Fortunate Harbor - By Emilie Richards Page 0,179

to do with them. She hadn’t given the envelope to him at the rec center, because that would have been a clear sign of favoritism. She’d considered mailing it, but since he was only five minutes away, that seemed silly. She’d considered dropping it off on the porch in the wee hours of morning, but that seemed cowardly.

Now she debated. Finally she went back into the house for the gift, as well as the envelope containing the booklet on identity theft that Marsh had left for her. Two excuses seemed best.

Back outside, she turned over the envelope to make sure the booklet was inside. The booklet slid out, and from its folds, so did something else. An envelope had lodged inside, only she’d never opened the booklet, so she hadn’t realized it.

She tore it open and read the note. She left the booklet on the table, put the colorful envelope with the coupons on the front passenger seat of her Bimmer and decided she would drop it off on the way out of town. Maybe seeing Marsh would be awkward, but this was about Bay. And she wanted Bay to know she cared.

By the time she drove up to the old Cracker house, the party was just getting started. She figured that was good. With the ruckus, she could avoid Marsh, grab Bay, press the envelope into his hand and a kiss on top of his head, and leave. Surely something would turn out well this summer, and she hoped this would be it.

Parents in gas guzzlers and hybrids were disgorging a multitude of boys into the melee, and she had to wait until a parking spot was freed up in order to get out. She could smell charcoal heating and something smoking on the grill. She guessed hot dogs and hamburgers, and wondered how much luck Marsh would have getting the kids to eat anything green to go along with them.

She spotted Bay, but it took a moment for him to see her. She’d expected to grab him as he ran past, pursued or in pursuit, and she hadn’t expected much of a welcome, considering the competition.

Instead he ran full tilt toward her, and when she held out her arms, he threw his compact body into them, hugged her hard and didn’t let go.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his sweaty hair. “Well, buddy, happy, happy birthday. I brought you a present. I’ll put it inside.”

“You’re going to stay?” He looked up, and his eyes shone like bright pennies. “You came to help my dad?”

She didn’t know what to say. Everything the kid was feeling was right there in his eyes. Hope, despair, understanding, anger. And what could she do about any of it?

She lifted her gaze to the porch and realized Marsh was standing there—instincts honed, she supposed, to protect his son from yet another untrustworthy, marauding female with no maternal instinct. His expression was veiled, but he gave the briefest of nods.

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked Bay, turning her attention back to the birthday boy. “Because I know a couple of games you guys will love when everybody settles down.”

“Will you? Please?”

She ruffled his hair, longer than it had been at the beginning of summer. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Then she ruffled it again. “Darn right. That’s exactly why I came, kiddo.”

She took a minute to call Henrietta and give her regrets. Henrietta told her to come tomorrow, but the older woman promised there would be other parties if Tracy couldn’t make this one.

Tracy avoided Marsh, but definitely not Bay. She organized an impromptu egg toss and a pillowcase sack race. After they’d eaten and calmed down a little, she taught the boys to play Killer, and watched them die in helpless, hysterical agony whenever the secret “killer” caught their eye and winked at them. She took her turn at Guitar Hero and wowed everybody but Bay, who was better than just about anybody in the world.

As the afternoon wound to a close, she cleaned up, removing plates and glasses, starting the dishwasher at one point, because, of course, no party at the Egan house would include anything as heinous as paper products. She helped serve gargantuan slices of cake and dished up mounds of ice cream.

The boys left one by one, full, happy, still talking about their rides in the Egan canoe. They’d spotted a garter snake, climbed one of the live oaks, jumped on a rental trampoline. Tracy

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