Jennifer Greene - Trouble in Paradise

Sheila let out a strangled sound when Griff dialed the police. “For God’s sake, there’s no need for that. It’ll be in all the papers-”

Griff held the receiver to his shoulder. “They need to know what he was wearing Friday morning,” he said coldly, his eyes like gun metal. At his ex-wife’s look of bewilderment, he made a strangled sound of disgust and held the receiver to his ear again. “Probably jeans. We don’t know. I do know the make of his car and the license number.”

There were no more calls after that. Silence flooded the kitchen like a threatening stranger, and fear touched all of them in very different, lonely ways. Susan knew Griff too well. For a few minutes, he’d been busy making telephone calls. Now he could do nothing but wait. Taking charge came easily to him; sitting helpless was a form of torture.

She placed before him the sandwich that she knew he wouldn’t touch, and pressed her palm to his shoulder, letting it linger there. His eyes met hers, just for a second, bleak with anguish, almost unseeing. He covered her hand with his, but his gaze moved past her to his ex-wife again. “You didn’t see Tom Friday night, you said you were out. But even if he skipped school, he might have gone back home that night. You must have checked his bed when you did come in.”

“Actually, I didn’t exactly-” Sheila bit back the rest of the sentence. No one could have missed the way Griff’s jaw locked. She stood up jerkily, her dark eyes darting in his direction. “You can have custody of the damn kids,” she shot out wildly. “I don’t care! I just don’t care anymore. You think it’s some kind of crime that I need to lead my own life. You always did. It’s not as if they’re not old enough to spend the night alone on occasion.”

As if in slow motion, Griff unbent from his leaning position against the wall by the phone and raked a hand through his hair. His eyes met Susan’s again, hers just waiting to pour out a stream of silent communication. Easy, Griff. She’s hysterical, you must see it. Don’t say anything that…

He understood. More than she knew, Griff understood. He was well aware that Susan hated the sound of bitter, harsh words. Her fingers were trembling violently, his Susan who always acted out of gentleness and compassion and who loved that in him…but Susan had had no experience with women like Sheila.

She was confused and unhappy over his treatment of his ex-wife; he would have liked to offer Susan an apology for that, but he couldn’t. What he did do was reach out and very gently smooth back the tousled hair from her cheeks. A chair scraped behind them. Griff’s hand didn’t falter. His voice was gentle, directed at Susan alone. “I’ll be back, honey. Just…be here.”

“Griff-”

“The police may call back. They’ll check the hospitals and runaway centers. Beyond that, there’s nothing anyone can do. Susan…” He hesitated only a moment. “Stay here.”

He didn’t give her time to nod her automatic agreement before striding past her into the hall to grab a corduroy jacket.

“Griff? Where are you going?” Sheila demanded, taking a step toward his retreating form. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

Griff strode back into the kitchen only long enough to button his coat, staring impassively at his ex-wife. “I’m going to find my son. And as for what you said about custody, Sheila, you didn’t need to bother. You and I both knew already that after tonight the kids were coming here. To stay. With or without the approval of a court of law.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“I won’t need to. Between your questionable morals and your flat-out neglect of our children, there’ll be no problem with the courts. It won’t take two weeks to hustle this one through the judicial system. I guarantee it.”

The door slammed behind him with a little echo.

Sheila stared after him openmouthed; then her lips pressed together as her eyes darted to Susan. Susan’s throat went suddenly dry. Griff was gone… Well, she was too perceptive not to understand that he was totally preoccupied with Tom, and that his mind would be working at a thousand rpm. Griff would never sit still and just wait for the police to do his job. He would visit Tom’s friends, go to the places Tom frequented in his free time.

Somehow, though, it was one of those times when she expected him to be superhuman. It was terribly unfair, but she simply did not want to be left alone with Sheila.

Sheila laughed suddenly, a mirthless sound, and turned away to pick up her purse from the floor. “He’ll find him. Don’t doubt it, honey. The kids do come first with him, don’t they?” She stood up, smoothing back her hair, her hands nervously fluttering. “When he divorced me-but then I expect you know all about that-I fought like a viper for those kids, and you know why, don’t you?” Sheila violently nodded. “You know why.”

