An Unfinished Story(83)

Whitaker pulled the top off the dutch oven, and a blast of steam and savory aromas rose into the air. “I thought we’d go French tonight. Coq au vin. Then cheese and a salad to finish off.”

Sadie spun her glass. “I’m surprised you still knew how to turn on the stove.”

“Well,” Whitaker said, “I did learn cooking is not like riding a bike. It took me a little while to get back into the swing of things. Nearly cut my finger off earlier.” He showed them a Band-Aid wrapped around his index finger.

“Well, I’d say you’re off to a good start,” Jack said, glancing at the cheese and charcuterie board Whitaker had prepared.

“Thanks. So before we eat, I thought we could sit out back and chat for a while. Claire and I have so much we can’t wait to share.”

Leading them outside, Whitaker looked past the small patio with his new furniture to the short green grass and then the fresh mulch running up against the fence. Feeling a nice breeze, he eyed the clouds rolling in from the east. A perfect night to sit outside, as long as those clouds didn’t bring rain.

Descending the back steps, Claire asked, “Where are all the wild things? Did a landscaper come over?”

“It was all me, believe it or not.”

“But where will the grasshoppers go?”

“They’re welcome to stay if they’d like.”

The breeze picked up.

“I’m really impressed,” Claire admitted. “Actually, I’m surprised you even know how to start a lawn mower.” Whitaker could tell she was putting on a show, trying to light Jack up.

It worked. If Jack hadn’t been convinced by her yet, she’d surely won him over now. He grunted with joy. “Believe it or not, Claire, this young man used to help me keep the finest yard in the neighborhood. We were like a platoon of the army’s finest out there every weekend.”

Whitaker shook his head as they sat around the table and umbrella. Why resist? “I don’t know what happened to me. Books pulled me away from small engines and landscaping. But fear not. I have returned and am quite eager to spend my Saturdays like most humans in America. My forties will be the decade I fell in love with yard work.”

Ready to move on, Whitaker turned to his left. “You might know Claire’s restaurant, Leo’s South, at the beach?”

“Oh, sure,” Jack said. “Now I like you even more. I’ve eaten there a few times over the years.”

After a few minutes of restaurant talk, Claire said, “And Jack, I hear you’re a fisherman.”

“Yep, as a matter of fact, I took some clients out today.”

“How’d you do?”

“We slayed ’em. A big grouper and five red snappers. The season just started, thank goodness. It would have hurt to throw them back.”

“You should have brought some over, Dad.”

Jack turned to Whitaker. “Last time I brought you fish, you let them rot in your fridge.”

Whitaker raised his hands up in peace. “Fair point.”

Jack turned back to Claire. “If you eat fish, I’d love to share some with you. Red snapper is about my favorite.”

As Claire assured him she would love some, Whitaker looked at his mother and grinned. What else could you do when you were dealing with Jack Grant?

They focused on Claire for a while and eventually reached the topic of the book. Whitaker grabbed another bottle of chardonnay and they told the entire story, starting from Claire’s knock on his door.

What struck Whitaker most about that night was the question Jack asked once the story had been told. Each word did what many of Jack’s did, Thor’s hammer dropping down. But this time they were words of encouragement.

As Jack and Sadie were still trying to wrap their heads around the story and the fact that Oliver was a real boy, Jack leaned in, bouncing his eyes back and forth between Whitaker and Claire. “What can we do to help you find him?”

Whitaker had never loved his father more.





Chapter 33

THE SKYLINE OF HAVANA

Claire had been sure that she was the worst to dance salsa in the history of the Gulfport Casino, but as she watched Whitaker attempt to follow the instructor, she knew otherwise. Whitaker had no rhythm and so little control of his feet, she wondered how he even managed to walk.

But you know what? It didn’t matter. She’d never laughed so much in her life, and she liked that he could handle the ridicule. Even Didi was having a hard time concentrating and had one eye on Whitaker’s penguin feet fumbling about.

Now into the second week of June, it had been two weeks since Claire and Whitaker’s first date, and they’d spent nearly every day together. Claire couldn’t believe it, but she was falling in love. Not falling . . . she was right into the depths of it, at the bottom of the canyon of love after a long descent, as Whitaker might say. He was an explosion of color that she welcomed and couldn’t do without. As she watched him dance like a fool and laugh like a child, she knew that he had come into her life for a much bigger reason than finishing David’s novel. And she’d learned that behind all his fun and games stood a man of substance. Whitaker would never replace David, but Claire was intent on loving Whitaker in a new and different way.

Three days before, per Laura’s suggestion, they had agreed to fingerprinting and background checks. Considering they’d had no luck working the social media angle, the woman’s request felt like a great break in the search. When Whitaker had asked Laura if she was making progress, she said, “I can’t make any promises right now.”