An Unfinished Story(53)

“I’ve been doing some research myself. Read everything I can get my hands on. And I’ve connected with a few people involved with the system here, so I’m getting a better feel for what this world is like. I’ve also reached out to the lead agency for child welfare in Sarasota, who is contracted by the state to run the foster system down there. They manage the case managers, track the kids, all that. If they’ll talk to me, it will bring a much more truthful feel to the story.”

“Look at you, Sherlock. I’m actually impressed.”

“Well, I was in journalism before I tried my hand at a novel.”

Claire folded her slice. “I guess I knew that. It’s just that sometimes I underestimate you.”

With a mouthful, Whitaker said, “That’s very easy to do.”

“You went to Emory, right?” As he nodded, she asked, “An English major?”

Another nod, still chewing. With crumbs spilling out, he said, “A triple major in French, Spanish, and English.”

“Impressive! How about grad school?” She finally dug in, noticing how perfect the sauce was, not too rich with a nice zing.

With a final swallow, he answered, “A one-way ticket to Europe was my grad school. I sold just enough of my work to newspapers and magazines to keep me afloat.”

“What kind of stuff were you writing?”

“It was mostly travel pieces. I wrote for my high school and college newspapers and built my portfolio from there. Back then, it was so much easier to make money freelancing. So mostly travel, but they’d accept almost anything I proposed.”

“And Napalm Trees was your first dive into fiction?”

“No, I wrote a collection of short stories in college.”

“Why don’t you publish it?”

“It was absolute trash. And long gone by now.”

She wiped pizza sauce from her lip. “We really do need to talk about this dog poop thing, the investigation. It’s not normal. You know that, right? You’re staking out your neighbors.”

“It’s my civil doody.”

Claire rolled her eyes. He didn’t know how to stop with the humor. “I wonder what your alma mater would say about you now.”

“Perhaps revoke my degree. But they kind of like me over there in the English department. I’m somewhat of their darling.”

“If they only knew . . . So what will you do when you catch the offender? A citizen’s arrest?”

He shook red pepper flakes onto his next slice. “I was thinking about that the other day. I really don’t know. Maybe I can give him the evil eye, and that will be enough.” He showed her his best evil eye, which was more adorable than threatening.

“Oh, that will put the fear of God in him.”

“Can I just say something?” Whitaker asked. “Enough about me. You’ve really come alive in the past few days. I don’t mean it to sound like I’m hitting on you, but you’re so much more beautiful when you’re happy. And so fun to be around.”

“I feel happier,” she admitted, welcoming the compliment. “Thank you. And you look pretty good yourself.”

“Thanks for noticing. Turns out all I had to do was run a few miles in the mornings and stop eating like a goat. But anyway, it’s nice having you around.”

Claire blushed. “You too.”

“Not to mention, you’re the only one who thinks I’m funny these days.”

“Or I’m really good at faking it.”

Whitaker raised his hand. “Medic, please. Someone just stabbed me in the heart.”

Claire laughed, and there was nothing fake about it.

After cleaning up, they moved their conversation to the living room. “I woke up in the middle of the night,” Whitaker said, resting his feet on the coffee table, “and for a minute I thought I was him. I was in a group home, waking up in a bunk bed. It breaks my heart thinking of all the kids out there who grow up without parents.” He shook his head. “To think I’ve spent so long in a mental gutter while children like Orlando are out there fighting real battles. I need to get over myself sometimes.”

Sitting on the other side of the couch, Claire let his thoughts settle in the air. “I can’t wait to read what you’re writing. I can tell you’re changing. For the better, I mean. Just don’t do what David did and keep it all from me. You have to share some of it. At least a few teasers here and there.”

“Soon enough,” Whitaker said. “I’ll share soon enough.”

“I will sneak into your house in the middle of the night if I have to.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Though she couldn’t deny feeling guilty, it felt nice to be hit on, to be wanted. Whitaker was attempting to hide his feelings for her less and less. “I don’t know,” she said. “Is that a flirt or a blunder?”

Whitaker showed all his teeth. “I’d say a blunder of a flirt.”

Their eyes locked, and Claire could see that he was waiting for her to say something, to take a step forward.

Instead, she looked away.





Chapter 21

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

After three weeks of writing David’s novel, Whitaker made the final decision to quit his job. He didn’t tell anyone but Claire the news. He still had royalty checks from Napalm Trees coming in and a few last stocks he could sell; plus Claire had given him 20 percent of her promised offer. It wasn’t possible to continue trying to help people invest when all Whitaker cared about was the written word.