Shielding her son, p.6
Shielding Her Son, page 6
James waited for Lance to return to his lane, then dropped his protection goggles back over his eyes. He still didn’t think law enforcement was for him, but the people of Carling Lake were definitely growing on him.
Chapter Eight
The third contractor of the morning was politely laughing Erika off the phone when the banging at her front door started. She peeked around the wall separating the kitchen from the foyer and through the side windows, and saw Daisy standing on her porch.
“The best I could do for you is to have someone out there in late May,” the contractor on the other end of the phone line said as Erika opened the door to let Daisy in.
“Thanks anyway,” Erika replied before ending the call.
“I bought you dinner for tonight and some staples that should keep you for a few days. What are you doing out of bed?” Daisy breezed through the front door and into the kitchen, a casserole dish in her hands and a recyclable shopping bag hanging from her arm.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that. I’m fine. I rested all day yesterday. And most of the morning. Steven Sanchez offered to take Marcus to school for the rest of this week.”
Erika made a mental note to thank Devin’s fathers for everything they’d done for her over the last several days and followed Daisy into the kitchen. “I have to find a contractor to finish the work on the house.”
“Ugh.” Daisy made a face. “I heard Sam left you in the lurch.” She put the casserole in the refrigerator and set the grocery bag on the island counter. “I thought he had more integrity than that.”
So had Erika. She’d known Sam for the last eight years, ever since she’d moved to Carling Lake, and she’d heard nothing but great things about him and his work. He’d done the heavy lifting on renovating the kitchen three years ago when she’d purchased the house. “Ellis has a lot of influence and deeper pockets than I do. No one wants to run afoul of him.”
Daisy slammed a loaf of bread onto the counter. “That doesn’t excuse Sam. He had a contract with you and he should have kept his word and done the job he’d agreed to do.”
Erika grabbed a jar of peanut butter and a box of ready-made pancake mix and walked to the pantry. “I’m not disagreeing with you but I can’t make him do the work so I have to find someone who will.”
“Any luck?”
Erika’s gaze traveled to the window. She’d glimpsed James this morning out on his porch. She’d spent the night feeling guilty for how dismissive she’d been of his offer to help with the renovations. He was only being nice, neighborly. Which had instantly aroused her suspicions. But maybe she was letting her general mistrust of people cloud her judgment. “No.”
Daisy braced herself against the counter. “Okay, give,” she said with interest in her eyes.
“Give what?” Erika worked to wipe whatever Daisy had seen in her expression from her face.
“Why did you just shoot a longing look out the window at your gorgeous neighbor’s cabin?”
Erika rolled her eyes. “I didn’t shoot a longing look anywhere.” Daisy stared. “I may have glanced out the window.” Daisy continued staring through narrowed eyes. “Okay, James was here when Sam quit and he offered to help me finish the renovations.”
“That’s awfully nice of him,” Daisy said, eyebrows wagging suggestively.
“What are you, twelve? Come on.” Erika gave her friend a good-natured shoulder bump. “He’s a complete stranger. I said no.”
“Why? You need help. He can help. How much do you need to know about the man who’s installing a toilet for you?”
When Daisy laid it out that way, it did seem like she might be being a bit overcautious.
Erika pushed away from the counter and grabbed the electric teapot, filling it with water before setting it to boil.
“And maybe he’d be willing to do a little renovation on your love life.” Daisy slid out of the way when Erika went to shoulder bump her again. “Come on. I’ve lived here for a year and you haven’t gone out on one date in that time. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you haven’t been on a date since you moved to Carling Lake.”
“Now that’s not true. I have been on a date in the last eight years.”
A few years after she’d moved to Carling Lake, she’d briefly dated a man who was also new to the area. Unfortunately, he found the mountain air and small town did not work with his city sensibilities and had moved back to the West Coast after a few months.
“Okay, but how long ago was that?” Daisy didn’t wait for Erika to answer. “From the way James was looking at you in the hospital, he’d totally go for it. There is definitely chemistry between the two of you.”
“There is no chemistry. And he’s a tourist.” Liar. She recalled the butterflies in her stomach when he’d driven her home. She was attracted to James West. Erika reached into the cabinet for two teacups.
“Which makes him perfect for your purposes. You can ease back into the dating game, no pressure, no long-term expectations. Just some good old-fashioned adult fun.” Daisy wiggled her eyebrows.
“Daisy!”
But now that Daisy had placed the idea in her head, she wondered if that was why James had offered to help her with her house? He had to have some reason for making the offer, right? Had he assumed the small-town single mom would be open to a fling?
“What? I’m talking about dinner, maybe dancing.” Daisy tried for an innocent expression and failed. “What did you think I was talking about?” Daisy couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice and Erika found herself laughing along with her friend.
“Look, I am not interested in a man at this point in my life,” Erika said, carrying her tea to the kitchen table and sitting.
