As soon as class ended, Cade gathered his things, hoping to get home as fast as possible. He prayed Ava wasn’t still lying on the floor, exhausted and sobbing. One of the seniors asked him a question about margins and font in her Word program, which he explained in detail. Sure enough, there came Gabby, headed toward him, book bag and coffee mug in tow.
He wasn’t supposed to notice students. But Gabby wasn’t an eighteen-year-old student, she was his age, and she knew how to put him in his place. He must be crazy, but even her defiance was sexy.
“Excuse me, Professor Marshall,” she said, approaching his desk.
She was Trouble. Someone to avoid. But first he had to clear all these inappropriate thoughts out of his head. Including her light, fresh scent, which he’d just noticed as she’d walked up to him. He cleared his throat. “Ms. Langdon,” he said, getting busy sorting his papers.
As he shoved his lecture notes into his book bag, he decided that his attention on Gabby was only because it had been way too long since he’d had sex. It was time to change that, get out a little. Meet some people. Once he had Ava settled, he planned to do just that. He would choose someone simple, easygoing, and nondemanding. Someone who wouldn’t compete with him, screw him over, and leave him for roadkill like his ex.
“I wasn’t complaining about the word count,” she said. “And despite what my question made you think, I am serious about this class.”
“I wasn’t implying that you weren’t a serious student. It’s just that I want to be clear from the beginning that this class will involve work, and anyone who doesn’t have the time to put into it probably shouldn’t be taking it.” He glanced up briefly to see her gazing at him steadily, her eyes stubbornly narrowed.
“Oh, I’ll devote the necessary time to it,” she said. “I’m determined.”
“I’m sure you are,” he said. He stuffed the remaining papers into his book bag. When he looked up, he found she’d already turned to leave.
Oh, hell. “Ms. Langdon?” he called after her. He had to say what was on his mind, as quickly and painlessly as possible. She didn’t deserve the crotchety, authoritarian treatment he’d been doling out in spades because he was struggling to get control of his life…and his reaction to her. Hell, it wasn’t really working anyway.
She stopped at the doorway and turned back. “Yes, Dr. Marshall?”
“I’m sorry about the parking spot.” There. He’d said it.
“You’re sorry about taking my parking spot?” she echoed, a bit incredulously.
“Yes. There were extenuating circumstances, and I—well, I apologize. I was out of line. And—I appreciate that you didn’t say anything in front of the class.”
“That’s all right. Because I guess now you’ll have to give me an A for my silence.” His face must’ve gone blank because she threw up her hands and said, “Kidding.” A bright, wide smile spread across her face—unpretentious and so appealing.
In spite of himself, he smiled too. “Glad we can put that behind us.” He paused. “Except I did see the spot first,” he said, just to get her goat.
The blush rose into her cheeks. “Are you kidding—”
“Yes. Kidding.”
She laughed. “Well then. Apology accepted.” She held out her hand.
He glanced at her offering of peace. Something told him to glower and nod and leave it at that, but he couldn’t do that. He just did the natural thing, reached out and shook her hand. But something happened between the shaking and looking into her big brown eyes, which had locked uncomfortably with his. A frizzle of awareness spread warmly through him, a wave of attraction he hadn’t felt in years.
He had no idea how long he stared—too long. Finally he released his hand. Cleared his throat. Dragged his gaze back to his book bag and started digging for his keys.
“Well, I—um—yeah. See you Wednesday, Dr. Marshall.” She gave a little salute before she turned on her heels and walked out of his classroom.
Cade watched her go. The old metal clock on the wall gave a loud click as the metal hand jolted forward, as if marking the moment that something in his life had just shifted.
* * *
Gabby walked down the fluorescent-lit hallway and out into the drizzly night. Professor Heathcliff had just the kind of aura of darkness she was attracted to—in a bad way. The urge to peel away those shadowy layers and see if something brighter lay beneath—that unexpected smile, for instance—was a temptation she had to ignore.
She gave herself a stern talking to. I will not be attracted to guys with issues. I will not have the hots for my professor. This is my time to figure out who I am, not act on romantic whims, which had clearly gotten her into trouble in the past.
In the glow of the iron lampposts that surrounded the Gothic brick building, a group of students had gathered. As she walked down the wide concrete steps, she recognized Helen’s gray hair and Erin’s pink spikes, which looked extra bright under the lamplight.
