Sleeping With Ghosts. Lynne Pemberton

it’s his seventeenth birthday in two weeks.’

      Adam looked exasperated. ‘Give me a break, Joanne, I do know my only son’s birthday.’

      ‘OK, OK.’ She raised her hand as if to ward off a blow. She was tempted to remind him, that she had reminded him of all of his family occasions for the last ten years. ‘Keep your shirt on, Mr Krantz. You know me, just being efficient.’

      His tone softened. ‘I’m picking him up at four this afternoon. I’ve decided to drive myself, so I plan on leaving here around two.’

      Joanne appeared in the doorway. ‘No problem, it’s pretty quiet here on Friday afternoons usually; anyway, there isn’t much ever happens around this place that I can’t take care of.’

      Adam raised both hands. ‘What on earth would I do without you?’

      ‘Well, don’t forget I told you I need a vacation. I haven’t been away for a couple of years, and these old bones could do with a dose of sun.’

      Adam was dismissive. ‘Did nobody ever tell you too much sun is bad for the skin?’

      ‘It’s worse than not enough, and I haven’t had any.’ She planted both hands on her wide hips, and fixed what she hoped was an appealing smile on her mobile face. ‘A week in Maui, David got us a deal.’

      Adam looked up and she sensed his irritation. Her instinct was confirmed by his next announcement.

      ‘Maui sucks, ask anyone. Unfriendly natives trying to rip off unsuspecting American tourists. Anyway, it’s the rainy season, there’s no sun, you and David are better off staying in New York.’

      Joanne pulled a long face and in a plaintive voice said, ‘But I’ve always wanted to go to Maui. It’s a great deal, eighteen hundred dollars all inclusive.’

      Adam leaned back in his chair. ‘David got it cheap ’cause it’s the wrong time of year. Like I said, go in the winter.’ His tone was dismissive.

      Undeterred, Joanne persisted. ‘Come on, Adam, give me a break; hell, I’m whacked and I need a vacation. If I don’t get one, you’re not going to get the hundred and fifty per cent input I give to this business.’

      ‘When?’ Adam asked.

      ‘Next week?’ Her eyebrows rose, accompanied by a pleading expression that filled Adam with guilt. He knew he was lucky to have Joanne. She had majored in Art History, and had worked as a restorer for six years. She had a catalogue in her head of every art collector and artist from Albani to Zoffany, and could spot a forgery a mile away, but more important she tolerated his unpredictable personality with consummate patience. In truth she was his right hand and he would be lost without her. He made a mental note to book a vacation in Maui for Joanne and her husband, just as soon as this thing in the West Indies was over.

      Adam rubbed his hand across his face and sighed. ‘You’re right, Joanne, you do need a vacation. You and me both, but I think I’ve got to go away next week. On business,’ he added quickly. ‘I’m not sure yet, so can we talk about it later?’ He looked and sounded genuinely sorry.

      The smile slipped from Joanne’s face, her tone changing to one of resignation. ‘OK, you’re the boss; but I’ve got to let David know before the end of the week, or he’ll divorce me.’

      ‘He’d be mad to do that.’ Adam was smiling warmly.

      ‘Yeah, right. But you know men, never appreciate what they got, till they don’t have it no more.’

      ‘Point taken, Jo. I promise to let you know just as soon as I know. Now can we get some work done around here. First and foremost, call Lynda Hamilton and get me out of that party. Tell her I’ve got to go to—’

      ‘Maui?’ Joanne offered. Then before he could reply, she added, ‘Don’t you think you should consider the sale of the Degas, Adam? One little-bitty party ain’t going to kill you, sometimes in life we all have to make a few small sacrifices.’

      ‘Sacrifices for what?’ Only half listening, he racked his fingers through his shoulder-length hair whilst thinking about that trim he kept promising himself.

      ‘Money, you know, like sixty-five thousand dollars’ worth of sacrifice, the profit from which pays my wages for—?’

      ‘A month,’ he finished for her.

      ‘I wish,’ she said, raising bushy black eyebrows that met at the ridge of her nose. Adam had often wondered why she didn’t pluck them but had always been too polite to ask.

      ‘Joanne, believe me when I say no amount of money would induce me.’ He sighed heavily, running the back of his hand across the dark stubble on his jaw, remembering that he had forgotten to shave that morning. ‘Come on, you know as well as I do that it’s not just the party. Lynda’s bony ass could be studded with twenty-carat diamonds and she could want to buy an entire collection of Impressionists … but I absolutely refuse to get laid by her.’

      There had been a multiple pile-up on Route 87, and traffic was at a standstill. Adam, stuck on the George Washington Bridge, looked at his watch and cursed. The drive upstate to Albany took at least two hours on a clear road.

      He arrived at his son’s school after five, over an hour late. Sprinting up the wide stone steps leading to the entrance to Highclare Academy, he could see the back of Calvin’s head framed in the open window, his dark crown shining like polished jet.

      Calvin turned when his father entered the hall.

      ‘Sorry I’m late, Cal, but there was a hold-up on the New York Interstate. It was chaotic.’

      There was no welcoming smile for Adam, nor did his son move towards him when he said, ‘It’s OK, Dad. I’m used to it, you’re always late.’

      ‘Always! Come on, that’s not fair.’

      Calvin looped a lock of wayward hair behind his left ear. His sapphire blue eyes, almost exactly the same shade as his mother’s, challenged Adam, reminding him of Jennifer when she was angry. ‘OK, I’ll give you sometimes.’

      Adam stepped forward to touch his son’s arm, changed his mind and cuffed him playfully around the chin instead. Pulling a ridiculously long face, he said, ‘No smile for your old pop?’

      Calvin started to grin, his bad temper melting like butter in the sun. He could never stay annoyed with his father for long.

      Gently Adam hugged Calvin towards him. ‘It’s great to see you, Cal; how have you been?’ He ruffled his son’s long hair.

      ‘It’s great to see you, Dad; I’ve missed you.’ It felt good to hold his father close. Calvin wanted to savour the moment, enjoying the slight prickle of Adam’s stubble and the faintly acid smell of lime, and something else he didn’t recognize.

      After a few seconds Adam relaxed his embrace then, holding Calvin at arm’s length, he looked him up and down in appreciation. ‘Wow! You’ve grown in the last month, nearly as tall as me. And man, what a great tan! You look like you spent the last few weeks at the beach.’

      ‘I wish,’ Calvin grinned. ‘Misspent time playing ball.’

      ‘Oh, yeah, how’s it going? Sorry I missed the last match, I was in Europe. Your mom said you were great, and that you made captain.’ Adam patted his son on the back, he was beaming with pride. ‘Congratulations, Cal; you put your dad to shame, I can barely hit the ball.’

      Warmed by his father’s approval, the sullen expression Calvin had worn earlier was replaced by a radiant smile.

      Adam wrapped an arm around Calvin’s shoulder. ‘Come on then, son; let’s hit the road.’

      Arm in arm they walked to the car. Calvin peered inside. ‘No driver today, Dad?’ he asked, opening the passenger door.

      ‘Nope, I felt like being alone, lots of stuff on my mind. It seemed like