A knock sounded at Jack’s door, and he pushed away from his sketch pad to investigate. As he stood, his muscles ached from his early run.
This time, he paused to look out a window first, not something he’d ever felt he had to do in Summer Beach. Scout padded behind him, curious about his actions.
He hadn’t been able to get that conversation he’d overheard at the cafe out of his mind. While he’d known that the investigative reporting he’d done could pose future threats, he didn’t have a family back then.
Peering through a slit in the blinds, Jack saw a postal van pull away. All clear.
He’d never been much concerned for his safety, and he’d been in plenty of dangerous situations working on crucial stories. But now, he had Leo to think about. The boy was playing video games in his bedroom.
Jack unlocked the door and collected the box resting on his porch. It was from his sister in Texas. Liz had wasted no time finding what he asked for and sending it to him. He tore open the box. A faded red velvet box tumbled out, along with a host of memories.
His grandmother Josephine had worn this ring most of her life. She had been a proud, hard-working woman who forged a future for her family and her descendants. In many ways, Marina reminded him of his grandmother.
Grandma Josephine was whip-smart, practical, and forward-thinking. As a young woman growing up on a Texas farm, Josephine had dreamed of more, even though opportunities for women were limited back then. Yet, through sheer determination, she became an entrepreneur, designing fine clothes for women. She sold her first pieces to the upscale Neiman Marcus department store and traveled by rail to hold trunk shows at other exclusive boutiques in New York, Chicago, Kansas City, San Francisco, Seattle, and Los Angeles.
In Dallas, she met his grandfather, a newspaperman. And that was how Jack had come by his fascination for news, even though his father and mother had preferred working the family farm, as hard as it was.
As Jack opened the velvet box, the tarnished hinges creaked with age. Nestled inside was a heavy platinum band with a double row of old, European-cut diamonds. It wasn’t flashy, but it was of the finest quality. Just the sort of ring that Marina could wear even while she worked in the kitchen if she wanted.
The ring had come just in time for his dinner with Marina.
As he was admiring the craftsmanship, his phone buzzed in his pocket. His former editor’s name flashed across the screen. Gus Gustafson. He’d called this morning, too, but Jack hadn’t answered it, and he’d forgotten to call him back. He tapped his phone.
“Hey, Gus. How goes it at the Daily Salt Mine?”
“We are just waxing nostalgic about one of our most prominent escapees. Has the sun fried your brain yet?”
Jack chuckled. “Only around the edges. But the sea breeze is good for clearing the cobwebs.”
“What’s this about you illustrating children’s books? Tell me we’ve got that wrong. You’ve always been a hard-news man.”
“Times change, Gus.”
“I know you, Jack. That’s why I’m calling. Some new information just crossed my desk. Thought you’d want to know.” He brought up a name from the past.
Jack remembered all too well. White-collar criminal with mob ties. Money laundering. A suave character on the outside but ruthless on the inside. His investigative reporting had broken the story and led to the arrest of this man and his cohorts.
Jack was not on his most-favored list.
Gus went on. “The word is he’s just been released early for good behavior.”
The fine hairs on Jack’s neck bristled in warning. “Thanks for the info, Gus. But I’ve got work to do.”
“I never forgot when you said, ‘This story ain’t over.’ And you had the receipts to back it up.”
Could this be related to the guy he’d overheard at the cafe? “It’s been a long time, Gus.”
“Not that long.” The man paused. “Say, how’s that cash flow going for you?”
Jack winced. That hurt. While the cost of living in Summer Beach was less than in New York, he had additional unexpected expenses pertaining to Leo. He wanted to provide a home for his son—and for Marina. When he’d rented this beach cottage, Bennett had negotiated a purchase option for him. Jack had been saving money to exercise the option and pay for some renovations. This was a major goal.
“Look, Jack. I’ve got a feeling you were right, so how about you pick up where you left off? You could get back in your groove with a timely story.”
“I don’t know…” Jack had to admit that it was tempting. An important story, maybe one that he could parlay into a major book deal, would be welcome.
They had a brief discussion about contract rights, and Gus was surprisingly generous. It was almost too good of a deal to pass up, but he still had to think about the impact this could have on Leo and Marina. He wouldn’t put them in harm’s way.
Maybe he could team up with a younger colleague, someone who didn’t have a family to worry about. Like he’d once been. One that would take the risks.
“Are you still there, Jack?”
Jack scraped his stubbled chin. “I’ll have to think about this. Can I let you know next week?”
“Next week is a long time. But I can do that for you. Let me hear from you.” Gus hung up.
Jack stared at the screen. He knew the offer wouldn’t be open long. Gus would move to the next story if Jack didn’t grab the opportunity. That’s just the way journalism was. The fact that Gus had thought to call him was surprising, too. Jack was usually the one making the story pitches. He couldn’t help but think there was something more to this offer.
Was that related to the conversation he’d overheard?
Jack’s mind shifted into overdrive. He’d have to consult his old notes and figure out the puzzle again. A thought seized him. No way would the old man make a direct threat. He’d always been more strategic, like a snake waiting for the right moment to strike for his vengeance.