“We waited for you,” Helen said, grabbing her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we were giving you another ten seconds, then we were going to storm the classroom,” Erin said, reaching in her denim bag for a cigarette. “I wish the offices were open. I’m dropping this class first thing in the morning.”
“Yeah,” Helen said. “I can’t write fifteen hundred words in a week, let alone a day.”
Gabby laughed. “Dr. Marshall’s bark might be worse than his bite. But still, he’s not exactly going to make this class a fun experience.”
“He’s scary,” Erin said. “I don’t feel like this classroom is a safe space for my muse.”
“I don’t think it’s a safe space for my ego,” Helen said. “It’s already been trampled on by my ex.”
“I work a lot of hours,” Gabby admitted. “I’m not really sure how I’m going to find time to do all of this work.”
“I thought this was supposed to be fun,” Erin said.
An image of Gabby’s dad suddenly came to mind. He was kindly and gray haired, but under all that pleasantness was a driven man who would not back down until each one of his children was settled and happy. She guessed his drive came from a promise he’d made to their mother before she died, that he’d watch over and guide each kid’s future—except it had developed into a crusade. Her dad was hell-bent on having each of them be successful, self-sufficient human beings. The problem was that his ideas of success didn’t always jibe with his children’s.
She’d had many battles with her father as an undergraduate as she’d gone from major to major. Everyone in the family had breathed a sigh of relief when she’d finally settled into law school and, except for her bad choice of a fiancé, had molded her life into exactly how her father had envisioned it—a stable career, a decent income.
But the nagging feeling she just couldn’t get out of her gut that something was missing in her life had only intensified once she’d found a box of her mom’s things buried in a closet at her grandmother’s house. In it were old college papers, notebooks full of writing, and a manuscript.
Her mother wrote. Maybe Gabby’s dissatisfaction with her job and her own desire to write weren’t quite as crazy as she once thought. In any case, she had to find out herself.
“We can’t quit,” Gabby said softly, and then again louder. “We’re not going to quit. We can be strong together.” She locked arms with Helen, who looked startled. Erin lifted a skeptical brow. “We’re not going to let this guy get to us. But he’s a big-time author. I think we can learn a lot from him. And maybe he’s not as mean as we think.” Because when he’d smiled just now, lordie, the angels practically sang.
Besides, Gabby was an optimist.
Heathcliff might be romantic and mysterious, but she would stay away from him, because no distraction was going to stand in the way of what this man could teach her about writing.
The group dispersed, and Gabby walked over to her car, which she’d parked directly in front of the administration building. She pulled off the soggy yellow ticket that was stuck under the windshield and smiled. She’d parked here as a last-ditch effort not to be late for class. Turned out it was so worth the thirty bucks she’d have to pay to see the look on Dr. Marshall’s face when he’d discovered she’d made it to class before he did.
* * *
“How’s my princess?’ Cade’s mother held out her arms for Ava, who leaped into them, while Cade looked on and smiled. It was a sunny Friday afternoon and they’d both survived their first week of class/day care, and now he and Ava were visiting his mom in the bookstore where he’d spent so many wonderful hours as a child.
This was the real reason he’d moved back home. To give Ava the experience of having a family, to show her that she was loved and cared for and adored even though things hadn’t worked out between her mother and him.
“I have some picture books for you,” Paige said to her only grandchild as she carried her to the back of the store. “Would you like to look at them while your dad and I talk for a few minutes?” Cade’s mother was completely grandchild deprived and made no secret she fully intended to make up for every lost second by being lovey, warm, and by completely spoiling Ava. An arrangement Ava happened to be completely thrilled with.
Hell, Cade had to admit he was pretty thrilled with it too.
While his mom grabbed books for Ava and chatted, a big basset hound moseyed out of his corner bed and up to Cade’s calf, nudging it.
“Hey there, Cooper,” Cade said, stooping to scratch the dog behind the ears. “What’s up, buddy?”
Cooper wasn’t telling, but as Cade looked around, he noted not much had changed in the old building since his childhood: same painted tin ceiling, same brick fireplace from Victorian times surrounded by green and maroon tiles. He’d just walked over to inspect a cracked tile when his mom spoke.
