He’d driven her from the police station to her place at the Opera House, called Frankie and asked her to come. While Hadley was in the shower, he made her a grilled cheese sandwich and then waited till Frankie arrived. Hadley was pale and didn’t seem to want to talk. She seemed, in fact, embarrassed. And something more, too. Whatever it was, Jack just wanted to get back to his grandfather, and the second Frankie arrived, he got back in his truck and returned to the hospital.
Since then, he’d been swamped with family responsibilities. Dad was quite a softy, as everyone knew, and Jack spent as much time as he could with him, the two younger John Hollands keeping vigil over the eldest. Jack also made sure to check on the business end of Blue Heron, Honor’s domain, to make sure his sister wasn’t too swamped, but the ever-capable Jessica Dunn seemed to be holding down the fort just fine. He called Faith twice a day, because she was due momentarily, and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t overdoing it, because she’d been staying with Goggy. He dropped by Pru’s house to see how Abby was; she’d never lost anyone close to her.
Then he drove back to Blue Heron to filter the wine and check the sediment, because it was almost time to bottle and those things couldn’t wait. He made his calls, stopped by Hadley’s (she’d been doing a lot of sleeping, according to Frankie), then went back to the hospital, then home.
Three days after the heart attack, Pops went back to the apartment at Rushing Creek. He was now on Lipitor and Coumadin with instructions to stop eating cheese, ice cream, whole milk and “anything good,” in his words. He was weaker, but Jeremy called him “ridiculously healthy” despite his horrifying cholesterol level. Jack checked in with him and Goggy every night, because, despite his grandmother’s protestations, he was worried about her, too. Neither grandparent was young, and Pops’s scare had reminded everyone of that.
And now, four days after Pops’s heart attack, Jack found himself driving from the hospital to Emmaline’s little house on Water Street. Dusk was falling, and the lake was cobalt, a fat moon rising over the ridge.
He had the feeling he owed her an apology.
Being wrong wasn’t a feeling Jack was used to. His sisters liked to call him the prince, the son and heir, and there was some truth to that. He knew his father had wanted a son—Mom, too—and he wasn’t named John Noble Holland IV for nothing. All his life, he’d tried to do the right thing. He’d been an A student, an Eagle Scout, as good a brother as he could manage, having the occasional tea party with Faith, teaching Honor to drive, babysitting for Pru and Carl when Ned was a baby. His mom had thought he was pretty damn perfect, and Dad didn’t think it—he believed it with his whole heart.
In truth, Jack could think of two times he’d made a significant mistake. One, the time he’d jumped off the falls up near the ruins of the old stone barn and broken his arm. Two, marrying Hadley.
Calling Emmaline a bully...yeah, okay. That was number three.
* * *
“CAN I SEE you a minute?” Emmaline asked, standing in the doorway of Levi’s office. It was nearly quitting time.
“Sure. Come on in.”
She did, closing the door behind her. Levi had heard about the incident with Hadley...and Jack’s reaction. Of course he had. Carol had told him the second he walked through the door, and Gerard had come over five minutes later with the same gossip.
She opened her mouth to speak, then found that her throat was tight. Not with the stutter. With tears. The stutter had slunk back to its hole, though last night, when Angela had practically goose-stepped her to O’Rourke’s, Em’s heart had been thundering, positive someone was going to say “H-h-hi, Eh-Eh-Emmaline,” same as they had back in the day.
No one did. But people knew, anyway. Colleen even sent drinks on the house.
“What can I do for you, Deputy?” Levi asked.
“How’s Mr. Holland?” she asked, even though she already knew. Word was out that the old guy was back at Rushing Creek, complaining that he already missed the pretty cardiologist who’d taken care of him.
“He’s fine,” Levi said. “He’s doing really well, actually.”
“Good. And Faith?”
“Very ripe.” His mouth tugged up.
“You’ll make a great dad, Levi.”
“Thanks.” He kept looking at her—it was a trick of his, that patient stare—and she broke.
“I’m thinking I should quit.”
“Quit what?”
“This job.”
More staring, then, “Unacceptable, Deputy.”
She swallowed. “I screwed up, Chief. With Hadley. I didn’t handle the situation well, and things just escalated. I didn’t check on her.” She looked at her hands. Probably time to take off that old nail polish she’d put on for stupid Kevin’s wedding. “Maybe I’m not a good cop,” she said, her voice husky. “She was in crisis mode, and I didn’t take care of her.”
Levi sighed and sat back in his chair. “Listen,” he said. “You’re going to screw up from time to time on this job. It’s impossible not to. You investigate a call where you know the guy is beating his wife, but you can’t convince her to leave him. You cruise through a neighborhood, and you still miss the burglary.” He tapped a pencil against his desk, not looking at her. “You give a kid a lecture and ticket him whenever you can, and he still crashes into the lake.”
Ah, yes. Josh Deiner had had few brushes with the law.
“This doesn’t make you a bad cop,” Levi continued. “Hadley was drunk, you didn’t know she’d freak out the way she did and you had police business to take care of. If anyone screwed up here, it’s Everett. He knows the drill. He was supposed to check on her every fifteen minutes, and if I know him, he was playing on his phone.”
