Colton Christmas Protector (The Coltons of Texas #12)(63)
Reid frowned at his father while Eldridge considered his choice for moment. “Actually the stew sounds good. Reid?”
He held up two fingers, indicating she should make it two of the lunch specials.
As Celia walked away, Eldridge mumbled, “I’m dying anyway. Might as well speed up the process with a bacon cheeseburger or two.”
Reid propped his arms on the table and leaned toward his father, pitching his voice low. “Something you want to tell me about your health, old man? Is that what this whole fiasco has been about?”
Eldridge looked away, his fingers drumming restlessly on the Formica tabletop. “Tell me something, Reid. What’s been happening at the house since I disappeared? How did my loving family—” his tone belied the words “—respond to my absence? My presumed death?”
*
Fowler watched the gray December clouds scuttle across the sky, a reflection of his mood. He should be happy. Tiffany was having his baby, and she had agreed to marry him. He could settle down with her and raise their baby together and live happily ever after. Whatever the hell that meant. Tiffany seemed to think their future was going to be all roses and candlelight. And she did make him happy. The sex was certainly good, especially now that they were engaged. Tiff was more adventurous in bed now. And being pregnant had upped her libido. Good news all around. But...
But.
Fowler ground his back teeth together and squeezed the armrest of his leather desk chair as he stared out his office window at the horizon. There was always a but, wasn’t there? He should be completely happy, but he wasn’t. Too many things were still unresolved. Too many people still needed their comeuppance before he’d be satisfied. Too many questions needed answers. Fowler hated unfinished business, especially if he came out on the short end.
Eldridge was still missing. Hugh Barrington still hadn’t been arrested. And the control and running of Colton Inc. was still going to fall into the wrong hands if Eldridge’s will was enforced.
He couldn’t do anything about his missing father, and his personal lawyers were looking into challenging his father’s will. But Hugh Barrington was a pebble in his Stefano Bemer wingtips. He was tired of *footing around with the man. The family had trusted him to coax information from Hugh, but Fowler was out of patience.
Resolved to force Hugh into a corner, Fowler slapped his hands on the arms of his chair as he lunged out of the seat and strode to his office door. He snagged his suit coat from the coat tree as he marched out, barking at his secretary, “I’m going out.”
“How long will you be gone?” she called after him.
“As long as it takes to nail Barrington’s ass to the wall!”
Chapter 17
After his meltdown over the cell phone, Penelope had put Nicholas down for a nap and set about trying to salvage the burner cell phone. Once she’d done all she could with the mobile phone, she tried to kill time reading. But her thoughts kept straying to Reid, his mission to find his father, and her future. Would Reid be part of her life in the months and years to come?
Hearing Nicholas’s plaintive-sounding cry, Penelope hurried in to check on her napping son. The minute she saw him sitting up on the bed, his eyes bleary and his cheeks flushed, she knew something was desperately wrong.
“I’m here, sweetie. What is it?” she cooed as she sat on the edge of the bed.
Rather than reach for her, as he usually did when she retrieved him from his naps, Nicholas tugged at his ear and stared blankly ahead as he sobbed pitifully. A light touch to his forehead confirmed her fear. Her baby was burning up with fever.
Worry swept through her, knocking her breath from her like a giant wave in the ocean. Crisis moments like this were the times she missed Andrew the most, when she felt the most overwhelmed by the job of single-parenting. Andrew had always been so good in an emergency. His first-responder training and laid-back personality had helped calm her when her first instinct was to panic.
Easing Nicholas into her arms, she stroked her son’s fiery head and fought down the swell of emotion crowding her thoughts. She needed to think clearly. The first thing Andrew always told her was not to panic. Drawing a deep breath, she focused her thoughts.
Nicholas needed a doctor. Possibly an antibiotic if his ears had an infection, which based on his history was quite likely. Calling for an ambulance seemed an extreme measure, especially when she didn’t know exactly where she was to give them an address.
She checked her watch. The pediatric clinic she typically used only worked half days on Fridays and would be open only another thirty minutes. Could she get there in time?
Nicholas had had badly infected ears in the past, and her doctor had warned her that failure to get him help quickly could mean his eardrum could burst. She had already been talking with her pediatrician about surgery to implant tubes in her baby’s ears when the holidays were over. Now she wished she’d done the procedure earlier.
Acid anxiety swirled in her gut. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take a calming breath. Pull it together, Penelope. Think. Do. Nicholas needs you now.
Exhaling through her mouth, she gathered her thoughts as she paced the floor with Nicholas limp on her shoulder, whining pitifully. She went to yoga class with one of the nurses who worked at the pediatric clinic. Maybe Linda would convince the doctor to stay late if she told them she was on her way?