When Lightning Strikes Twice (7 page)

“He’ll have to!” Sarah dumped the toddler into Rachel’s arms. “I’ll go after Austin. Thanks, Rachel.” She took off down the street.

Brady stopped crying the moment he landed in Rachel’s arms. The two of them eyed each other tentatively.

“Hi,” he said, his lower lip quivering.

Rachel melted. He was only a baby! And she liked children; her little niece was one of her very favorite people. “Hi, Brady,” she said softly. “Do you want down? Do you want to walk?”

While that had definitely been his goal when restrained by Sarah, now Brady appeared to be reconsidering. He remained still as his little hand touched Rachel’s cheek, then he curled his fingers around the small gold stud she wore in her ear.

“Earring,” said Rachel.

“Ear-ring,” Brady repeated. “Lunch?” he added hopefully.

“You want to eat an earring for lunch?” Rachel launched into the type of nonsense game she played with her small niece. “I think I want a hamburger and french fries and a soda for lunch.”

Brady laughed appreciatively, catching the humor. Quick as lightning, he closed his teeth around Rachel’s earring. “Eat ear-ring for lunch.” He licked her ear like a puppy.

“I bet that tastes yucky,” Rachel said jovially, not minding the baby drool on her ear and neck.

“Yucky!” Brady sang out. He bounced up and down in her arms, beaming from ear to ear.

Rachel smiled, too. He really was an adorable child, as cute as her little niece, which was very cute indeed. He had thick blond hair, dark brown eyes, and a deep dimple in his left cheek. Rosy cheeks and tiny white teeth and a darling
smile. She felt ridiculously happy to be holding him and hoped that Sarah took her time confiscating Austin Cormack’s weapon.

“Do you want down?” she repeated the offer, remembering his earlier determined efforts to achieve freedom. “Do you want to walk?”

“No!” Brady settled himself more comfortably against her. “Carry me,” he ordered grandly.

“Yes sir. Whatever you say, sir.” She grinned at his two-year-old confidence. He’d expressed his wish and expected it to be fulfilled. And she was touched by the trust implicit in his toddler command. That she would take care of him. That he was safe with her.

She would, and he was.

Rachel carried Brady up the street, winding her way through the spectators, talking to him about the things around them. The trees, the flowers. A baby in a stroller. A cat sitting in the front window of a house. She was careful not to mention the fire or anything to do with it.

And then they came upon her car, parked along the curb just a few yards away. “That’s my car,” she told him, pointing at it.

The window was rolled down and she could see her keys dangling in the ignition. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to her how completely shaken the young policeman had been by Carla Cormack’s ambulance antics. One of Lakeview PD’s own officers had unwittingly extended an invitation to a potential car thief by leaving her car unlocked with the key handily available. Rachel imagined how ridiculous that particular stolen car report would read and murmured a silent thanks there was none to file.

Explaining her own willingness to simply hand over her car while she traipsed after Quinton Cormack wouldn’t have been easy either. She pictured Aunt Eve’s bemused expression and Wade’s droll one as she attempted to justify her uncharacteristic impulsivity to them. Thank heavens, no explanations or justifications were necessary to anyone!

Except herself, perhaps? Rachel blocked that thought.

“Blue car,” Brady said knowingly, as they reached her car.

“That’s right, Brady. My car is blue.” Rachel was impressed. He was only two and he already knew his colors? Her niece was three and still struggled with them.

“Ride in blue car?” Brady suggested.

Rachel stared at the grim scene down the street, which would probably become far worse. Sarah was right, a fire was no place for a two-year-old. Little Brady didn’t belong here, where he might see or hear something horrible that could traumatize him for life.

“I don’t have a car seat for you but I could buckle you up in the back.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking to Brady or speaking her thoughts aloud. “That would be safe if we drove someplace close for lunch, wouldn’t it?”

“Lunch!” exclaimed Brady, his face wreathed in ecstasty.

She couldn’t disappoint him now! Rachel glanced at her watch. It was past noon and the child was hungry. There really could be no harm in taking him to lunch.

“Okay, Brady, let’s have lunch.”

“H
ey, Sheely, it’s Thursday. You know what that means, Happy Hour at Riggin’s, two beers for the price of one. Meet you there at five-thirty?” Wade Saxon phoned to extend his usual weekly invitation to Dana Sheely.

“I can’t meet you there, Saxon.” Dana glanced at her watch. It was four-fifteen, rather early for Wade to be calling. Over an hour’s notice? He seldom made plans this far in advance. “Sorry.”

“So am I.” Wade heaved a resigned sigh. “Which one of your sibling pests borrowed your car this time?”

