Somebody to Love(101)

“Has he started yet?” Harry asked.

“Started what?”

“His job.”

She felt her stomach tighten as if against a blow. “His job?”

“Yeah. Mitch Stravitz, remember him? At Goldman? No? Well, he’s been to the house a number of times. Came for that wine tasting where we went through the case of the ’82 Margaux.” Harry smiled in fond remembrance. “Anyway, he was happy to do me a favor. This whole insider-trading charge was completely blown out of proportion. Once I’m back, it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Sort of like the Mafia. Everyone does their stint in the joint.” Harry laughed his client laugh, that low, insincere Hollywood laugh.

Parker was finding it hard to draw a deep breath. “Hang on, Harry. James is working at Goldman Sachs? In New York?”

“In the legal department. Yes.”

“Do you know when he starts?”

“Next week, so far as I know.” Harry frowned at her. “He didn’t mention it, I gather?”

“No,” Parker said calmly. “It didn’t come up.”

“Huh. He got an apartment and everything. I figured he’d have told you. Is he still in Maine?”

“Yep. Still in Maine. For now.” She forced herself to smile. “How’s the food here?”

* * *

THE DRIVE BACK to Gideon’s Cove was much longer than the drive down had been. Or so it seemed.

So while Parker had been talking about a long-term monogamous relationship with a possible baby in the future, James had been planning to trot down to Manhattan. He had a job waiting for him. He had an apartment. On the one hand, he said he loved her. On the other, he was moving. And he’d never said a word. Maybe that’s what tonight’s talk was about.

She could see the future spreading bleakly in front of her. She’d get a job, share Nicky with Ethan and Lucy. James would come up a weekend or two, but he’d be busy. Time together would be harder to manage. In the end, he’d feel guilty and burdened, and she’d feel bitter and resentful.

“I’m an idiot,” she said aloud.

It’s just that last night, out on the dock…it had seemed so… Oh, crikey, how many women read into these things? How many men said what a woman wanted to hear, simply to make the moment easier?

Well. She and James were going to have that talk when she got home, that was for sure. She checked her phone. No new messages. Just as well. This was a talk to have in person, and besides, she was entering the area where cell-phone service started to cut out.

The Holy Rollers were silent. Polly patted her shoulder, but no one had anything to offer.

When she finally came into Gideon’s Cove, the town seemed oddly vacant. No one was in front of Dewey’s, and almost no cars lined Main Street. The sun was sinking into the sea, one last ray cutting right into her eyes as she drove past the fisheries parking lot and onto Shoreline Drive

Then she saw the lights.

Fire trucks, the ambulance, a dozen pickup trucks and cars, in front of…in front of…in front of her house.

Malone saw her coming, opened the door for her before she’d come to a complete stop. She got out, but her legs buckled, and he caught her. “Nicky,” she managed to say.

“He’s missing,” Malone said in his rumbling voice. “Whole town’s looking for him.”

* * *

SHE COULD SEE EVERYTHING, but nothing had any impact. The fire chief had sad eyes. Maggie was holding her hand so hard it hurt. Lavinia choked on sobs, sitting on the runner of a fire truck. Rolly, Ben and Stuart stood to one side, saying nothing. James was wet. Jonah Beaumont pulled on his scuba gear, his face white. Collier Rhodes was on his phone.

Parker could hear herself answering questions, but she felt so deep inside herself that it was like looking out from the bottom of a deep, dark mine shaft. She was feeling for her son—feeling for him, reaching for him. Where are you, sweet boy, come to Mommy—

“A blue T-shirt with a dinosaur skeleton on the front. It glows in the dark. Brown shorts,” she said in answer to a question. Please, God. Please. Please. Anything but this.

Her son had been gone for two hours. Two hours, and she hadn’t even known. They’d tried calling her, but the damn cell-phone service sucked up here in this miserable, godforsaken county.

The dive team was in the water.

The dive team was in the water.

Please, God, don’t let him be in there, but the images were too clear, his little body being pulled up, limp and white, a tiny casket, Ethan devastated, their beautiful boy, gone. Parker choked, started to gasp, her breath yanking in and out of her chest. Maggie hugged her, hard. “Easy, Parker, easy,” she whispered.

That’s right. She didn’t have the luxury of her own feelings. Her son needed her. She would not fall apart now.

“Give me a minute,” she said, her gaze glancing off James, who looked decades older. She put her hands over her ears, muffling the sounds of radio and talking. Closing her eyes, she thought.

“Where’s the nail gun?” she asked. The chief glanced at someone else, a look that clearly said, She’s losing it. “Is the nail gun around?”

James bolted into the darkness. A second later, he was back. “It’s not in my truck. That’s where I left it.”

“Okay, so he took it. The nail gun is with Nicky, so he probably went off to make something.” He could’ve gone down to the dock to drive nails. He could’ve fallen in. “Has anyone talked to Ethan? Maybe Nicky called him?”