that does to each person who knows about it.”
His cake had reached him via the hands of his uncle Sal. CJ found his fork and dove in. Only when he had a mouthful did he look at his brother, and as with both his father and Maryann, Graham’s face was inching toward that Baxter shade of red. But Graham caught himself quickly and released the breath he was holding in a long, quiet exhalation.
“Interesting idea,” the older brother said. “But hasn’t that one already been beaten to death?”
“Of course. Any writer will tell you there are no new stories. We’re all just plagiarizing each other now.”
Those who were still tuned in to the conversation, who had missed the tension hidden in the words, laughed at CJ’s seeming self-deprecation.
CJ thought that Graham might say more, but apparently he’d already said what needed saying. If the family had suspected— feared—that they were the model for CJ’s books, he’d given them something more to chew on now.
“Pop, did you hear that I cleaned out Jake Weidman last night?” CJ said, asking only because he’d learned through Rick that his father was a more than occasional guest at the game, and because it was another of his father’s haunts in which he’d insinuated himself.
“I heard you got lucky your first time,” George said. “Were dealt some cards that worked for you.”
The chocolate cake didn’t have an equal in CJ’s opinion, and he took another large bite. “Maybe a hand or two,” he said. “But after a while, Jake knew I had him. He even said as much.”
He could see that Richard had become interested at the mention of Jake’s name. CJ imagined it made Richard feel a bit queasy to hear that he was getting chummy with Jake, the superior to Richard’s boss.
“Harry Dalton was there too,” CJ added, chewing thoughtfully. He didn’t say anything more for several seconds, yet could see his father waiting. “Funny thing—he said he was looking to buy the lumber mill. Said something about you almost not making payroll last month?”
When George’s hand came down on the table, even CJ, who had been expecting something like it, jumped.
“Charles Jefferson Baxter, if you ever say anything like that about my business again, I’ll take you to the ground,” George said. His voice was low, but CJ, thanks to his childhood experience of learning to understand his father’s rages, knew just how angry he was. “You think you can come in here after seventeen years and shoot your mouth off, thinking you know better than we do? That’s not going to work. That’s not going to work at all.”
CJ knew he’d goad his father into some kind of reaction; he just hadn’t expected something so dramatic. He didn’t say anything, because he was certain that his father would try to make good on his threat. And while CJ doubted the man’s ability to carry it out by himself, these were his people, at his beck and call.
When George saw that CJ wasn’t going to say anything else, he threw his napkin on the table, got up and left, heading toward one of the house’s back rooms.
Now that he’d done it, CJ didn’t feel quite as pleased with himself, and while most of the dinner guests had seemed to favor his side in his little spats with Richard and Maryann, a quick review of faces suggested he’d since lost that support.
“Should have stopped while you were ahead,” Edward whispered.
Without another word CJ rose and exited the dining room. But rather than leave the place entirely, his feet guided him to the garage.
It was colder out here than it had been the last time CJ visited. He could even see his breath. The 853 beneath its tarp looked as if it had been tucked snugly into bed with a blanket. CJ rolled the tarp back until he’d liberated the car from front fender to driver’s seat. Resting his hands on the roof, he peered into the cab, wondering what it would feel like to take the car out on the road, to feel the straight-8 motor rumble beneath the hood.
It bothered him that Sal had never done that. Why own a beautiful car like this and never drive it? The realization that Sal had gone to his grave never knowing what it was like to let these horses run saddened him. He wondered what Sal had been afraid of.
“He loved that car like it was a woman,” Julie said.
CJ hadn’t heard her come