Jack shivered at the thought. But he had found a new life in Summer Beach. Nothing would stop him from his job of caring for Leo and, if she would have him, spending his life with Marina.
Just then, Leo barreled from his room. “Hey, Dad. Who was at the door?”
“Just a delivery. Are you hungry yet?”
Leo put his hands on his stomach. “You gave me a giant turkey sandwich with potato chips and pickles this morning.”
“And your point is?”
“I’m still stuffed. That wasn’t breakfast.”
“Sure it was. I used to eat pizza for breakfast.”
“You still do, Dad.”
He didn’t realize Leo had noticed. One more bad habit to clean up. “I’ll pick up eggs and cereal this afternoon.”
“Can Samantha come over? Her mom can drop her off in a few minutes, and we can take Scout to the beach. Logan wants to go, too. And he asked if I can spend the night with him tonight.”
“As long as it’s okay with his parents.” Logan was Bennett’s nephew and lived in the house in back of theirs. Bennett’s sister and her husband often asked Leo to supper.
“It is.” Leo grabbed a beach towel from the bathroom.
“And stay away from the riptides.”
“I’ve grown up at the beach, remember?”
That was true. Vanessa had owned a home in Santa Monica, so Leo probably knew more about the beach than he did.
Jack wrapped his son in a huge hug, lifting him off the floor. “It took me so long to find you, and I don’t want to risk losing you now. Besides, your mom would kill me if you drowned while she was on her honeymoon. No way she wants to cut her trip to Europe short for that.”
Leo grinned. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, Leo.” Jack ruffled his son’s thick hair, which was so much like his own. “Go call Samantha.” He paused, thinking about Gus and the conversation he’d heard at the cafe. “And I’m coming with you.”
“We’re okay on our own.”
Jack feigned disappointment. “Hey, can’t a dad tag along? I’ll bring a cooler with juice boxes.”
Leo made a face. “You know we’re kind of old for those, right? But you can carry my sports bottle.”
“Sure thing.” Jack whistled for the dog. “Beach time, Scout.”
The yellow Lab leapt to his feet, wagging his tail.
Jack chuckled to himself. He and Leo were doing just fine. What was wrong with pickles for breakfast anyway?
While watching Leo, Samantha, and Logan race back and forth with Scout on the beach, Jack made a call to his friend Bennett.
“What’s up?”
“You sound like you’re running.”
“Just finished. It’s that fundraiser at the school. Had to finish my laps.”
“Oh yeah, I didn’t realize that was today. Guess I owe you some money for that.”
“You can write the big check to the school. They’re collecting all the pledges.”
“Will do. Hey, when you have time, I want to talk about buying this cottage. I have some savings. What do I need to do? I’ve never bought a home before.” Besides being the town mayor, Bennet was also a real estate broker. He’d found the beach cottage for Jack.
“Come run with me tomorrow. We can talk about it then.”
“Again? You’ll do anything to get me on the beach at dawn.”
Bennett chuckled. “Right you are.”
Jack hung up and clasped his knees, watching Leo toss the ball to Scout. He was torn between his desire to provide for his son and the need to keep him safe. That went for Marina, too. But maybe he could bring in a researcher and co-writer. He’d dig through his contacts to see who he could find.
At least he could keep renting out the studio above the garage. Surfers didn’t care if the floor and walls were splattered with paint; it was like living in a Jackson Pollack painting. People thought it was cool and added to the ambiance.
The upstairs unit was nothing fancy. Jack had hauled up a couple of beds, along with a small refrigerator, coffee maker, and microwave. He moved a table and chairs onto the balcony. That was all most people needed, aside from good waves to ride.
He checked the time. The next group would be checking in later today. They were exhausting, changing their arrival date several times, and he’d had to hustle to get the rooms ready. He was so frustrated with their indecisiveness that he told them to call when they were getting close to Summer Beach.
With any luck, Jack could manage everything. He still owed Ginger’s publisher some illustration changes for the next book in her series.
Between Leo’s schedule and needs, cleaning up after the short-term tenants, juggling illustrations, and pitching future stories, Jack was aware that he was making a few mistakes, but this workload would soon pay off. He almost missed the days when he had one job to do and a single deadline.
Even with everything in his life, he’d never missed a due date. He’d come close the other day, but only because he forgot what day it was.
Shielding his eyes from the sun, he scanned the beach for anyone out of the ordinary, but it was only the usual tourists and kids on summer break. He gazed after Leo, Logan, and Samantha, who’d started racing each other, laughing as they stumbled and rolled in wet sand.
The kids and Scout would all need baths. Maybe he’d just hose them off in the backyard with their swimsuits on and toss them a bar of soap. Or get one of those pressure washer attachments. He chuckled at the fun they could have with that, although he might not tell Leo’s mother about it.
Now he could empathize with overwhelmed parents. Maybe he could pitch a single father story about that, even though it wasn’t exactly Pulitzer material. He’d write it under his new pen name, Jack Summers.
Still, the opportunity from Gus weighed on his mind. Jack would have to make a decision fast. If he wanted any part of his old career back—and the good money that came with it—this might be his last chance.