t time to shoot the bull with the kid. If he couldn’t change Sean’s mind, there were immediate steps to take. Like finding a place for the boy to live. Glen and his wife, Maddy, put up with a lot of shenanigans, but no one broke the stay-in-school rule and remained under their roof.

  “I’ll get an apartment.” Sean’s soft voice belied an aggressive nature that served him well on the court. “I got a good job at Home Depot. I’m working thirty hours a week, and in a year, I’ll make floor manager. It’s enough.”

  Not by a long shot. Without a high school diploma, the hardware chain was unlikely to move him forward. Even if it did, a year without insurance or benefits meant the kid’s life teetered on the edge of disaster.

  “Man, we had a plan,” Dan said. The state provided free tuition for the handful of foster kids who stayed in school long enough to use it. Sean’s grades had earned scholarship money for the rest. “You’re going to stay with Glen till the summer session starts at UF. Once you’re there, your coaches, they’ll watch out for you. You’ll play some ball, get a good education, and build a life—a real life—for yourself.”

  Sean folded massive hands across his chest. “Like I told Mr. Glen, I gotta do this.”

  Pressing the issue wasn’t going to change the boy’s mind. Dan tried another angle.

  “Okay, so you have to. Eight bucks an hour won’t put much food on the table. You’ll still have rent to pay. What’s your backup plan?”

  Sean’s chin rose. “I’m big and I’m strong. I can pick up another job if I have to.”

  “You’re also smart.” Too smart to throw away his future over a dead-end job. There had to be more at stake. “What’s all this about, Sean? I thought we had you squared away.”

  “It’s time for me to step up and be the man of my family.” Sean’s bluster faded, and his shoulders rounded in a way that spoke volumes. His hands dropped to his sides. “It’s my sister, Doc.”

  “Regina?”

  The boy nodded. “I need to take care of her.”

  Dan winced at the naiveté of kids who thought they could make it on their own. Much less, care for someone else.

  “We’ve been over this,” he said. “Eighteen’s too young to be fending for yourself, but the state won’t cover you anymore.” His own anger at a system that cut kids loose while most were still in high school threatened to filter through. He took a breath before he continued. “The best thing is to get your own education. Then, you can turn around and help her.”

  “Be too late then. They’re movin’ her into a group home. She’s too little for that shit.” Sean’s voice strained and tapered into silence.

  Dan’s steps slowed. The boy’s half sibling hadn’t inherited his genes for size or strength. She’d have a tough time holding her own in the winner-take-all atmosphere of a facility that was more institution than house. Knowing the only constant about foster care was that no one stayed in one place very long, he still had to ask, “What happened? We had it worked out for her to live with the Mayers.”

  Sean’s tone turned derisive. “He got laid off and lost the house. They’re movin’ at the end of the week.”

  Dan suppressed a groan. The family had taken in six kids. Family Services would be hard pressed to place all of them. Despite her size, Regina was the oldest and a prime candidate for the housing option of last resort.

  “I promised my mom I’d watch out for her. Now I need to make good.” Sean’s voice wavered.

  His good intentions wouldn’t protect his sister when they both got tossed out on the street, but the boy would never agree that she was better off in the system than out of it.

  “Let me make some calls, okay?” Dan ran down a too-short list of alternatives and knew better than to make promises. He wrapped one arm around the kid and pulled him close enough to give him a bear hug which, considering Sean outweighed him by fifty pounds, was a pretty good analogy. “You go on to school with Mr. Glen and give me a chance to work this out. I’ll do my best.”

  Having spent three-quarters of his life being shuffled from one temporary home to another, Sean knew the score. His chin jutted out. “It might take more than that.” His voice firm, he stepped back. “You got till the end of the week when the Mayers move out. After that, I don’t have a choice.”

  All long legs and arms, the boy loped across the parking lot. The Jeep he folded himself into bore scars from hordes of young men who had taken their first driving lesson behind a steering wheel that was practically held together by duct tape and prayer. Dan had been one of those boys, and he wanted to tell Sean that life wouldn’t always be this hard.

  “Stick with the program,” he whispered.

  When he was a kid, Glen and Maddy had helped him make the right choices, but they couldn’t do it all. One day, Connections House would be the answer. For the past few years, Dan had been planning the home for kids who’d “aged out” of the foster system. But he still needed a lot more revenue to get started. Profits from The Aegean would finally allow him to make his dream a reality. Once the house was up and running, a kid like Sean would have a place to live and people to help him stay in school, teach him how to shop, keep a job, open a checking account. It wouldn’t solve all that was wrong with the system, but it was a start.

  Wishing he could open the house today, Dan trailed a group of office workers heading back from lunch. He gave Glen’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, waking the man from the nap he’d managed in one of the dozen chairs scattered throughout the busy lobby.

  “It’s Regina,” Dan announced. “He’s convinced he has to take care of her. He’ll drop out if he has to. Did you know the Mayers were moving?”

  “Well, that’s not good.” With a sigh that said he’d been down this road more often than he liked, Glen rose and stretched. “You gotta admire the boy’s sense of responsibility, though.”

 
The lines around Glen’s face had deepened and his hair had turned from salt-and-pepper to silver in the years since Dan’d moved out on his own. His foster parents no longer took in young children, and he squelched the idea of asking them to make an exception.

  “Yeah, but you and I both know it won’t last. Oh, they’d be fine for a while. We could get ’em into subsidized housing. Sean’s got a lot of heart so they’d make it work…till one of them got sick. Or until there were cutbacks at the store and he was laid off. Then, they’d wind up on the street, or worse, and we’d lose two lives rather than one.”

  “That’s what I love about you.” Glen nudged him with an elbow. “Always looking on the bright side.”

  “I’ll make some calls, find her a new placement.”

  “Look at it this way—at least it’s something we can fix. If he’d gotten some gal pregnant… Well, that’d be another story.”

  Dan laughed, but there wasn’t anything funny about teenage pregnancy. He was living proof they didn’t always turn out like those sappy movies of the week on the cable channel, though his mom had done the best she could.

  “I’ve got some news you’ll want to hear,” he said.

  “Remember me telling you about Bryce Jones? Plastic surgeon, head of the Medical Society. I played poker with him and some guys the other night.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Glen prodded. “How much did you take them for?”

  “You know me too well, but this time I broke even. Had to.” He let his smile broaden. “You’re talking to the newest member on The Aegean’s board of directors. It’s an elite cosmetic surgical center, and I’ve been asked to join.”

  “You’re not moving to plastic surgery, are you?”

  “Of course not,” he answered. “But with the money I make from this, I can fund Connections House, and then some. I’ve been out to look at the land. It’s a great site. Right on the river.”