Somebody to Love(93)

“Mommy!” the kid bellowed. “Mr. Cahill said I can use his gun!”

“I did not say that.”

“James,” Parker said, appearing at the top of the hill, sweaty and beautiful, a red bandanna around her blond hair, “he can’t use the nail gun.”

“I know, and I didn’t tell him he could.”

Nicky scowled at James and flung a little dirt down the stairs.

“Come on, Nick, leave Mr. Cahill alone. Why don’t you fill up Beauty’s water dish, huh? Make sure it’s nice and cold.”

The kid trotted off obediently.

“You better have a talk with him about going in the water,” James said, turning his attention back to the ancient, splintering staircase. “He tells me he’s a great swimmer.”

“He is, and he already knows.”

“Maybe you should get one of those leashes they have. Make sure he doesn’t decide to jump off the dock, like his mother.”

“I’m not going to leash my child, James.” Her voice was sharp. “He won’t go swimming without me. He grew up at Grayhurst. He knows the rules.”

“So did my sister.”

Parker looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said in a gentler tone. “I’ll talk to him again. But please don’t tell me to use a leash on my son. He’s a good boy.”

James nodded, tore up another chunk of wood. “So how are Mr. and Mrs. Paragon?”

“Are you jealous? Is that what this is?”

“Hey. I’m just the help.”

“You’re not the— You know what? I think I’ll strangle you. With a leash. How would that be?”

“I’d die happy, so long as I was in your golden presence.” He smiled at her, perversely happy to see her irritation.

She rolled her eyes and turned to go.

“Parker.”

She stopped.

“I’m sorry. I just—” Your kid is giving me chest pains. “Your kid doesn’t like me.”

Her face softened. “Sure he does. He likes everyone. Nicky! Come here, honey!”

“Shit,” James muttered. The kid cantered over.

“Do I get to use the nail gun?” he asked, chewing on the ear of a stuffed animal.

That stuffed animal…

“No, you don’t get to use the nail gun. Mr. Cahill might stay for lunch. We can have a picnic on the dock and maybe go swimming after that. How would that be?”

“Could I use the nail gun then?” Nicky asked.

James was only half listening. The stuffed animal was familiar. “I like your rabbit,” he said.

Nicky spit out the ear. “His name is Elephant. ’Cuz he has big ears.”

“I see.”

James looked at Parker, who suddenly felt the need to look out to sea. “I think I gave you that rabbit. When you were born,” he said.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m pretty sure I did.”

“No. Someone else gave it to me.”

“Mr. Cahill’s right, Nicky,” Parker said. “He brought you that in the hospital.”

So she remembered.

“You brought me Elephant?” Nicky repeated.

“Yep.”

“Can I use your nail gun, then?”

Parker laughed, but Nicky was serious. “Sorry, pal,” James said.

“Come on, Nicky. Let’s finish the flowers.” Parker turned and walked back toward the house.

“I don’t like you,” Nicky said.

“Sorry to hear that,” James answered. It was more mature, he was almost sure, than saying, I’m not sure I like you, either.

* * *

“HOW’S THAT, MRS. K.?” James asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. Maggie Beaumont’s ancient tenant was a tyrant; this was the fourth time James had rearranged her bulky living room furniture in three days.

“It’s wonderful, honey!” she chirped. “I’m finally getting the hang of feng shui!”

Or James was, as the muscle of the operation. “Great,” he said. “Can I do anything else for you?”

“No, you’ve been an angel! It’s true! Besides, I’m having dinner with Maggie and that nice husband of hers tonight. Do you know him? Mahoney?”

“Malone. I was at their wedding, remember?”

“Of course I do, dear. You’re quite a good dancer. Malone, you’re right, that’s his name. For some reason, I can never remember!”

James smiled. Mrs. K. was a sweetheart, even if she was a despot. And a spy. Still, it was kind of nice to have someone caring when he came and went.

He went upstairs to the tiny apartment, got a beer from the fridge and sat on the floor. The only furniture left was a bed, a little kitchen table and two chairs. But he’d be leaving soon, so it didn’t really matter.

The kid had been here for five days. Parker’s stairs were nearly finished. And that was a problem, because James was running out of things to do.

He’d gone to see Mary Elizabeth yesterday and sat through The Holy Rollers in 3-D! for the second time, which definitely registered him for sainthood. Had a near miss with his father, but luckily, he’d caught a glimpse of his father’s battered truck from Mary Elizabeth’s window and said his goodbyes before dear old Dad had appeared.