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WAY TOO EARLY THE NEXT morning, Morgan ran searches for the best practices for becoming a child’s guardian, then started working on the Why Austin Should Live With Me list Cole had suggested. Documentation was still an issue. She went through credit card statements, taking screenshots of transactions she could tie to Austin.
Using the small keyboard and its touchpad was already aggravating her carpal tunnel. She put her wrist braces on and went through the box where she’d packed her office supplies and connected her ergonomic keyboard to her laptop. The floor was more comfortable than the couch, so she leaned against the wall and went to work.
School. If Austin stayed here, would she need to enroll him in the Pine Hills school? The semester was almost over. Another to-do list branch. Call Austin’s school in Dublin, see what they suggested.
Her mind veered to what Cole had said. Having a job rather than a trust fund would carry more weight with the courts. The income she was making from renting her condo when she’d decided to move to Pine Hills wasn’t much. She added check the want ads to her beanstalk.
She’d have to go to Thriftway, get some kid-friendly food. Take Bailey for a nice, long walk so he’d sleep while she was gone. Fill her gas tank.
A text from Cole interrupted her list-making.
Morning
Same to you, she texted back. Finish your homework?
Talked 2 dets when finish wall
Morgan read the message three times before she deciphered it. She wondered if Cole’s phone had a voice system so he could text in complete words, maybe even complete sentences. She wouldn’t be back from the airport when he got off work. She didn’t have a spare key—another item for her to-do list—so he couldn’t come while she was gone.
Let you know once we’re home. Or tomorrow? Did it matter if the sanding waited another day?
His thumbs up response said apparently it didn’t.
~
IT WAS AFTER SIX BY the time Morgan and Austin arrived at the house on Elm Street. The boy had been quiet on the drive, and Morgan hadn’t pressed. His entire world had been yanked out from under him. He hadn’t said a word about his mother. Would the school have a counselor, or somebody they could recommend?
“You live here?” he asked. “It looks like a haunted house.”
“I warned you, didn’t I? It’ll be rugged for a few days, but we’ll manage.”
She helped him with his borrowed luggage. Mrs. Slauson had provided a large bag and a carry-on. Plus, Austin had his backpack.
“Watch the second step,” she warned. Her wrists protested as she tried to lift the large bag, so she climbed one stair above the bag and dragged it up each step. “Did you bring everything you own?”
Austin shrugged. “Just about. Mrs. Slauson said to pack as much as possible in case I had to stay a long time.”
“Would you like that?” Morgan asked.
He shrugged. “Suppose so.”
Morgan slipped her key into the lock. “Here we go. I’m sure Bailey will be glad to have a new friend.”
Austin stepped aside. When she’d told him she had a dog, his eyes had gone dinner-plate wide. “Really?”
Maybe Bailey could provide fur therapy for Austin, too.
While Austin and Bailey were getting acquainted, Morgan called to let Cole know they were home, that he could finish the drywall. “From here on, everything between us has to be platonic. I’ve been reading up on what case workers will be looking for, and if it’s a single guardian situation, they look at possible hints of impropriety.”
“Can we still see each other? Like for dinner? In public?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Burger Hut? Austin’s pretty wiped out, but they have tables and chairs there.”
“Fifteen minutes?”
“More like twenty to thirty. We need to take Bailey for a walk. He’s been in his crate for hours.”
Morgan showed Austin the rest of the house, explaining their temporary sleeping arrangements, saying there was damage to the wall in what would be her bedroom. “Once your bed gets here, you can decide if you want this room or the one across the hall.”
Another shrug. “Okay.”
She knew how traumatized Austin must be, yet she’d hoped he’d have shown signs of being glad to be here.
What do you expect? He’s been pulled from everything he knows. Give him time.
The question was, how much time did she have?
~~~
AT BURGER HUT, COLE parked just as Morgan’s car pulled into the lot. He stood on the walkway, waiting for her to find a slot. He held back. Tonight, Cole knew, would be about Austin. He didn’t need to overwhelm the kid by doing what he wanted to do, which was rush up and put his arms around Morgan and give the kid an effusive welcome.
When Austin appeared, Cole took a moment to school his features. Morgan hadn’t mentioned he was black. Skin a few shades darker than Morgan’s. Why should it have come up? Ethnicity, political affiliations, and religion weren’t things Cole asked about when he met people. Or their sexual orientations. Things like that shouldn’t matter, but, as he also knew, too often they did. Pine Hills had its share of all varieties. Would Austin’s being black impact her chances of becoming his guardian?