“Sheila…” Susan groped for something to say. “Griff is upset. I know you are, too. If you would feel better staying here, at least until the police call back-”

“I fought for the kids because I still loved him. Then. I knew that if the kids stayed with me, I’d still see a lot of Griff. The only thing he ever really wanted from me was to be a mother to those kids. I thought I still needed him then, but I was wrong.” She swung toward the door with her head held high. “There are plenty of men around. Plenty of them. You’re welcome to Griff, honey. You seem like the perfect little mother. You’ll have no more problems from me… Not that I won’t fight for a decent settlement when we hit the courts again. Griff and Sheila and courts are a familiar threesome.”

The door slammed a second time. Susan had a curious urge to open the door and slam it a third time, just so she would have her own chance. Sheila had still loved Griff after the divorce. Susan understood Sheila’s game. Part of her indifference toward the children had always been a red flag to Griff, a signal that she needed his help. He was hopelessly caught in the complexities of her manipulations, trapped between his love for his children and his unwillingness to promote any involvement with his ex-wife. It was all so complicated…

But Sheila had apparently thrown in the towel, finally. Griff’s last threat to his ex-wife echoed in Susan’s head. In two weeks, he would have the children… A heated statement in the middle of an argument didn’t ensure that he would get custody, but Susan knew from the look on Griff’s face that the court system would be wise to work at Griff’s speed. She thought fleetingly of how desperately uncertain she’d felt of Griff’s love only a few days ago as she had tried to deal with Tiger and Barbara. The weekend with him had dissolved some of her insecurities, but she and Griff had been alone then, with no worries and no tensions. If the children came to live with them, they would rarely be alone anymore. Sheila had said it… Griff’s children came first with him.

Her thoughts turned to Tom, a seventeen-year-old boy gone missing, and her heart lurched in anguish. Griff had to find him. At this moment, that was the only thing that mattered.

Yet it was two more days before they heard anything more of Tom, a Tuesday Susan was never likely to forget.

Susan carefully balanced the boxful of books in her arms, aimed a hip in the general direction of her office door, and pushed. The door didn’t budge. Blowing a wisp of hair from her face, she tried to readjust the heavy armload of books and turn the doorknob at the same time. One book and then another tumbled from the top of the overstuffed box, and the whole armful tilted wildly when the door opened easily from the other side.

Lanna’s wide-eyed stare said it all. “Don’t ask for help, whatever you do.”

“I certainly won’t,” Susan agreed.

“I’m only the hired help. The assistant you pay to file her nails when we fail to get any big rush of customers on a Tuesday morning.” Lanna lifted the heavy box from Susan’s arms and headed toward their back stockroom. Susan followed, kneading the strain from the small of her back with her knuckles.

“You weigh less than I do,” Susan protested.

“So hire us a man. Or let me do the heavy work and lower the rent on my apartment upstairs.”

Susan motioned to the shelf where she wanted the box, but Lanna’s look said she already knew that. During the next few minutes, they catalogued still more cartons of books, wheeled them back into the shop on a dolly cart and began to shelve them. The two women exchanged a grin. Two years earlier, Lanna had walked into the store looking for a job; she’d been all of twenty-one, with a bubbly smile and not a goal on earth. At this point, she knew as much about the running of a bookstore as Susan did, and her own shop was clearly pictured in her mind…the shop she would have in a year or two. Professional distance hadn’t lasted long. Which made it easy for Susan to say, “I was thinking of raising the rent, actually.” Her tone was carefully neutral. “I mean since there are two of you up there now, I should get double the rent, right?”

Lanna turned a not totally unattractive pink, in keeping with her flaming hair and freckles. “He’s not living there. At the moment he just thinks he is.” She added brightly, “My mother’s coming to visit next week.”

“That’s nice. He’s adorable,” Susan added, and watched Lanna’s pink face turn crimson.

“He is,” Lanna agreed. “That’s just the problem. Pursue that one, Susan, and I’ll probably lose my job by telling my favorite employer to mind her own business.”

“Don’t risk that,” Susan advised.

“So what do you think I should do?” Lanna demanded promptly, and they both chuckled.

“Sow all the oats you want to until your mother arrives,” Susan suggested blandly. “Who cares that he doesn’t have a job? That he doesn’t have any permanent future to offer you? That if he moves in with you, you’re the one who will pay the rent and-”