“Brendan, and he’s not a pest. He has football practice after school and a new girlfriend who needs a ride home from cheerleading practice.” Dana smiled. “A guy
has
to have wheels, y’know.”

“A direct quote from Brendan, no doubt, that weasely little moocher. Okay, I’ll pick you up at five-fifteen, Sheely.” He sounded vaguely martyred.

“And I didn’t even have to ask.” Dana chuckled. “You’re a real pal, Sax.”

“Don’t I know it. Be on time, Sheely. I don’t want to hang around that hellhole you call an office. It’s like being trapped in an erupting volcano every time a train goes by.”

“Why not try to see things from a different angle, Saxon? Every time a train goes by I pretend I’m on a thrill ride at Disney World. People pay those big park entrance
fees to experience what I can enjoy for free, twice an hour.”

“There’s that scary Sheely optimism rearing its nasty head again.” Wade groaned. “Try to keep it in check, huh, Sheel? See you later.”

He hung up before Dana could reply.

At five-thirty-five, they walked into Riggin’s, a popular sports bar in nearby Cherry Hill. The place was quiet and uncrowded as Dana followed Wade to their usual corner table. It offered the best view of a gigantic TV screen that was currently broadcasting a baseball game. Since the Phillies weren’t playing, Dana had no interest in watching.

A waitress immediately came to the table, and Wade waved away her offer of a menu and placed their order. The Happy Hour special, two beers for the price of one, and an order of Nachos Grande. Wade always paid for the first round, Dana paid for the next, and they split the cost of the nachos. Had the Phillies been playing, they might stay longer and divide the tab as need be. Thursday Happys at Riggin’s had become something of a ritual.

Dana slipped off her tan suit jacket and adjusted the cuffs of her pale blue blouse. She lifted her eyes to find Wade watching her instead of the TV screen, unusual behavior for him. Wade was an avid baseball fan; he didn’t limit his interest in the sport strictly to the home team, as she did.

She arched a questioning auburn brow. “Something wrong?”

“Was that John Pedersen I saw leaving your office building when I arrived to pick you up?” he asked, far too casually.

She knew him too well to be fooled by his display of faux indifference. And she knew him too well to lie to him. “Yes. Mr. Pedersen had an appointment with me about restructuring their company pension plan.”

“John Pedersen had an appointment with
you
?” Wade’s hazel eyes widened, and he made no attempt to hide his incredulity.

“I was assigned to the pension department when I
worked in Philadelphia, remember? It used to be my area of expertise.” Dana gave a weak smile. “Not anymore, though. Thank heavens Quint gives me all kinds of other cases to handle. Makes my job much more interesting since the ins and outs of pensions can be—well, dull.”

She shifted in her chair. The intensity of Wade’s gaze was making her uncomfortable. This was not a subject she’d wanted to discuss with him. Given their positions in rival law firms, she probably
shouldn’t
be discussing it with him. But stonewalling him felt all wrong.

“I’ve had several meetings with Pedersen, and we’re on the verge of finalizing their new plan,” she admitted.

“Congratulations, I think.” Wade drummed his fingers on the table. “Interesting that Pedersen would seek you out. Not that I doubt your talent, but you aren’t even a lawyer. If Pedersen was so keen on a new pension plan, Aunt Eve could’ve handled it. She has a respectable track record in almost every area of law.”

“Oh, yes, your aunt Eve is respected by everybody,” Dana was quick to agree. “I think she’s terrific.”

“Everybody thinks she’s terrific. So why did Pedersen call Cormack’s firm instead of Saxon Associates, who’ve always represented him and the Car Shoppe?”

“Because I’m a pension-paralegal-
wunderkind?”
Her smile invited him to share the joke on herself. When he didn’t, she sighed. “Look, Saxon, there is no big conspiracy. All I did was talk pension plans with Mr. Pedersen.”

“Which you didn’t see fit to mention to me.”

“No, I didn’t see fit to mention it to you.” She frowned at the accusation in his tone. “Don’t try to send me on a guilt trip over this, Saxon. I won’t go,” she warned.

“Have no fear, Sheely. Guilt trips are journeys I do not take or send others on.”

Wade was pleased that he sounded unconcerned, for he certainly wasn’t. To his consternation, he found himself more disturbed by her loyal silence to her employer than Pedersen’s possible defection from the Saxons’ firm to the Cormacks.

“But you can hardly blame me for wanting to know more. For instance, did Pedersen talk to Quint, too? About things other than this new pension plan?” Wade feigned a nonchalant smile.

So did Dana. “I believe I heard them discussing the Eagles’ quarterback controversy.”