Austin was small for twelve, on the skinny side. His gaze was focused on the sidewalk, his shoulders hunched. Feet clad in worn sneakers scuffed along the concrete.
Morgan approached, Austin hanging a pace behind. Cole waited for Morgan to make the introductions. Let her take the lead.
“Austin, this is my friend, Mr. Patton. He’s a police officer, and he’s also helping me fix up the house.”
Austin’s eyes grew wary.
Cole extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Austin. Welcome to Pine Hills.” Should he tell the kid to call him Cole? No, he’d wait and ask Morgan how she felt about it, since she hadn’t mentioned his first name. She might prefer the more formal arrangement. No hints of impropriety.
Austin took the proffered hand. “Pleased to meet you, Sir.” The words were polite, the tone was even, but the wariness in his eyes flowed through his hands.
Cole noticed the long, slender fingers, much like Morgan’s.
“Let’s go inside,” Morgan said. “Austin’s been on an airplane most of the day, and they don’t give you much food these days.”
“Not completely true. Peanuts or cookies?” Cole asked Austin, hoping to get a less rigid response.
A shy grin. “I got both. The flight attendants were nice.”
Cole held the door for the two of them, his gaze automatically sweeping the room. He stiffened when he saw his three suspects sitting in a booth, laughing and speaking in tones a little louder than socially acceptable in a restaurant—even for Burger Hut.
Morgan must have sensed his concern. “Something wrong?” she whispered.
“No.” He exhaled and smiled.
He found a table on the opposite side of the dining room, choosing a seat where he could watch both the door and the three boys.
They looked his way, and their demeanors did a quick shift. The laughter stopped, their voices dropped so their conversation was no longer audible to him. They leaned forward, heads together, as if formulating a plan.
Cole felt for the gun at the small of his back. His heart rate ratcheted a notch.
After placing their orders, Cole asked Austin what he thought of the Elm Street house.
He shrugged. “Miss Tate says it’ll get better once the furniture shows up and the repairs get going.” He shifted his gaze to Morgan. “Is there going to be a TV?”
“You think we need one?”
His face fell.
She punched his biceps. “Fifty-inch okay with you?”
His eyes popped. “Really?”
“You’ll have to help me learn how to use it,” she said. “All that techno stuff is too complicated for me. I’m old.”
“You are not.” Austin smiled, the first genuine one Cole had seen.
Their server arrived with the food, and Austin was too busy eating for the next fifteen minutes to be bothered with conversation. Cole shot Morgan a glance he hoped said I like him, then returned his gaze to the boys across the room. No question. They were keeping him on their radar, cutting their eyes his way. Were they looking at Austin, not him? They’d demonstrated prejudice against gays, of that Cole was certain. Did they have something against blacks as well?
Made no sense. They were on the high school football team, interacting with blacks on an almost daily basis. Cole knew the coach stood for no nonsense when it came to race. Players were judged on their game, not skin color.
No, Cole was sure they were focused on him, not Austin.
Morgan must have picked up on it. Unease rolled off her in almost palpable waves.
“You almost done?” she asked Austin, who was dunking each fry in ketchup, biting off a piece, and repeating the process. Three times per fry.
“Almost.” Austin dunked another fry.
One of the boys, from across the room, Sean Dennison, Cole recalled, slid out of the booth, wandered in the direction of their table, his gaze fixed on Cole.
Cole met his stare, kept his expression a hair on the neutral side of You don’t want to go there.
Under the table, Morgan gripped his thigh.
Sean smirked, then continued past the table toward the restrooms. The other two got up and waited for their cohort in the entryway.
Moments later, Sean swaggered past their table, bumping Cole’s empty soda glass. Sean grabbed for it, knocking it over, spilling the remaining ice cubes onto the table. He righted the glass. “Clumsy of me. I’m sorry.” Another smirk. “Officer Patton.”
Cole was sure the smile he gave Sean would freeze the river mid-summer.
Morgan had grabbed a napkin and was wiping down the table.
A server rushed over to help. “Can I get you another Dr. Pepper?” he asked.
“No harm done. Accidents happen,” Cole said. He shot the boy another deep freeze smile. “Once.”
Sean left, and Cole turned to Morgan and Austin. “Anyone up for dessert?”