Harbor Street (Cedar Cove #5)(36)

Cecilia had suspected trouble the instant she’d seen the boy, and the few things she’d heard had only confirmed that opinion. Everything about Anson screamed attitude, from his street-length gunslinger black coat to the spiked bracelet. She hadn’t liked the idea of Allison hanging around with him, but had kept her opinions to herself.

“Anson came to you for help?” Cecilia repeated, wanting to be sure she understood. She didn’t press Allison with questions about what Anson had done, for fear she’d stop confiding in her.

The girl nodded.

“What could you do?” Cecilia was annoyed that the boy had expected Allison to solve his problems.

“I took him to talk to my dad,” Allison explained. “I knew Dad would help and he has. Dad’s been really wonderful.”

“What did your father do?”

Allison swallowed hard. “Dad said Anson had to turn himself in to the police.” She lifted her gaze to Cecilia’s. “I know you’re probably wondering what Anson did, but…I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Turning himself in was a good start, in Cecilia’s view. Her mother had drilled the concept of personal responsibility into her from a young age. Her father, on the other hand, tried to avoid it whenever he could.

“Did Anson take your father’s advice and go to the police?”

Allison raised her chin slightly, as though proud of her juvenile delinquent boyfriend. “It was really hard, but he was willing to own up to what he’d done. Dad called his attorney friend and then he drove Anson to the sheriff’s department.”

“Barry Creech?” Cecilia asked. She knew the attorney was a client of Mr. Cox’s and that seemed a logical guess.

“Yes.” Allison twisted the tissue in her fingers. “Dad said Mr. Creech specializes in juvenile offenses and he’d know how to handle this.”

Cecilia had assumed Anson was already eighteen, but when she mentioned that, Allison shook her head. “Anson turns eighteen next month, and we were afraid the court would want to try him as an adult because he’s close to legal age.” Sighing heavily, she gave Cecilia a weak smile. “I know you don’t like Anson.”

“It isn’t that I don’t like him…”

“My mom doesn’t, either—but Cecilia, you’re both wrong about him! Anson is a good person. He hasn’t had an easy life, you know. His mother’s awful…I don’t even want to get into it about his mother. She’s evil.”

Cecilia didn’t want to get into it, either. Abe Lincoln had a hard life, too, but he didn’t go around committing crimes. “Does Anson have a police record?”

“No,” Allison said irritably, which suggested this was a question she’d answered more than once. “He’s never done anything like this before.”

In other words, he’d never gotten caught. “What did Mr. Creech advise him to do?”

“He said the same thing Dad did, that Anson should turn himself in to the authorities. He met Anson and talked to his mother, and she said he’s on his own.” Allison’s pretty face tightened in a scowl. “Dad met Anson’s mom, too, and after that he said he’d go to court with Anson. The judge has to accept the plea agreement Mr. Creech worked out with the prosecutor. He has to.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “His own mother won’t even be in court with him.”

“Okay,” Cecilia said in a soothing voice, “so Mr. Creech was able to get a plea agreement with the prosecutor.”

Allison dabbed at her eyes with the shredded tissue. “Yes, and Dad says it’s a good one. Mr. Creech got the prosecutor to try Anson as a juvenile. That means this won’t be on his permanent record, as long as he maintains all the terms of the plea bargain.”

Cecilia wasn’t convinced that keeping his record clean was necessarily a good thing. She just hoped Anson appreciated everything Mr. Cox and Allison were doing for him. Somehow she doubted it.

“The prosecutor agreed to let Anson do community service hours, plus he has to pay restitution, stay in school and graduate on time.”

“He’ll need a job if he’s going to pay restitution.” She tried to figure out exactly what kind of mischief Anson had gotten into.

“Dad helped him there, too,” Allison said with such pride her eyes shone. “The Gundersons own The Lighthouse restaurant, and Dad knows Mrs. Gunderson from when she worked at the bank. He called her, and she said they needed a dishwasher and they’d be willing to hire Anson. It’s only minimum wage, but Mr. Gunderson said if Anson worked hard and proved himself, he’d consider training him for other positions when they become available.”

“Great.”

“Anson’s really excited. He doesn’t have a car or anything, but he’s willing to take the bus.”

That sounded like a big concession on Anson’s part, Cecilia thought cynically. Still this was a light sentence; having to get a job and do a few community service hours didn’t seem all that harsh. “Does he have to do anything else?”

Allison put the sodden tissue in her pocket. “He has to stay out of trouble for a year, comply with everything the court ordered and the fire won’t appear on his record.”

Fire. The word didn’t escape Cecilia’s notice. So Anson had started a fire. There’d been a piece in The Chronicle recently about the tool shed at the community park burning down. According to the article, it had been the act of an arsonist. Cecilia wondered if that was Anson’s handiwork, and guessed it was.