“It’s the building with the big yellow duck, Mr. Jamieson.”
Duncan glanced in the rearview mirror at Patrick’s new friend, the bulky point guard on the school’s basketball team. For a big kid, he really moved on the court.
Duncan pulled into a near-empty lot. A large colorful sign read “Sal’s Duckpin Lanes…All That It’s Quacked Up To Be.” The flat-roofed, brick and mortar building had a plain façade, except for the bright yellow picture of a duck wearing a red bowtie on the front doors.
The three got out and Duncan went over to Patrick. “You sure you want me hanging out? I don’t mind taking a drive around Southbridge. We don’t get over here much.”
Patrick sighed. “Well, I didn’t say so before, but Matt said his mom is staying and likes to bowl. He figured you guys could play.”
“Oh?” The news lifted him. “Guess our bowling won’t infringe on your time.”
Patrick’s sheepish shrug suggested matchmaking wasn’t his thing and he ran to catch up with his friend.
Duncan had never even heard of duckpin bowling until his son mentioned the need for a ride today. Once inside, the greasy aroma of a concession stand made him crave a fry. “Rock Around the Clock” crooned through hidden speakers, a true complement to the dated interior. He half expected the Fonz to greet them. A thud, followed by a thunderous roll, resulted in the shattering of pins.
For all appearances, this seemed like any other bowling alley he’d ever visited, not that there were many. Upon closer look, however, the softball-sized balls and miniaturized pins told him it wasn’t.
“Hey, Pat!” Matt yelled and motioned from the far end of the lanes.
Sophie stood near her son and handed her daughter a pair of bowling shoes. A gentle panic settled in his chest. God only knows what Trent had said to her yesterday.
She glanced his way then cast a sweet smile. He caught his breath, only then realizing he’d held it in, and returned the greeting.
The boys got their shoes and rushed over to the lower pit area where the other kids were gathered. Duncan went straight to Sophie, who stood next to a small round table, searching through her handbag.
“Aaaay…” She looked up and he flipped an Arthur Fonzarelli thumbs-up. “Is this place all its quacked up to be?”
Sophie grinned. “Nobody told me Fonzie would be here today.”
Snug Levi’s and a simple black fitted turtleneck showed off the natural beauty she possessed. He resisted the urge to take her in his arms, kiss her as he had the other night.
“Your friends Potsie and Ralph coming too?”
“Nope. I’m flying solo today. If you’re not too tired from running around in my mind all day, we could bowl a few games.”
Her brow arched. “Wow, last time I got fed a line that corny, I had heartburn for days.”
“Ouch.”
“Aw, come on.” She laughed. “All part of the act. The Duncan Jamieson I’ve seen in action has thicker skin.”
“So…that’s a yes?”
“Absolutely.” She motioned to the reception desk and they headed over.
Sophie hinted to the man who worked the register that they wanted a lane away from the kids. He gave a knowing nod and assigned one at the opposite end of the building, where they went and changed into their shoes.
“Ever been duckpin bowling before?” She slipped off short black boots.
“Nope.”
“Only a handful of lanes exist in the country, mostly on the East Coast. I think the game originated in Massachusetts. Although my grandmother told me she once read Maryland claims the same thing.”
“I’ve learned something new every day since moving here. Speaking of family, you met my brother yesterday morning?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” She stopped tying her shoe and thought for a second. “He’s different than you.”
“True.” Duncan tied his laces and adjusted the cuff of his jeans. “So your conversation with him went okay?”
“Sure. It was fine.” The slight twist of her nose suggested their talk wasn’t perfect. “He’s a little edgy.” She chuckled, tied off the other shoe, and stood.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing really. Just thinking about my grandmother and what she’d say about him.”
“Why would she say anything about Trent?”
Sophie’s mouth turned upward into a coy simper, as if she held in a private joke. “Nana believed a person’s name really spoke to some part of their character.”
