The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(92)

“What is it?” Jacob asked.

“It’s a fund-raiser. Save the farmland.” Except Tom rather hated the farmland after yesterday. Or maybe just the evil little pond.

“Sounds horrible,” Jacob said. “Got some plans of my own. Hoping to bang that babe who sits next to me in your class.”

“You probably shouldn’t tell me that, even if you are both legal adults,” Tom said. “Be a gentleman, use protection and all.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Jacob grinned. “And thanks for letting me help out, Dr. B.” The kid shook his hand, then trotted out to his car.

Yes. It would be incredible if he could get one-tenth of the friendliness from Charlie that Jacob showed so effortlessly. Only at the self-defense class did Charlie seem to tolerate him, and only, perhaps, because Abby was around.

He should be used to it by now. Those ten months of having Charlie feel like his son were a long time ago.

On his way home, he stopped at a florist and, feeling a bit idiotic, asked for a corsage. “A corsage? How old is your date?” the florist asked, frowning.

“Thirty-five,” he said.

“How about a wristlet instead?”

“What’s that?”

“Goes around your wrist. Most women don’t want to pin something on their dresses.”

“All right. Whatever you say.”

“What color is her dress?”

“I don’t know. Black or white, I’m guessing.”

“Are you British?” she asked, eyeing him.

“I am, yes,” he said. “And engaged.”

“Had to give it a shot,” she answered with a smile. “Okay. Give me ten minutes.”

While he was waiting, Tom’s phone rang, a rare occurrence. Perhaps Honor needed him to stop and get something.

It was Janice Kellogg. “Tom,” she sighed, “Walter and I need a break. Charlie has been up my ass lately.” Lovely, especially coming from his grandmother. “Is there any chance you can come and get him? If I have to spend another second with him, I’m going to need a drink.” There was a rattle of ice cubes. Why wait?

“Sure, Janice. I can get him.”

“Oh, wait. You have plans, I bet. The Hollands are having their fancy party.” Her voice oozed the sticky tones of martyrdom. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

“No, Janice, I’d love to come around and pick him up. He can come with us.”

Another rattle. “Well, Tom, I won’t lie. That would be great. It’s just endless, you know what I mean? Same old shitty attitude.”

There was a hint of Melissa in that voice, those words. “I’d love to have him.”

“Great. Bring him back around eleven tonight, okay? He has to go to church tomorrow. You know how important church is to us.”

Yes. The better to revel in martyrdom. Janice and Walter Kellogg, doing their Christian duty and raising their no-good grandson. “Eleven, it is. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

When Tom arrived, Charlie got into the car wordlessly, ignoring Tom in his customary manner. “Glad to see you, mate,” Tom said into the void. “We’ve got an event tonight. Hope you don’t mind.”

Nothing.

“It’s a ball. We can both suffer.”

And still nothing.

“Charlie, is everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Charlie grunted.

Tom looked at him closely. “Are you being bullied?”

“No.”

“If you are, you can come to me, you know.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes,” Tom said, his voice maybe a little too forceful. “Yes, you can. And you know things now. You can protect yourself.”

“It’s not like that!” Charlie said. “It’s different.”

“How? Tell me, mate.”

Charlie just rolled his eyes.

They pulled up to the house, Charlie getting out before the car had come to a complete stop. “Careful,” Tom said to his back, then rubbed his forehead, hard. If anything happened to that boy, it would kill him. And why he wouldn’t tell Tom...ah, damn it all to hell.

He picked up the plastic box from the florist and followed the boy in.

Honor was there, wrapped in a bathrobe. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” The scrape on her right hand was still visible.

“I’m fine.” Her tone was careful. “So Charlie’s here.”

“Yeah, Janice called me and asked if he could spend some time with us. I thought he could come to the ball, if that’s all right.”

She nodded. “Sure.”

“If you’d rather not, we can stay here.”

“I’d love for you both to come. That’s great, in fact.” Her gaze dropped to the box in his hands.

“Right,” he said. “For you.”

Her expression softened as she looked at it.

She was lovely. She had no idea, did she? Granted, he hadn’t exactly been struck with lightning the first time he’d seen her (well, the second; the first time, she’d been quite impressive with that right hook). But hers were the type of looks that grew on a person. She had lovely skin and dimples when she smiled, which wasn’t often enough, and her brown eyes were dark and kind.