Rainshadow Road (Friday Harbor #2)(29)

The strongest memory Sam had of Kevin Pearson was back in seventh grade, when they’d been assigned as a team to do a report on someone in the medical or scientific field. It had entailed doing an interview with a local pharmacist, making a trifold poster board, and writing a paper on the history of pharmacology. In the face of Kevin’s procrastination and laziness, Sam had ended up doing everything himself. They had gotten an A, which Kevin had shared equally. But when Sam had protested that it wasn’t fair for Kevin to get half the credit for work he hadn’t done, Kevin had given him a contemptuous look.

“The reason I didn’t is because my dad wouldn’t let me,” Kevin had told him. “He said your parents are drunks.”

And Sam hadn’t been able to argue or deny it.

“You could have invited me to your house,” Sam had pointed out sullenly. “We could have done the poster board there.”

“Don’t you get it? You wouldn’t make it past the front door. No one wants their kids to be friends with a Nolan.”

Sam hadn’t been able to think of a reason why anyone should want to be friends with a Nolan. His parents, Jessica and Alan, had fought with no boundaries, no sense of decency, screaming in front of their children or neighbors, in front of anyone. They didn’t hesitate to broadcast secrets about money, sex, private matters. As they tore at each other and diminished themselves in the process, their children learned something about family life: They wanted nothing to do with it.

Not long after the science project with Kevin, when Sam had been about thirteen, his father had drowned in a boating accident. The family had fallen apart after that, no regular hours for eating or sleeping, no rules of any kind. It had surprised no one that Jessica drank herself to death in the five years following her husband’s death. And there had been no small amount of guilt in the fact that somewhere in the mass of grief, the Nolan offspring had found it a relief that she was gone. No more phone calls in the middle of the night to come pick up a mother who was too drunk to drive after making an exhibition of herself at the bar. No more humiliating jokes or comments from outsiders, no more crises popping up out of nowhere.

Years later, when Sam had bought the land at False Bay for the vineyard, he’d needed to rent some heavy-duty landscaping equipment, and he discovered that Kevin had started his own business. They’d talked over beers, exchanged a few jokes, even reminisced a little. As a favor, Kevin had done some work for Sam at a fraction of his usual price.

Unable to fathom why Kevin could be at his front door now, Sam reached out to shake hands. “Pearson. It’s been a while.”

“Good to see you, Nolan.”

They took measure of each other in a brief glance. Sam was privately struck by the thought that Kevin Pearson, whose family had never allowed a no-account Nolan to cross their threshold, was now visiting his home. The former schoolyard bully could no longer kick Sam’s ass or taunt him with his social inferiority. In all measurable ways, they were equals.

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts, Kevin walked in and cast a bemused smile around the entrance hall. “Place is coming along.”

“Keeps me busy,” Sam said amiably.

“I heard about you and Mark taking care of your niece.” Kevin hesitated. “Sorry about Vickie. She was a great gal.”

Even if she was a Nolan, Sam thought, but he only said, “Holly and I are about to have lunch. You want some food?”

“No, thanks, I can’t stay for long.”

“Want to hang out in the kitchen while I make sandwiches?”

“Sure.” Kevin followed Sam. “I’m here to ask a favor,” he said, “although you may end up thanking me for it.”

Sam took a frying pan from the cabinet, heated it on the stove, and drizzled some olive oil into it. Having long ago realized that Holly wasn’t going to thrive on a bachelor’s diet of pizza and beer, Sam had learned to cook. Although he still had plenty to learn, he’d reached a level of basic competence that had so far kept them all from starving.

While Sam poured the tomato soup into a microwavable dish, he asked, “So what’s the favor?”

“A couple of months ago, I broke up with my girlfriend. And it’s turned out to be a little more complicated than I expected.”

“She stalking you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. In fact, she hardly goes out at all.”

The cheese sandwiches sizzled gently as Sam lowered them into the hot pan. “That’s normal after a breakup.”

“Yes. But she needs to get on with her life. I was trying to think of someone for her to meet—someone she could have some fun with. And from what I’ve heard, you’re not going out with anyone right now … are you?”

Sam’s eyes widened incredulously as he realized what Kevin was getting at. And then he began to laugh. “I’m not interested in your leftovers. And I’m sure as hell not going to be thanking you for them.”

“It’s not like that,” Kevin protested. “She’s great. She’s hot. Well … not hot, actually, but pretty. And sweet. Supersweet.”

“If she’s so great, why’d you break up with her?”

“Well, I sort of have a thing going with her younger sister.”

Sam just looked at him.