He stood and stomped down his pant leg. “Really? What’s your name mean?”
Her perfect lips twisted. “Wisdom. That’s what she said. I’m not saying it’s true.”
“Any idea what my name means?”
Her cheeks turned soft pink. She quickly leaned over to tuck her boots beneath the seat. “No.”
He laughed. “Did you check mine?”
She headed to the score desk. “It’s silly.”
He followed her. “I’m relentless, you know? My business didn’t happen by pure luck. Maybe Duncan means relentless.”
She sighed and faced him. “Your name means dark prince. I don’t put much stock in these name things, though. At least not like my nana did.”
His humor deflated. There were times in his life when that meaning defined him. All those years he’d ignored the needs of his wife and kids, his focus on his work despite their protests for his attention. To outsiders, their life hid the darkness he’d kept inside, at least before Elizabeth jarred him to reality.
Sophie frowned. “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything. Sorry. Sometimes I’m too honest.” She shook her head, disappointment in herself obvious.
“I’m not upset. I’d rather someone spoke their mind. My wife didn’t.”
Sophie stepped over to the ball return and removed one. She frowned and stared at the ball for several seconds before looking up at him. “I’m sure you miss her.”
“Yes. I wish I’d been a better husband.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I buried myself in work for our entire marriage.” His mouth went dry, the admission out loud a tough one.
Sophie studied him without judgment.
“When we discovered Elizabeth’s illness, she’d reached the terminal stage. I guess fear of not being around for the kids made her pummel me with a dose of reality. Like how I should be a more visible father. You know, what you said about my name has some truth.” The honesty brought him some relief, as if he’d finally come out of hiding. “At least it did then. I’m glad to have found out before I lost all chances to make amends with the kids. Family matters.”
“Yes.” Sophie cupped the ball into her hands, staring down as if she detained a precious butterfly in her palms. “Family does matter.”
Her eyes lifted and the tail-end of pain vanished, but he’d seen the ache before. He wanted to ask why, even ask about her husband’s remark the night of the basketball game, yet pushing too hard might backfire.
She stepped closer. “We can’t change the past. Only learn something.”
“I’m trying. I moved here to bridge the gap with my son. Hopefully my daughter too.”
“Then I think you will. Here.” Sophie placed the ball in his palms, closed them together, then wrapped her soft hands around his. She moved closer, near enough for him to catch the aroma of her floral scent. “Don’t let this go to your head, but I believe you have some good prince tendencies.”
A stampede of footsteps startled them both and Sophie pulled her hands from his.
“Mom?” Tia’s chest heaved as she took several deep breaths, winded due to her sprint across the building with her friend. “Can I have money for food?”
“Sure, honey.” She went to her purse.
While he waited, he relished the moment of opening up about himself. It felt damn good, even created a closeness he never expected. The things he’d been keeping from her, though, stared him in the face.
* * * *
Sophie studied Duncan as he positioned himself at the lane. The two brothers were both nice-looking men, but opposite as sunrise and sunset. Duncan’s charisma shined bright whereas Trent’s snarky scorn brought her down. Duncan’s oval face, framed by soft cinnamon hair, had a touchable quality. Trent’s more slender profile and shaggy dark strands were aloof and sharp. Duncan’s broad chest balanced his comfortable midsection, the welcoming frame of a middle-aged man who enjoyed a good meal and exercised enough to stay healthy. In contrast, Trent’s lean physique and long arms had a moody rock-star vibe.
His ball rumbled down the wooden path and knocked over the two final pins. “All right!” He approached her with a hand stretched to receive a high-five. “Now we’re talking.”
She slapped his palm. “Nice.”
He stood behind her chair and rested his hands on the back edge to read over her shoulder. “Guess there’s no way this’ll be a three hundred game for me?”
She looked up to where he hovered. “You’re doing quite well. This isn’t as easy as it looks. I suggest you lower your expectations. You can’t walk before you crawl.”
