Jace nodded. “I mean do you miss home?”
“You said this was gonna be our home.” His voice sounded frightened, as if he’d been promised something and someone was about to take it away from him.
“You had a lot of friends there. Here there’s no one. At least, not yet.”
Ari’s eyes filled with tears. “Are we going back?”
Jace put his arms around him and lifted him off the fence. He cradled him close as the child sniffed. “We’re not going back.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Small arms circled Jace’s neck. He didn’t know what it was about the Kendall that had gotten to Ari, but it had happened quickly. The only thing Jace could think of that had gotten to him was a person...not a thing. And that same person was the current owner of the Kendall.
* * *
SATURDAY NIGHT, SHELDON THOUGHT. He didn’t work weekends since the owners of the boats usually took them out on Saturdays and Sundays. He enjoyed the rest. He read at night since he had no television, radio or phone. They were luxuries he’d discovered were unnecessary. And there was no one to call even if he had a phone.
He spent most of his free time at the library. At least he had a library card and he never returned books late. The librarian always smiled at him, although he knew she pitied him. His taste in books was eclectic. Sheldon wanted not only to be entertained with the fiction he read, but he wanted to learn, to study subjects that interested him and on those he thought he needed to know.
He’d taken many books out about boats and the creatures that attacked them, the sea tides, the North Carolina coastal region, cook books and electrical wiring. He didn’t know why he took the electrical wiring book out. The bungalow was dimly lit, its electrical panel decades old.
Tonight Sheldon was reading an engrossing novel about a female clock maker. He heard the soft lap of the water not far from his front door. Sheldon loved the water. He’d lived with horses all his life and never knew how soothing the water could be. He went back to his book, pulling it closer to his face so he could see the print.
A knock on the door startled him. No one had knocked on his door since he rented the bundalow. Who could that be?
Sheldon untangled his long legs and stood. The knock came again. Slowly he made his way over and peered through the window. Christian stood there.
“What are you doing here?” Sheldon asked as he yanked the door open. It wasn’t dark yet, but it was dangerous for the boy to be alone.
“My grandma sent me to invite you to eat with us.”
“What?”
“We want you to eat with us.”
“Oh.”
“You should come. We’re having meatloaf.” Christian frowned at that. “I’d rather have a hamburger, but Grandma says we can’t eat hamburgers every day.”
“Did you know meatloaf is hamburger? It’s just presented differently. I bet if you put yours on a hamburger bun, it would taste the same.”
“Do you think so?” His smile was wide and his eyes open in anticipation.
“I’m sure of it, but—” He stopped, raising a finger and making sure he had the child’s attention. “You’ll have to eat all your vegetables.” Sheldon felt slightly foolish giving a child advice about what he should eat since his own diet consisted of whatever was cheapest.
“So, are you coming?”
Sheldon hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in years. His stomach reacted to the thought of some delicious meatloaf. He wanted to go, but he also wanted to be presentable and he had nothing that would make him look like the man he used to be.
“Give me a minute to clean up,” he said. “You wait there.”
Sheldon quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth. He pulled a clean, though unironed shirt from his closet and slipped into it. His shorts and deck shoes would have to do. Soon he joined Christian on the sand and they walked the short distance to the house that the boy and his grandmother occupied.
“Good evening,” he said formally. “Thank you for inviting me.” He stood stiffly and uncomfortably. He was unsure what to do or say and where to put his hands. He had nothing to bring her, no wine, no flowers, no candy.
“Come in. The food is hot and ready.”
Christian jumped right into his seat. Sheldon looked confused as to which chair he should take. Christian pointed at one of the chairs and Sheldon took it, assuming the other one was his grandmother’s. Audrey slid in front of the final place setting.
“Grandma, Sheldon said if I put my meat on a bun, it would be a hamburger. Can I do that?”
“May I do that,” she corrected in what must have been her best schoolteacher voice. “And if you want a bun, you can have it.”