Daisy followed with her own cup. “Remember a couple of days ago when you and I were at the coffee shop in town and James jogged by. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head.”
“It’s February in New York and he was out jogging in a sleeveless T-shirt and shorts. Anybody would have stared. I was merely concerned that the man was going to get hypothermia,” Daisy said, fanning herself dramatically.
“That man is too hot to ever have to worry about hypothermia.”
“Ah, you are incorrigible. Okay, I will admit, he’s hot. I shamelessly ogled all those rippling muscles as he jogged past. Are you happy now?”
“Thrilled!” Daisy said, clapping.
“This changes nothing. I’m not getting involved with a tourist.”
“But you should let him help you with the renovations.” Daisy held up a hand when Erika opened her mouth to protest. “It’s the only way you’ll get done in time to file the occupancy papers and get the permit before March, and you know it.”
“I have a few more contractors to call. Maybe one of them has had a job fall through or is in a slow period.”
Daisy’s expression was doubtful.
Erika glanced at her watch. “Hey, I don’t mean to rush you out but I want to stop by the Weekly before I pick up Marcus.”
“Do you not understand the words take it easy?”
She knew her friend was just watching out for her, but Daisy’s tone still grated. “I do, but I also have a job to do. And it’s not like checking in and going through my email is taxing work.”
At the front door, Daisy pulled her into a hug. “Call if you need anything.” Letting go, Daisy bounded out the door and down the porch steps before turning back. “And think about letting your hot neighbor help you with your renovations. All your renovations,” her friend said, laughing as she hopped into her car and drove away.
Thirty minutes later, Erika walked into the lobby of the Carling Lake Weekly and was unsurprised to find the reception desk empty. She worked as a part-time reporter. The Weekly’s other two employees were the owners Aaron and Margaret Sutton. Everyone in town knew to go right up to the second floor if they had business at the Weekly.
Erika moved through the lobby, casting only a passing glance at the framed front pages decorating the walls. Beyond the lobby area was the large room that housed the printers. The Weekly was one of the only local newspapers that still maintained its own printing facilities. The Suttons supplemented the income the Weekly brought in by handling the printing for several of the surrounding towns’ weekly newspapers as well.
The second floor was set up bullpen-style. The three employee desks sat in a loose circle about six feet apart from one another. There was a conference room in one corner of the room and a small break room in the other.
Aaron looked up from the bulky computer screen on his desk as Erika walked into the bullpen. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here.” Erika quirked an eyebrow. “Unless you’re trying to tell me something?”
When she’d pulled into Carling Lake eight years ago with a two-year-old in tow and relatively few references, she’d expected to have to pick up a job waitressing or manning the cash register at a fast-food joint to make ends meet. She would have been fine with that. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Since leaving the Overholts two years prior, she’d not stayed in one place longer than six months. That had made it very difficult to develop a solid résumé. She’d also been too afraid that working in journalism might lead to the Overholts one day accidentally discovering where she was and that she had a son who, with each passing year, looked more and more like his father.
The only job available when she’d gone to town had been the receptionist position at the Weekly. She’d accepted the position. It paid a lot more than waitressing and allowed her to save toward the down payment she needed to buy the B&B and start a new dream.
From the moment she’d started working at the Weekly, Aaron, Margaret and their son, Francis, had taken her and Marcus into their family. Soon enough, she was feeling the itch to get back on a beat. It took over a year to convince herself that none of the Overholts would be caught dead reading a small-town paper. She’d approached Aaron about creating a part-time staff reporter position and, despite the fact that she couldn’t tell him about her degree in journalism, he’d given her a chance.
“You know what I mean. Lance called Margaret and told her about your fall yesterday, although she’d already heard it through the town grapevine. We would have come by to see you but the sheriff put out the word you needed rest.”
“I know. I got Margaret’s voice mail and the flowers she sent were at the house when I woke up this morning.”
“Why aren’t you at home resting?”
“I rested all day yesterday and this morning. I need to do something.”
Aaron screwed up his face. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m just here to check my email. See if I got any response from the federal government on my FOIA request.” Erika took a seat at her desk and booted up her computer.
The Freedom of Information Act was a federal law every journalism student became intimately familiar with. Many a big story had come from combing through information the law compelled the government to turn over to an intrepid journalist.
“That could have waited another day or two,” he said, surliness tinging his tone.
“But I couldn’t have.” She ignored Aaron’s frown and scrolled through her emails.
As a twenty-something journalism student, she’d imagined a career as an investigative reporter in a big city at a nationally recognized newspaper. Then during her junior year, her mother had gotten sick. Her illness had been unexpected and had claimed her mother’s life quickly. When she met Ronald, she’d been alone and deeply depressed, on her way to failing out of school. Roland had seemed like a bright light at the end of an endlessly dark tunnel. And he had been until Ronald went to work for his father’s company.
