By the time the end of October rolled around, Jazz’s cast was off, and thanks to a boatload of physical therapy, her wrist was just about back to normal. Nick’s assignment with the task force was nearly at an end, and she was glad. She needed him around. So did Wally.
That Saturday afternoon when Wally heard Nick’s car pull into the driveway, he barked and ran to the door.
“Hey!” Nick was all smiles. He patted Wally and kissed Jazz. “We need to talk.”
“I never like hearing we need to talk. What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Nick grinned. “Not a thing. Except for me having to admit you were right.”
She pursed her lips and considered this. “About…?”
“Family, for one thing. You’re the one who says family—”
“Is the most important thing.” She considered his smile and the breezy way he’d rushed into the house and a heady mixture of relief and happiness flooded through her. “You talked her into it, didn’t you? Kim’s going to rehab.”
“I didn’t talk her into it. Because me talking her into it wouldn’t work, would it? She talked herself into it. She knows it’s the right thing to do. She went into a residential program this afternoon.”
“Oh, Nick!” She threw her arms—both her arms—around his neck. “I’m so glad. I’ll do anything I can to help. I’ll send cards and visit and—”
“No visitors, not for a while. The counselor explained the patients need to come to grips with themselves and their problems before they start letting other people back into their lives. By that time, we should know about ownership of the coins, too. If no one comes forward to claim them, maybe they’ll belong to Kim. Who knows.”
“She deserves treasure for what she went through. And you know what? I’m going to miss her.” Jazz laughed. “I never thought I’d say that. She’s one brave lady.”
“And we’re going to celebrate that. And your back-in-shape wrist. And the fact that you didn’t get yourself killed.”
Jazz ignored the steely cop glare that went along with that last statement. She backed up and held her hands out at her sides. “All my parts are in perfect working order.”
“I intend to test out that theory thoroughly when we get home. For now, get your jacket. We’ve got a dinner date.”
Jazz purred with pleasure. They were not extravagant, even when they were celebrating, and they certainly weren’t pretentious. They’d avoid the expensive foodie spots in the neighborhood and still manage to find someplace with candles on the table, a decent wine selection, maybe an outdoor patio if it wasn’t too chilly. “Dinner for two sounds perfect.”
“Except it’s not. Dinner for two, I mean.”
It wasn’t like Nick to be coy. “We’re meeting Sarah and Matt,” she ventured.
He shook his head.
“My mom and Peter?”
“Nope.”
“My brothers are both working.”
“Mine isn’t.”
It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. “Your brother…? You…?” A rush like a thousand champagne bubbles fizzed through Jazz’s insides. “Nick, did you—”
“We took a DNA test. Jazz, I’m a little scared. I’ve never had to deal with this sort of thing before. I guess I’ll find out for myself about how important family is.” He tugged her hand. “Come on. We’re having dinner with Tyler Raab.”