Second Shot

“Uh-huh,” Simone said, ominous. “And I also don’t suppose it occurred to you that I might have wanted to see that guy again. That he just might have been interested enough in me to have given me his phone number and I just might have given him a call…?”

“You did what?” I said, and even though I spoke hardly louder than a whisper I heard the cold anger and the disbelief in my own voice. “No,” I said blankly “You couldn’t have been so stupid.”

Simone flushed fully then and opened her mouth to snap back at me when I suddenly realized by the shift in Ella’s gaze that someone was approaching us across the lobby’s polished floor.

The gray-haired man who’d been talking to the concierge stopped a few meters away and looked uncertainly from one of us to the other. He was in his late fifties, the neatly trimmed beard giving him a distinguished air. He wore a good coat and expensive shoes. His eyes were darting from one of us to the other, as though waiting for his opportunity to break in without getting clawed.

“Pardon me,” he said politely to Simone, “but you are Simone, er, Kerse, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Simone said immediately, shooting me a defiant glare. “Yes, I am!”

‘Ah,” the man said. He smiled, a little uncertain at the vehemence of her response. “Well, in that case … I understand you’ve been looking for me. I believe I’m your father.”

Eight

You OK back there, Charlie?” Greg Lucas asked. “Comfortable? Warm enough? Shout out if Ella needs to stop to go to the bathroom or anything.”

“We’re fine at the moment, thanks,” I said. It took an effort to keep my voice pleasant. I didn’t think Lucas was being deliberately patronizing, but Simone had presented me more as the hired help than anything else and, so far, I hadn’t found a reason other than pride to contradict the opinion he’d formed. Now, his eyes flicked to meet mine in the rearview mirror and I saw the crow’s-feet at the sides of them crinkle as he smiled at me. I couldn’t see the rest of his face but so far he’d behaved without apparent guile, however hard I’d looked for signs of treachery.

We were in a new-model Range Rover Vogue SE, barreling north out of Massachusetts and into New Hampshire on Interstate 95. Simone up front with Lucas, and me and Ella in the rear seats. Our luggage — including the giant bear with the scowl-was piled up behind us.

It was the day after Greg Lucas had introduced himself to Simone in the lobby of the Boston Harbor Hotel, and, to my mind at least, it was much too soon to be going anywhere with him. Convincing Simone of that, however, had caused major ructions.

From the outset, she hadn’t liked the fact that I’d headed her off from inviting Lucas up to the suite to talk but had instead suggested more neutral territory in the restaurant. He’d momentarily looked a little surprised at my cool reception, but had agreed equably enough. We’d left him to secure us a table in the Intrigue Cafe while I took Simone back upstairs, ostensibly to drop off our coats and change Ella out of her boots, but mainly so I could get her on her own long enough to advise caution.

Not exactly what Simone wanted to hear.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Charlie!” she snapped, and there was a glitter in her eye I didn’t quite like. She was almost feverish with a kind of scared excitement. “Why would he pretend to be my father if he isn’t?”

I could think of over 13,400,000 good reasons, but didn’t voice them. Maybe Simone had realized that as she’d spoken, because she sighed without waiting for an answer and said, “OK, I’ll be careful, but you don’t know how long I’ve waited and wished for this.”

“I know,” I said, gently, “but that’s exactly why you shouldn’t rush into anything now It’s been twenty-five years since you last saw him. You admitted yourself that you couldn’t remember much about him, and he wouldn’t have had that beard while he was in the army. So, he must expect that you’re going to ask questions, that you’re going to be suspicious. Anybody would be. And that’s quite apart from telling him about your win. I certainly would not mention anything about that for a while-at least until you’re sure.”

She was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“OK, Charlie,” she said, more subdued now but with a stubborn set to her jaw. “But he doesn’t exactly look as though he’s living out of soup kitchens, does he? And this is what we’re here for, isn’t it? So I could find and meet with him? And now I have found him-or might have,” she allowed when I opened my mouth to interrupt. “Look, either I get to know him a little and find out for sure, or we may as well go home now.”

I shrugged. “OK, Simone,” I said. “Just be careful, all right?”

She smiled, too fast, too bright. “I am being careful,” she said. “I have you with me, don’t I?”