He hated that Georgiana had been rude to Amber, but he couldn’t bring himself to make an issue of it. Ferguson and Georgiana had been so good to Davey, especially in the months right after Wendy had died. Davey’s grandparents had set aside their own grief to spend extra time with Davey and make sure he was okay. They’d paid for a well-known child therapist to have several sessions with Davey, and while Paul usually tried to avoid taking money or expensive gifts from them, in that instance, he hadn’t protested. They’d been right: whatever would help Davey was what they should do.
Overhead, geese honked their mournful cry as they flew in a neat V shape. A cool wind whistled through the pines next to his cottage. It all sounded lonely.
Or maybe that was just him projecting his own feelings. “I’m glad you came to see Davey,” he said, pausing to give the pair a chance to catch up with him and Davey.
“We didn’t just come,” Ferguson said. “We brought Davey a present.”
“I like presents,” Davey said promptly. “Where is it?”
“It’s in the back of the truck.”
Which meant it was big. Ferguson and Georgiana didn’t even own a truck, so they must have borrowed or rented this one.
Davey ran toward the truck, but Ferguson called after him. “Uh-uh. You wait beside Grandma and close your eyes. Paul, give me a hand here.”
Paul smiled, even though he was half groaning inside. What had Davey’s indulgent grandparents bought him now?
Ferguson opened the back tailgate and slid a ramp out, and Paul grabbed the other side. Ferguson was known for overdoing it with his already-bad back. They eased the ramp to the ground and then Ferguson grabbed some kind of remote from the truck’s bed and started pushing buttons. “You can open your eyes now,” he called to Davey.
Davey and Paul gasped in unison as a child-sized, cherry-red ride-on jeep made its way down the ramp. “For the beach,” Ferguson said.
Most grandparents would have bought their grandchild a bucket and shovel for the beach.
“Can I drive it now?” Davey asked.
“You sure can,” Ferguson said.
“Wait a minute,” Paul said. “It’s beautiful and we appreciate it, but I’m not sure it’s safe for a boy as young as Davey.”
“I’m big,” Davey said, a sulky edge entering his tone. “I’m almost five.”
“An adult can control everything through this remote,” Ferguson explained, holding it out so Paul could see.
“But I’ll need to supervise him every second,” Paul said as Davey climbed into the jeep and started examining it. “Because he’ll definitely want to ride it every second.”
And it’s way too expensive, he added to himself. But that was par for the course.
“You’re just here to do some rehab, right? So you’ll have plenty of time to supervise him.” In Georgiana’s voice was a slight edge of disapproval. They didn’t really understand PTSD, didn’t think it was a legitimate illness.
Paul hadn’t, either, not really, until he’d experienced it for himself. “I’ll be doing a volunteer gig here. I’ll find out more about it in the next few days.” Things were still a bit up in the air, from what he understood. “Davey will be going to prekindergarten, just like he did back home.”
“Public school?” Georgiana asked, her eyebrows shooting up.
“Actually, no,” he said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with public school, and that’s likely where Davey will get most of his education. But there’s a private school connected with the program I’m doing, and they provide free tuition as part of the package.”
Georgiana considered that while Ferguson showed Davey all the details of the little red vehicle and got him driving it, slowly, up and down the driveway.
Sarge let out a loud, deep baying bark from inside. “Uh-oh,” Paul said, glad for a moment’s escape from his mother-in-law. “I’d better bring Sarge out so he can join the fun.” He opened the front door and Sarge ran out.
After lifting his leg by a clump of weeds, Sarge trotted over to the jeep. He was so well trained that Paul didn’t keep him on a leash, especially in this low-traffic neighborhood.
“Can Sarge ride?” Davey called out.
“No, buddy, it’s not safe,” Paul said. “He can watch.” Standing in front of the cottage, beside Georgiana, Paul watched Davey and Ferguson laughing together, Ferguson walking beside the vehicle, Davey grinning widely from the driver’s seat. Their voices drifted back on the bay’s cool breeze, the tik-tik-tik of the little vehicle’s motor punctuating their words.
Georgiana looked up and down the cottage-lined street. “It’s a pretty spot,” she admitted. “Wendy would have loved it here.”
“Yes, she would have.” It was partly true. In the last year of Wendy’s life, she’d stopped aspiring after the wealthy lifestyle adhered to by her parents and friends. She’d figured out that money couldn’t buy the important things, like family and love and most of all, health.
That Wendy, the wiser one who’d seen the bigger picture, would have loved it here. Leave it at that.
“How did you get to know that Amber woman?” Georgiana asked.
He definitely didn’t want to describe that episode in detail. “Davey wandered over there, and she was kind to him,” he said. Which was true, although not the whole story.
“I think she wants something from you.”
“Like what?” Paul couldn’t fathom what a woman like Amber would need from a washed-up cop like him.
“Some women are always on the prowl,” she said darkly. “She’s probably lonely and looking for companionship, maybe more.”
“Like my huge bank account?” Paul said lightly. It was a sore point with his in-laws, his humble lifestyle and lack of ambition to earn a big salary. It had been a big sore point with Wendy, once the initial infatuation had worn off.
“Maybe she thinks you have more than you do.”
“I doubt she needs money, Georgiana. And I doubt she wants anything from me.” Some part of him wondered what Georgiana had seen to