“What a nice surprise,” she said. “I thought they were keeping you too busy at the college to stop by, but I’m so glad you did.” She clapped her hands together and spoke to Ava. “I’m so happy to have you and your daddy back in town.”
“Me too, Mom,” Cade said, and he realized he meant it. Even with all his mixed feelings about his new job, being back home just felt somehow very right.
“Me too, Grammie,” Ava said with a sweet smile.
He stood from inspecting the tile. “I stopped by to order a few books for my research. Do you have time to help?”
“Of course.” His mom led his daughter over to a window seat strewn with multicolored pillows, where a big yellow cat lay curled up enjoying the sun. She grabbed a small stack of picture books from atop a bookshelf and set them in front of Ava. The basset promptly climbed his personal little basset-sized staircase and plopped down next to her. “Here you go, sweetheart,” Paige said. “You sit there with Mr. Buttons and Cooper for a few minutes while I help your dad, okay?”
Ava was more than content “reading” a story aloud to her new pals. Meanwhile, Cade followed his mom to the big wooden counter. The newest Harlan Coben lay on the counter, turned upside down with a pair of bifocals sitting on top. She snatched them up and perched them on her nose.
“How is that?” Cade asked, giving a nod to the book.
“Oh, terrific.” His mom sighed. “Harlan is a wonderful writer. But not as good as you, though.” His mom had never met a book she didn’t like.
“Mom,” Cade said with a warning tone. “I’m not here to talk about my writing. I’m here to order books for my research project. At my new job. As a professor, remember? I have a big meeting coming up with the New Faculty committee, and I have to tell them what research I’m going to produce and how that ties into my plan for tenure. If they approve, I’ll be the new Fitzgerald Scholar.”
“Well, that sounds very proper. Very structured,” she said, pressing her lips together in that way she had when she didn’t want to say what she was really thinking.
“I am structured, Mother. I have a real job now.” He’d had a grant to finish his second novel, but he’d been unable to produce, and that was why he’d taken the teaching job.
“I hate to see you in a job that limits your creativity.”
She failed to take into account the decent hours, great benefits, and, most important of all, the steady stream of income that was crucial when raising a child. His parents had been divorced since he was twelve, and lord knew they hadn’t had a great marriage, but at the very least his mom had had his father’s support in raising Cade and his sister, financially at least. His dad didn’t do emotional support. Then or now.
“Most moms would be proud of the fact that I got this position at the college.” Cade knew she was proud of him—she just would not stop campaigning for him to go back to writing. “And what have you got against professors? You were married to one.”
“Let’s not drag your father into this.” She paused. “Cade, you know I’d be proud of you even if you were a beachcomber, if that’s what made you happy. I just can’t help feeling that your divorce sucked all the happiness from your life, except where Ava is concerned.”
A glance over at Ava showed her happily turning pages while Cooper nudged his nose under her arm and the cat curled up in a ray of sunshine on her other side.
“Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” his mom asked. “Louisa brought us some new blend from the Bean. The tourists love it, so we decided to try it and now we know why—it’s really good.”
“That sounds great, but don’t fuss.” He was a coffee guy through and through. He smiled at his mom as she bustled around, starting the coffeemaker and then turning to a table heaped high with stacks of books. “Oh, this just came in and I snagged you a copy. Thought you might want to read your competition.”
Reluctantly, he took the book she handed him. He recognized it immediately. It was the latest bestseller by Paul Blazer, one of his fellow students at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His third novel since Iowa.
He set the book back down atop the pile. “Thanks for thinking of me, but I left that life behind. I really don’t have time to write anymore.”
He poured the coffee, and his mom grabbed a box of Thin Mints from a shelf below the counter and pushed it over to him, saying nothing, which spoke volumes.
His favorite cookie. Unable to resist, he dug in. And tried to steer the conversation back to a more neutral topic.
“You need anything repaired while I’m here?” He walked back over to the old fireplace. “I see you’ve got a couple of cracked tiles in the fireplace surround.”
“Of course. The building is a hundred and forty years old. But Caden, I can’t help thinking—”
“Mom. Don’t.”
“What kind of mother would I be if I can’t speak my mind when I see that something’s bothering my child?”
“Maybe the kind with an adult child who can figure things out on his own?”