She shook off those memories. That was all in the past. She enjoyed her job at the Carling Lake Weekly. It may not have been the LA Times, but she was honored to work with the Suttons and proud of how they kept the community informed of important news.
But over the years, she’d found herself entertaining the dream of running a bed-and-breakfast. Maybe it was the influence of living in a tourist town. Or maybe more than just her name had changed when she left LA. Maybe her dreams had, too. Whatever it was, she was looking forward to becoming a business owner.
There was no response to her FOIA request, but she did find an email from a familiar sender. The source had first contacted her several weeks earlier via an email with an attached letter showing the town of Carling Lake had been awarded a three-hundred-thousand-dollar grant from the feds for the restoration of city hall. Whatever message the sender was trying to convey, she hadn’t gotten it.
The restoration of the historic city hall building was a constant topic at council meetings. After several years, the town had finally allocated the funds for the renovations. She had covered many of those council meetings and she couldn’t remember hearing anything about the town applying for or winning a grant. She’d followed up with Susan Garraus, the treasurer, and Ellis Hanes, who served as town mayor, but they’d both claimed to know nothing about the grant. She called the federal office that had supposedly awarded the grant, but the contact person hadn’t returned any of her more than a half dozen calls inquiring about the money. Hence, her as yet unanswered FOIA request.
Her reporter instincts had tingled, but without more, there was nothing for her to pursue.
Erika clicked on the new email from the source. Unlike the first email, this one included a message in addition to an attachment.
WHERE IS THE MONEY?
She opened the attached document. It was another letter, only this time the government was demanding the town provide evidence that the three-hundred-thousand-dollar grant had been used as outlined in the grant application.
Where’s the money?
That was the three-hundred-thousand-dollar question. The government clearly believed it had sent the money to Carling Lake. So where was it?
Her instincts were tingling again. There was something to this, she was sure. She just had to sniff out the story.
“What are you looking at so intensely?” Aaron asked from his desk.
“Another email about the grant.”
“The one that Ellis and Susan say doesn’t exist.”
“One and the same. Only according to this demand letter I’m looking at, the government not only thinks the money exists, they think Carling Lake has it.”
Aaron stood and came around the desks. He read the letter over her shoulder. “It definitely looks like they do. And you haven’t heard anything about your FOIA request.”
Erika shook her head. “Only that they received it and there are responsive documents.”
Aaron rubbed his chin. “I have a few reporter friends in DC. I’ll call them and see if they have any contacts at the office they’re willing to share with me.”
“Thanks. I’m going to visit Susan again. Maybe she’s turned up something since we last spoke.”
Aaron’s eyebrow arched. “Rest. Lance specifically said the doctor mentioned you needed rest.”
Erika glanced at the clock on her computer screen. She logged out of the system and grabbed her purse, dropping a kiss on the older man’s cheek as she slid past. “I’ve got to pick up Marcus. I’ll see you later.”
* * *
AS EXPECTED, THE parents waiting outside Carling Lake Elementary for their kids to come running out of the school building at the sound of the dismissal bell had heard about her fall. Erika accepted the words of concern, demurred on offers of help and deflected attempts to pry the story out of her of how she’d fallen. Undoubtedly, whatever the gossip mill had dreamed up was far more entertaining than the truth, anyway.
The school bell finally rang. Erika’s heart swelled to nearly bursting when she caught sight of Marcus running across the playground with his arms outstretched.
Marcus bowled into her, pushing her back into the fencing surrounding the playground yard and making her sore muscles tighten. Not that she minded a bit. Hugs from her nearly eleven-year-old son were coming fewer and further between as the years ticked by and she savored every one he willingly gave.
“How was your day? Are you still okay?” Marcus leaned back, but kept his arms around her waist. His big brown eyes emanated concern.
Her heart twisted at the worry etched on her son’s face. Marcus had barely left her side the evening before, bustling about the house, making sure she was comfortable. He’d made them dinner, two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a salad, which had mostly just been lettuce, but he was proud of himself, so she happily ate it. He’d even let her have control over the television remote. Her son was turning into a kind, caring, self-sufficient young man and she couldn’t have been prouder.
“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” They stood partially blocking one of the exits, parents and kids streaming around them, but Erika ignored the looks.
“I know you said you were fine, but I was still a little worried about you being on your own all day.” Marcus looked up at her sheepishly.
“Now you know how I feel whenever you’re out of my sight.” She dropped a kiss on his forehead.
“Mooomm!” Marcus stepped from her arms, scanning the playground to see if any of his friends had seen him get a kiss from his mother.
“Come on,” she said, smiling and pulling him back to her side. “I thought we could stop by Moulton’s and get a couple of cones before heading home.”
“Definitely!” Marcus bounced up and down with excitement. Like her, Marcus ascribed to the idea that ice cream wasn’t just for the summer months.