“My dear, RGI never would have achieved success if I’d lowered my expectations. Besides, who just threw a spare?” He bent down, right next to her face, to read the score sheet.
The sweet blend of sandalwood and soap drifted close. She tried to calculate the third ball into the frame, but his presence had the same effect on her brain as a lobotomy. Besides his closeness, he’d shown her a new side of him. Until now, she’d believed his quest for the Tates’ land and his relocation to Northbridge had been driven by simple success and less noble motives. She’d been wrong. Plus, his comment about connecting with his kids seemed sincere.
After a third attempt at adding, Sophie finally got a number. “With two frames left in this game, you’re at sixty-three. Not bad.”
He frowned. “Not good either.”
“Those two gutter balls threw off your score. You’ll do better next game.”
“Better be careful.” The corner of his eyes softened and his voice dipped, smooth as melted chocolate. “I find optimism in a woman sexy. Your turn.”
She stood and his palm slid to her mid-back, guiding her upright. He stared into her eyes while the heat of his touch radiated on her back and she wiggled into the warmth.
“Why don’t you show me how it’s done?” His tender pitch caressed her, spoken as such an enticing offer that he could’ve won a Grammy for best erotic tone used in a sentence.
She quietly whispered, “We’re still talking about bowling, right?”
“Maybe.” Duncan’s lip curled into a seductive grin. He motioned for her to step up to the lane, and then he took her vacated seat.
Through hidden speakers, Johnny Cash crooned with a reminder to keep a close watch on your heart. She stopped and turned to look at Duncan, whose gaze rested on her. His handsome face, playful and relaxed, made her heart flutter. She willed it to land in his hands. Calm settled over his face. He winked and a slow heat crept through her entire body, her knees nearly melting.
He cleared his throat. “If you don’t go soon, this really won’t be about bowling.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad.” Desire shadowed his expression and she winked right back at him then turned to face the pins with a confident flip of her hair. Yesterday’s call to Marcus popped into her head, and with it a heaping dose of guilt over not having trusted Duncan. Wasn’t her trust all he’d asked for?
Stepping forward, she released the ball. It banged then rolled to the left and dropped into the gutter inches from the pin.
Forty minutes later, they’d finished their second game. Duncan rounded Sophie’s chair and sat beside her, in the seat meant for the unused lane next to them.
“Final score?”
“I got one forty-three. You got one ten.”
He reached over her arm and found his row, following each box with the tip of his finger. “Maybe I should double check your math. Seems you were having trouble adding before.” The corners of his lips struggled to stay serious.
“Thanks to you.” She placed her hands over his and trapped them with her palms. “Duckpin bowling rule number one…trust the scorekeeper.”
Their hands remained snuggled together in a heap on the tabletop. The atmosphere shifted, but she still couldn’t shake the idea Duncan had asked for her to have faith in him and she’d gone elsewhere.
“Well, Ms. Shaw, do you plan to distract me this way when you interview me tomorrow night for Northbridge in Focus?”
His thumb stroked the top of her hand. Talk about distracting. “Nope. I play fair. Since you brought up the interview, could I ask an awkward question?”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Have you considered who on your staff might have talked to the press about Bernadette?”
“Yes.”
“Did your brother make the list?”
The grooves in his forehead crumpled. “Yesterday I talked to Trent about the story from the Courant. So, yes. He made my list. He also denied being involved, and I believe him.”
“Any other ideas?”
“I wish I knew.” He paused and stopped caressing her hand. “I think you should know something. I hope you won’t share what I’m about to tell you.”
Sophie’s inner Benedict Arnold tried to ignore the faith he showed in her. “I won’t say a word.”
Duncan drew in a deep breath. “Trent’s adopted.”
“So?”
His hands slipped off hers and he fiddled with the black leather band of his watch. “His birth father is from Northbridge.”
“Oh. I had no idea. Mind if I ask who?”