She frowned. “How many years were you there for me when I was getting over the divorce? I hadn’t had a job for fifteen years. I didn’t know how to do anything, and I was so stunned and shocked that I had trouble functioning. Now I can offer support to you and Ava.”
He squeezed his mom’s shoulder. “You were and are a great mom. You picked yourself up and did great things. And I want you to know I’m doing fine. I have an opportunity for a good, stable job. And Ava will settle in. We’re both doing terrific.”
“You forget I’ve known you your entire life. And I know how much you love words. You were always scribbling in notebooks, making up stories, creating characters and worlds—”
“And then life happened, and I had to grow up.”
“Sweetheart, I understand what you’re going through, because I went through it myself. I’m afraid you’re throwing the baby out with the bathwater. You’re getting away from what you love to do.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” Cade smiled as gently as possible but stood at the same time, signaling that the conversation was done.
“I bet once you settle into a routine you just might find joy in writing again. And maybe you’ll start dating again too.”
He gave her a warning look. Dating someone seriously was the last thing on his mind.
She suddenly reached over and grabbed his hand. “You’ve been suffering by yourself for way too long. You need to know your sister and I are here for you and for Ava because we want to be. We love you. Don’t close yourself off from your family.”
Cade nodded, because he was a little choked up. “I get it, Mom. It’s good to be back home.”
“Grammie, will you read this book to me?” Ava asked, holding up a book with a colorful painting of a little girl in pigtails holding hands with an older, balding man.
“Sure, Sweet Face, bring it over here.”
Ava lifted the book up to the counter and Paige reached for it. The title was Just Grandpa and Me.
Cade exchanged glances with his mother. “Tell you what, sweetie,” Paige said, holding out the cookies for Ava to take one, “let’s pick another one.”
“She’d be better off reading Bad Grandpa,” Cade said as Ava disappeared around the bookshelves.
“You know your father is living in Gates Mills now.”
A small bedroom community of Cleveland with rolling hills, plenty of acreage, and a lot of mansions. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“He stopped drinking.”
“Don’t tell me you’re on friendly terms with him.” Cade’s voice came out sounding an octave higher than usual.
“I wouldn’t exactly say friendly. More like cordial. He’s come into the shop a few times for books. You might just run into him yourself.”
“I’ll make certain that doesn’t happen.” Cade noticed his mother’s frown. “You can’t want me to have a relationship with him again.”
She shrugged. “He’s worked hard to get his act together. I believe he regrets things.”
“Oh, Mom, come on. Surely you’re not defending him.”
“I’m not defending him. But I am old enough to realize holding on to old resentments poisons you. I’m over it. Maybe you should get over it too.”
He thought about all the disappointments that they’d suffered over the years—his father’s drinking, which his mother had struggled at first to cover up, the childhood events his father had never showed up for, the arguing. And, later, the myriad of young girlfriends his father had brought so nonchalantly to events he was actually sober enough to attend—the school plays, the ball games, the awards ceremonies. All that, and Cade had continued to believe the best about him. Had seen the brilliant literary critic—hell, he’d wanted to be half as brilliant as his father—and ignored the burned-out drunk who didn’t seem to give much of a damn about him or his sister, Beth. Until…
“I might’ve forgiven him the awful things he said about my book. But when he accused me of selling out to buy fame…that was it.”
“You had reason to be angry with him. All I’m saying is, I think your father feels remorse. Maybe you’ll have the opportunity while you’re here to reconnect.”
“I don’t need that kind of relationship, Mom,” Cade said.
“Maybe not, but people change, and your daughter could really use a few relatives.”
“Just not bad ones,” Cade said.
His mom rolled her eyes and reached across the counter. “Hand over your list and I’ll start ordering your books.”
Just then the tiny tinkle of the bell over the door sounded, and the mailman walked in with a leather sack slung over his shoulder. He tipped his hat to Paige as he approached the desk and handed her some mail. Cade recognized him immediately as Matt McGee, or Matt the Mailman, as he was known when Cade was a kid. He was a little grayer, a little balder, but he had the athletic shape of a guy who walked a lot.
“Matt, you remember my son, Cade. And that beautiful little child over there is my granddaughter, Ava.”
Matt shook Cade’s hand with a strong, steady shake. “Hey there, Cade. Nice to see you all grown up.”
