Man Of The Family

“It’s a stupid watch. I didn’t even like it.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion. To me, it’s a fun piece of jewelry. It reminds me that I don’t always have to take life so seriously. There’s the buttoned-down suit I have to wear for work, and then there’s my little rebellion.” She paused. “What’s yours, Amanda?”

A shrug was her only answer, but her gaze shifted away from Sunny.

“You must have known you’d get caught,” she said softly. “You even laid this watch on a bureau where your father would see it.”

Another shrug. A tiny tremor of her mouth.

From the yard Sunny heard the clang of horseshoes hitting a post. Her dad’s laughter and then little Josh’s giggles rang out. Her parents’ friends and neighbors were talking, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Except Amanda, of course.

“In my years as a prosecutor, I’ve often been called upon to feel out a witness, and, many times, it’s been a girl like you.” She hesitated. “I was once a teenager myself,” she said. “I’ve become a good listener.”

Amanda gazed out the window toward where everyone else was having fun. Her glance, her every motion, told Sunny how unhappy she was. She had to fight the urge to pull Amanda into her arms, as she would have Ana Ramirez, saving her from Wallace Day. Saving the girl Sunny used to be.

She tried once more. “Do you have something against me, Amanda?”

Griffin’s daughter looked startled, as if that had never occurred to her.

“No,” she finally said in a sullen tone. Eyes still on the window.

“Then taking my watch just seemed like a good idea at the time?” Sunny’s tone was wry. “A matter of poor impulse control?”

“I guess.” At last, she looked away from the window. “Can I go now?”

Sunny wanted to say no. There was more here, hidden beneath the surface, but she wasn’t prepared to interrogate the girl. Amanda was Griffin’s responsibility. At least he’d made her admit to the theft. And she didn’t seem to resent Sunny personally. Maybe she had a grudge against Career Day.

“You may go,” she said. “I appreciate the apology.”

Amanda made a scoffing sound. “Don’t think it means anything.”

The door closed behind her while Sunny was still pondering the words.

* * *

GRIFFIN TOOK HIS TIME. He helped Josh play another game of horseshoes. He hung around the cooler with the Cabots’ friends and neighbors and even enjoyed the sense of camaraderie with new people who had no idea of his life before, or even now. He took his turn at the grill, searing hot dogs and seasoning burgers and slathering ribs with more sauce. Slowly, he could feel himself begin to unwind.

He’d needed this. Since the move from Boston he hadn’t had much opportunity to socialize except chatting now and then with the residents. With the kids to consider, he’d had little spare time. The sum total of his circle outside of work had been Bron and Chris. Now, sharing laughter and corny jokes, he told himself that his own apology to Sunny could wait.

Chris sauntered toward him, looking around the yard. “Where’s my sister?”

Bron, her arm linked with his, smiled at him. “Keeping a low profile.”

“She’s avoiding me,” Griffin said.

But he was keeping out of her way, too. It was as if they’d made some secret pact.

“Why?” Bron asked. “Because you exchanged a few words about the watch?”

He flinched. Did the whole town know about Amanda?

“And when Mandi came outside,” Bron went on, “she said she had apologized.” Amanda was in a group of younger kids now, and it looked as though she was teasing—or bullying?—one of them. Griffin kept an eye on her.

“I doubt that cleared the air with Sunny.”

“Well, today it should,” Bron said, then dragged Chris away. Dinner was almost ready, and the heavy, mouthwatering aroma of barbecue filled the air.

“Remember,” Chris called over his shoulder. “You, me, Bron and Sunny. Some night. Soon.”

Yeah, sure. Like that would work out any better than his last conversation with Sunny. No matter how pretty she looked.

The back door opened. And here she came in cutoff shorts and a one-shoulder shirt, walking across the yard with a pair of bowls in her hands. Potato salad and baked beans, he saw. Griffin didn’t hesitate. He jumped to relieve her of one of them and got a faint smile in return.

“Thanks. If you want to help, there’s more where these came from.”

She lingered at the table until he’d gone inside. When he came out again with his three-bean salad and a fresh six-pack of sodas for the cooler, she headed for the house.

When everyone sat down to eat, she chose the farthest seat from his on the opposite side of the table. Josh, however, was near Sunny, sticking close to Jack’s side. Amanda was giggling with some other girls, eating dinner with them on a blanket under a big oak tree. For the moment, he was off duty.

Trying not to notice how Sunny kept her distance, he tucked into his dinner. The corn on the cob was sweet and juicy. Jack’s famous spareribs practically melted in his mouth, and the spicy yet mellow barbecue sauce was perfection. Kate’s homemade lemonade capped off the superb feast.

By the time everyone finished, the sun was sinking low in the sky. Griffin bused plates and plastic cups to the kitchen, scraped bits into the garbage—there wasn’t much of the delicious food to be tossed—then ambled out into the yard again.

Still at the table, Josh was enjoying a huge slab of watermelon for dessert, his chin dripping juice. Amanda was with the girls under the tree, examining someone’s bracelet. He hoped it didn’t disappear. Jack and Chris had snuck around the corner of the house to savor their cigars with a few of the neighborhood men, but Griffin wasn’t a smoker. He didn’t care for the pungent scent that filled the air and competed with the lingering aroma of meat and veggies from the grill. He needed to set a good example for his kids.

Instead of joining the other men, he wandered to the corner of the back lawn for a rare moment alone. Feeling his spirit mellow, he gazed at the setting sun. Streaks of red and purple and pink spread out across the sky.

“Nothing like a Florida sunset,” he said to himself.

“Better than Boston?” Sunny’s voice brought his head around. She was bent over a nearby hibiscus bush with a pair of garden shears in her hand.

When she spoke, Griffin’s pulse took off like a runner from the starting gate. It was one thing to help her carry food for the cookout, quite another to be alone with her.

“Boston can be good,” he said, “but the show here is a lot more, well, showy.” Like the afternoon rains.

She dropped the scissors, then picked up a bunch of blossoms from the grass at her feet. She was still wearing the red polish that peeked out from her sandals. “I’ll leave you then, to commune with nature.”

“Wait.” Before he could tell himself not to, Griffin stopped her. And fumbled for an excuse. “Thanks,” he said at last. “I’m glad Amanda apologized. You were right. She did take your watch.”

Sunny half smiled. “And you didn’t let her get away with it.”

He shouldn’t care that she sounded proud of him. He shouldn’t be staring at that little uptilt at the corners of her mouth. “So, what am I missing?” he said, because nothing involving his daughter was ever simple these days. “Did she even sound sincere?”

“She...tried.” Sunny hesitated. “But you didn’t welcome my interference before, and I doubt you’ve changed your mind. I’m out of the advice-giving business.”

Ouch. Forcing his gaze away from her, he noticed the growing darkness. The sun had slipped lower in the sky, and the colors had bled into a deeper shade of almost burgundy that made her lighter shirt seem to glow. “I’m impressed, Counselor. Didn’t imagine you’d give up that easily.”

“I have my moments.” She shifted the flowers in her arms. Her watch sparkled on her wrist. “I need to put these in water. They won’t last long—but I keep trying. Except with Amanda,” she added, then took a step away.