He studied her with great consideration before answering. “Elmer Tate. It’s the reason we’re interested in the property.”
Sophie digested the relationship. “Wait. Elmer doesn’t have any other children. So Trent’s kind of the heir to the Tates’ land?”
Duncan slowly nodded while her mind raced with a dizzying array of questions. She grabbed the first one making any sense.
“Who’s Trent’s mother?”
“Nobody you’d know.” He glanced away for a quick second.
He was hiding something, but she kept quiet, still overwhelmed by the news about Elmer. He’d lived here his whole life. Not that she was privy to all his business, but she never pictured him leaving town and meeting a woman. He and Otis belonged to the local VFW hall, so perhaps in the military he’d met someone.
“If he wanted his real son to have the land, why’d they put it up for sale? Why let me get my hopes up?”
“The men disagreed. Elmer wanted an owner from inside the lake community, but Otis didn’t care who they sold the place to.” He stopped playing with his watch. “In fact, we didn’t realize there was another bidder until we had already shown an interest in the land.”
She now hated Otis more than ever. “I knew Otis was behind this. Did he contact you?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Not me, my mother. She saw this as an opportunity for Trent.” Duncan averted his gaze down the alley. “He’s got a history of problems. Drug related ones. He’s been substance free for a few years, but she thought a little piece of his past might give him some incentive to stay sober. He once outright told me being in our family made him feel like a charity case.”
Trent’s off-putting demeanor reminded her how life’s circumstances played a huge role in our adult behavior. “What about Buzz? Why’d he get involved?”
“When Trent came up with the idea for the resort, it changed everything. Otis called us two days later and said Buzz was behind the project.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know the rest.”
She factored in her reasons for wanting the property.
He took her hand and squeezed. “I can see how much the land means to you, but I had reasons too. Not only about my firm and profit.” He blew out a huge breath. “It’s such a relief telling you this. I’ve been so conflicted, like I’ve been lying to you.”
Lying? Sophie’s emotions tangled in a nasty web. Duncan felt so right, something she didn’t want to lose. Now, though, the lines of idealism she’d lived by for years, so orderly and clear, were blurred.
“You’re not a liar,” she spoke softly. “You’re trying to do a good thing for your brother.”
Sophie stared up into her own mountain of lies: the call to Marcus, the anonymous note about the Jamiesons, even keeping Henry’s death a secret.
“Hey.” He tipped up her chin with a finger. “Something wrong? I heard your family used to own the land. Sounds like you all have many reasons to want the land. I still feel so bad about barging in and taking it away—”
“Nothing’s wrong. Let’s forget about my past.”
Duncan’s kindness for his brother struck the soft spot in her heart. He’d handed her a huge piece of himself today.
The pack of lies she’d stored now made their way to the tip of her tongue. “I think it’s time I—”
The continued caress of his thumb left a fluttering in her stomach and made her reconsider the outcome of dumping this pile of truth. The truth about Henry would put him in an awkward position, having to decide whose past mattered more to him—Trent’s or Sophie’s.
She reached out and smoothed a hand over his bristly cheek. “I want you to know you’ve officially earned my trust.”
His whole face softened then he leaned in and softly kissed her lips. He paused and searched her face for approval.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
His mouth covered hers, coaxed her lips apart. Warm breath mingled with hers then he cupped her cheeks, pulled her closer, and deepened the kiss. A kiss she didn’t want to end, however, she slowly pulled away knowing the kids bowled nearby.
Duncan smoothed his palm slowly along her shoulder and stared into her eyes with heavy lids, the desire in his gaze making her burn for more. The tender touch of his lips still imprinted on hers served as a reminder to call Marcus and call off the hunt on Trent. Duncan had put his trust in her, trust she didn’t deserve.
The time had also come to remove herself from both tomorrow’s interview on Northbridge in Focus and her role on the paper. No story was worth ruining what she’d just found.