“Hey, Matt. How are Anna and Connor?” Cade had gone to school with Matt’s kids.
“Fantastic.” He turned to Cade’s mom. “This came for you, Paige. Maybe it’s those tiles you ordered for your fireplace? I can come and fix those after my route on Saturday.”
“Why, thanks,” Cade’s mom said. “Cade just offered to help out with that too.”
Her tone sounded odd—nervous, maybe. Enough to make Cade look up. He wasn’t completely sure, but his mother looked like she had some color in her cheeks.
“So you writing your next bestseller?” Matt said. “Your mom’s impatient for it, you know.”
“I just started teaching at the college,” Cade said. “Not much time to write.”
“Well, glad you’re back in town. And I know your mom sure is glad.”
“Thanks,” Cade said. What was going on here? Things might look the same in his hometown, but only on the outside. His mother had apparently forgiven his dad, and was she dating? He didn’t even want to think about that.
Matt gave him a pat on the shoulder and as he left out the door, Cade couldn’t help noticing that he tossed a wink in his mother’s direction, which brought color to her cheeks again. He’d started randomly flipping through one of the books his mom had handed him when the door opened again and he heard someone say, “Hello, Paige. Lovely to see you.”
Cade jerked his head up at the sound of the too-familiar voice. Standing next to him at the counter was a broad-shouldered, silver-haired man. His father.
“Oh, hello, Elliot,” his mother said cheerily. “We were just talking about you.”
“I hope with sympathy,” Elliot said. “Or at least a sense of humor.”
“Neither,” Cade said. “Just Mom being her usual kind and forgiving self.”
“That book you ordered came in yesterday,” his mother said, sending Cade a warning look that he interpreted as try to be civil. “I’ll run back and get it.”
His father stood there, scrutinizing him closely. Cade had the sense that he was looking into a mirror at an image of himself years into the future. The same thick hair, his father’s cut closely and tamed; the same thick brows, the same defined jawline, stubborn and unyielding. Yep, they were both definitely cut from the same cloth.
“You’re looking well,” his father said quietly.
Cade’s first reaction was to move a step closer to the counter so that he blocked his father’s view of Ava. As if that would protect her from this man who had wreaked so much pain and havoc on their family. He leveled his breathing as he decided his next move. His father looked fit and trim, all evidence of bloat or belly gone. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and dress pants, his blue eyes as bright as ever. The ravages of years of alcohol abuse seemed confined to creases around his eyes and mouth, which in his case was a look he wore well.
“Your mother tells me you’re teaching at Glenn,” his father said, trying again to engage him.
“Yes. Just started.” He couldn’t bring himself to make pleasant conversation. He told himself he was no longer the desperate adolescent boy begging for his father’s love and attention. Elliot had failed horribly as a father, and Cade was not obligated to continue a relationship that brought him only disappointment and sorrow.
“I’d hoped you’d have another book out by now.”
Anger made the blood whoosh in his ears. “Why would that even matter to you, Elliot?” His father had ravaged his book in the press and privately berated Cade for what he’d assumed was a depressing ending contrived to please the literary crowd. When Cade had finally done something his father had never managed to do—write a novel—his father’s response had been that it hadn’t been good enough. But then, nothing with their relationship ever was.
Cade braced for judgment. A critique, which Elliot did so well. Yet his father was uncharacteristically silent.
“Of course it matters to me. You’re my son.”
Cade controlled a snort, but just barely. Fortunately his mother walked out of the back room just then. “Here you go,” she said, handing Elliot a brown envelope and placing another book on Cade’s pile. “You’re both all set.” She looked nervously from one to the other.
“Thank you, Paige,” his father said, the perfect gentleman.
Cade gathered up his books. His father was still staring at him with a shrewd expression. “Nice seeing you, Caden,” he said.
“Take care, Elliot,” Cade said. It was the most he could bring himself to say. “See you soon, Mom. Thanks for the books.”
“I’m thinking dinner one day this weekend,” she called after Cade. “With your sister. Check your schedule, okay?”
Cade nodded and turned to get Ava, but even though he’d left the counter, he could still see his father’s face in front of him, and the look in his eyes. Maybe it was his imagination, or his brain playing tricks. But it was an expression he knew only too well. A longing. Except it was too late for that. Way too late.