“I just feel like I...overreacted.” She swallowed. “Like maybe Jack was right. Maybe I did what I did because she’s Jack’s ex.”
“Emmaline,” Levi said in that overly patient voice he used when he was irritated. “Jack wasn’t right. You’re not a bully. You couldn’t be. If anything, you were too easy on her. So shut up about quitting, because if you leave me alone with Everett, I will hunt you down.” He smiled, and Em felt herself smiling back.
“Okay. Thanks, Chief.”
“Good. Now I have to get to the store because Faith is out of ice cream. You’re a good cop, Emmaline. You’re a very good cop. Are we done here?”
She sat there another minute.
“What?” Levi said.
“Nothing. Just...I love you, Levi.”
“Get out.”
“No, I’m serious. I love you. You’re the best boss ever.”
“You’ll hate yourself in the morning.” He gave her a smile. “You still mad at Jack?”
She scowled. “Who said I was mad at Jack?”
“You ate an entire box of donuts yesterday. You’ve traded in walking for stomping. You’re mad at Jack.”
“You’re right. Jack was— Wait a second. Am I really so pathetic that you want to talk about my personal life?”
Levi lifted an eyebrow.
“God. I’m leaving. See you tomorrow, Chief.”
Em waved to Everett, kissed Carol on her cute little head and got into her cruiser, feeling considerably better, at least on the work front. She drove home, went inside and was greeted by Sarge and Squeaky Chicken, who seemed to have lost an eye and half its beak. “Angela?” she called.
“Namaste,” Ange called. “Doing yoga up here. Be down in twenty minutes.”
Em took off her belt and hung it up, then pulled out her bun and went into the kitchen. Poured herself a glass of wine—Lyons Den, thank you very much; she was boycotting Blue Heron at the moment.
The phone rang, and without looking to see who it was, she answered, then immediately wished she hadn’t when she heard the voice on the other end.
“Hi, Mom,” she said. “Looking for Angela?” Sarge put Squeaky Chicken, soggy with drool, on her lap as a consolation prize.
“No, actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh. That’s, uh...that’s nice.” She pulled a face at her dog, who raised his eyebrows, as surprised as she was. “How are you?” She took a sip of wine. A big sip.
“Good. We’re moving to your area.”
Emmaline choked, sputtering wine on the phone, Squeaky Chicken and Sarge’s head. “Excuse me?”
“With both you and Angela there, we may as well.”
“And by ‘your area,’ what exactly are we talking about?”
“Manningsport.”
Dear God, I’m ready. Hurl down that thunderbolt. Love, Emmaline.
Mom was talking about proximity and the maternal bond. The habit of affection as influenced by visual recognition of loved ones. Her extremely close relationship with Angela. The usual.
Not once during high school did Mom and Dad mention moving here, to be closer not just to Emmaline, but to Nana, too.
Not once in the past three years that she’d made her life here had they ever talked about moving here. They’d barely visited. But they’d moved from Malibu to Palo Alto, sure. To be closer to Angela, and that hadn’t bothered Em, not really.
But the fact that they were coming here, on her turf, to be closer to Angela... A sudden flare of anger burned in her stomach.
“Yeah, do what you want,” she said. “I have to go. Someone’s here.”
Without saying goodbye, she hung up, then nearly fell out of the kitchen chair as someone knocked, as if she’d summoned them. Sarge galloped out of the kitchen, then hurled himself against the front door, and Em followed. “Down, killer,” she said as he whined and wagged. “At least pretend to be fierce, okay? You’re going to be a police dog someday, whether you like it or not.”
She opened the door, and her stomach burned again.
Jack.
“Hi,” he said.
“What can I do for you?” she asked. A little hard to play it frosty when her dog had wrapped both front paws around Jack’s work boot and was chewing on the laces.
“Can I come in?”
“Why?”
“Emmaline. Come on.”
“Fine.”
He came into the foyer and glanced around. “Is Angela here?” he asked.
“She’s upstairs doing yoga. Sarge, stop.” Sarge did stop, froze right in place, then raced into the other room and returned with Squeaky Chicken, whipping his head from side to side. Not the most dignified backdrop in the world, but hey.
“How’s your grandfather?” Emmaline asked.
“He’s good. Doing well.”
Yes, I know, because Levi told me, and Faith told me, but you didn’t say squat, Jack. “Glad to hear it,” she said.
“Thanks.”
She tried pulling Levi’s trick of staring and waiting.
It worked.
“Look,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “I may have overreacted a little the other day. I was under a lot of stress.”
“Mmm.”
“Sorry.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
Jack sighed, that “women are so difficult” sigh. Hell yeah, they were.
“Is that it?” she asked.
“Should there be more?”
“Nope. Have a good night.” She opened the door again.
“Emmaline, wait. Can I come in and actually sit down? Have a conversation with you?”
“I don’t think so, Jack.”
“Why?”
Because you called me a bully when I was only trying to help you and that idiot you married. Because you made me feel stupid and mean and unimportant. Because having you chew me out in front of my coworkers made me feel like I was in middle school again. Because you brought my stutter back. That’s why.