Man Of The Family. Leigh Riker

girl, one too-handsome-for-his-own-good man, his dark hair glossy, those amazing hazel eyes looking grim. Then reality returned. So much for her hope he wouldn’t come today.

      Griffin nodded. “Counselor,” he said but didn’t stop. Carrying a ceramic bowl sealed with plastic wrap, he aimed for the kitchen. Apparently he hadn’t forgotten their latest encounter in this very hallway.

      That left Sunny to face Amanda. Or so she thought.

      Without even a simple hello, her head down, Griffin’s daughter rushed past her toward Sunny’s mom, who was putting the finishing touches on a green salad at the kitchen island. Amanda flung herself into her arms.

      “There’s my girl,” Sunny’s mother said with a wide smile. Like Sunny, or rather vice versa, she was a hugger, and for long moments the two chattered away as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. Hearing the girl laugh told Sunny theirs was a good, and probably necessary, relationship right now.

      In order to maintain the peace, Sunny reversed course. Surely no one would miss her for a while, and she could collect herself in the den. Her parents’ cookout was no place to tangle with Griffin.

      Sunny wasn’t in the best mood anyway. She’d spent half the morning on the phone to New York again, making nice with Judge Ramsay. The contempt citation had to be dealt with, too, and now her credit card had a bigger balance due.

      She was checking the transaction online when someone rapped at her door.

      “Come in,” Sunny called, thinking her mother needed her in the kitchen. Her dad made a big thing of grilling hamburgers and hot dogs and cooking his famous barbecued ribs, but Mom would provide the rest of the meal for more than twenty people. That meant at least a half dozen side dishes to prepare. And too many mouth-watering desserts.

      Instead, Amanda peered around the half-open door.

      “May I come in?” She sounded like someone headed to the guillotine. “My father says I have to talk to you.”

      Sunny nearly fell off her dad’s desk chair. Well, what do you know? Maybe her message had registered, after all.

      “Sure. Have a seat,” she said, indicating the nearby sofa bed that had become her personal torture rack.

      Amanda remained standing. “This won’t take long,” she said. Arms crossed, she glanced at Sunny’s wrist, her mouth turned down at the corners. “I did take your watch. I’m sorry.”

      Her tone said otherwise. “Are you really?” Sunny asked.

      The judge had asked her the same question earlier. And, no, Sunny wasn’t sorry for her rant about Wallace Day’s unfair punishment.

      Amanda almost smiled. “Not that sorry,” she admitted.

      “Okay.” Sunny stood up and folded her arms in a mirror image of Amanda’s posture. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Why don’t you tell me why you took my watch? It’s not as if you tried to hide it afterward. I saw it on you at school, and so did your friend.”

      “It’s a stupid watch. I didn’t even like it.”

      “You’re entitled to your opinion. To me, it’s a fun piece of jewelry. It reminds me that I don’t always have to take life so seriously. There’s the buttoned-down suit I have to wear for work, and then there’s my little rebellion.” She paused. “What’s yours, Amanda?”

      A shrug was her only answer, but her gaze shifted away from Sunny.

      “You must have known you’d get caught,” she said softly. “You even laid this watch on a bureau where your father would see it.”

      Another shrug. A tiny tremor of her mouth.

      From the yard Sunny heard the clang of horseshoes hitting a post. Her dad’s laughter and then little Josh’s giggles rang out. Her parents’ friends and neighbors were talking, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Except Amanda, of course.

      “In my years as a prosecutor, I’ve often been called upon to feel out a witness, and, many times, it’s been a girl like you.” She hesitated. “I was once a teenager myself,” she said. “I’ve become a good listener.”

      Amanda gazed out the window toward where everyone else was having fun. Her glance, her every motion, told Sunny how unhappy she was. She had to fight the urge to pull Amanda into her arms, as she would have Ana Ramirez, saving her from Wallace Day. Saving the girl Sunny used to be.

      She tried once more. “Do you have something against me, Amanda?”

      Griffin’s daughter looked startled, as if that had never occurred to her.

      “No,” she finally said in a sullen tone. Eyes still on the window.

      “Then taking my watch just seemed like a good idea at the time?” Sunny’s tone was wry. “A matter of poor impulse control?”

      “I guess.” At last, she looked away from the window. “Can I go now?”

      Sunny wanted to say no. There was more here, hidden beneath the surface, but she wasn’t prepared to interrogate the girl. Amanda was Griffin’s responsibility. At least he’d made her admit to the theft. And she didn’t seem to resent Sunny personally. Maybe she had a grudge against Career Day.

      “You may go,” she said. “I appreciate the apology.”

      Amanda made a scoffing sound. “Don’t think it means anything.”

      The door closed behind her while Sunny was still pondering the words.

      * * *

      GRIFFIN TOOK HIS TIME. He helped Josh play another game of horseshoes. He hung around the cooler with the Cabots’ friends and neighbors and even enjoyed the sense of camaraderie with new people who had no idea of his life before, or even now. He took his turn at the grill, searing hot dogs and seasoning burgers and slathering ribs with more sauce. Slowly, he could feel himself begin to unwind.

      He’d needed this. Since the move from Boston he hadn’t had much opportunity to socialize except chatting now and then with the residents. With the kids to consider, he’d had little spare time. The sum total of his circle outside of work had been Bron and Chris. Now, sharing laughter and corny jokes, he told himself that his own apology to Sunny could wait.

      Chris sauntered toward him, looking around the yard. “Where’s my sister?”

      Bron, her arm linked with his, smiled at him. “Keeping a low profile.”

      “She’s avoiding me,” Griffin said.

      But he was keeping out of her way, too. It was as if they’d made some secret pact.

      “Why?” Bron asked. “Because you exchanged a few words about the watch?”

      He flinched. Did the whole town know about Amanda?

      “And when Mandi came outside,” Bron went on, “she said she had apologized.” Amanda was in a group of younger kids now, and it looked as though she was teasing—or bullying?—one of them. Griffin kept an eye on her.

      “I doubt that cleared the air with Sunny.”

      “Well, today it should,” Bron said, then dragged Chris away. Dinner was almost ready, and the heavy, mouthwatering aroma of barbecue filled the air.

      “Remember,” Chris called over his shoulder. “You, me, Bron and Sunny. Some night. Soon.”

      Yeah, sure. Like that would work out any better than his last conversation with Sunny. No matter how pretty she looked.

      The back door opened. And here she came in cutoff shorts and a one-shoulder shirt, walking across the yard with a pair of bowls in her hands. Potato salad and baked beans, he saw. Griffin didn’t hesitate. He jumped to relieve her of one of them and got a faint smile in return.

      “Thanks. If you want to help, there’s