“You’re cute when you’re being evasive, Sheely. You know I mean
legal
things.” He managed to sound downright jovial, which he was also far from feeling. Wade leaned forward, his eyes holding hers. “Is Pedersen planning to dump our firm and go with Cormack because Quint won the lawsuit against the Car Shoppe? Kind of a ‘if-they-beat-me-they-must-be-great’ mentality at work?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Dana broke their gaze, feeling guilty in spite of her vow not to. She wasn’t buying his air of insouciance. Any lawyer with half a brain would be bothered by the possibility of an important client taking his business elsewhere, and Wade Saxon had a very sharp mind.

Though he rarely used it to full advantage, she mused. Wade had it all—looks, brains, charm, and money—but he was a classic underachieves Things had always come so easily to him that he’d never developed either the will or the skill to apply himself wholeheartedly to anything. Unlike herself, who doggedly used both to succeed.

“How about taking an educated guess, Sheely? C’mon, spill. Is Pedersen going to bolt?”

The waitress arrived with their beers. Grateful for the interruption, Dana took several big gulps.

But the reprieve was only temporary.

“You’re guzzling your beer, Sheely. A radical departure, since you’re an expert in the art of nursing a drink,” Wade said wryly. “And you keep dodging my questions. Makes me think that something really is up with Pedersen. Wait’ll Rachel hears that.” He wrapped his hands around his frosted beer mug, but left it in place on the table. “It won’t be a pretty scene. She’ll probably call for Cormack’s head on a spike.”

Dana shuddered and took another long swallow of beer. “Gee, I’m hungry. I hope those nachos get here soon.”

“Real subtle change of subject, Sheely.”

“It’s the best I could do right now. No, wait, here’s something better.” She brightened a little. “Speaking of your cousin Rachel, you’ll never guess who she spent the afternoon with.”

“You’re probably right, Sheely. I’ll never guess who Rachel spent the afternoon with.” To Dana’s relief, he allowed her diversion to proceed. “I only know she left the office this morning and never returned.”

“My sister Sarah called around one with the news that Rachel was baby-sitting Brady, Quint’s baby boy. Rachel told Sarah she’d be glad to keep Brady for the rest of the day so Sarah took the afternoon off. She and Matt planned to drive down to the shore.”

“I’m not even going to ask how Rachel ended up with Cormack’s kid,” Wade replied, deadpan.

Dana was all ready to tell him. “It’s a long, convoluted story, involving a fire, a BB gun, and little Dustin Cormack and his dog being unaccounted for. He was thought to be inside the burning building, but was found eating cookies at an elderly widow’s house down the street. Turns out the kindly old lady is hard of hearing and keeps her shades drawn, so she had no idea of all the commotion outside. She and Dustin and the dog were having a lovely visit. Meanwhile—”

“Sheely, have I ever told you that I hate long, convoluted stories, especially ones involving the Cormacks?”

“But—”

“Wow, look at that! Somebody actually got a hit in this game.” Wade’s attention was riveted to the TV screen, where a player was running to first base while the sparse crowd in the stands managed a few lackluster cheers. “It’s a miracle.”

“I get the hint. You’d rather watch a brain-numbing game than listen to my long, convoluted story.”

“Your powers of perception are truly amazing, Sheely.”

The waitress arrived with their nachos. Wade dug in. Dana merely stared at the plate, despite her earlier claim of hunger. Twisting her paper napkin with her fingers, she watched him eat.

“Sax, I—uh—have a little problem…. Well, I’m not sure if it’s a problem or not. Would you mind if I ran it by you?”

His eyes never wavered from the ballgame. “If you feel you must.”

“When Quint came back to the office shortly after two this afternoon I—didn’t mention Sarah’s call. I didn’t tell him that Rachel has Brady. He still doesn’t know.” She worriedly chewed on her lower lip. “Do you think I should’ve said something to him?”

“Do I think you should’ve mentioned that his nanny dumped his kid on his worst enemy and then took off for the shore? That’s a no-brainer, Sheely.”

“You’re no help at all, Saxon!”

He leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on her. “Let me make it easy for you, Sheely. If Sarah wasn’t your little sister, would you have seen fit to mention it?”

“It’s not like Rachel would hurt Brady or anything,” argued Dana. “In fact, Sarah raved about how smart and understanding and kind Rachel was at the fire today. She said it really helped having a sane presence among the crazed Cormacks.”

“I agree that the Cormacks are crazed. Quint seems to be the only one who isn’t, but learning that Rachel—who always acts like a certified headcase around him herself—has his kid might activate a previously undetected lunatic gene. I predict trouble ahead, Sheely.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dana snatched the plate and pulled it closer to her. “And stop hogging all the nachos.”

They sat in silence for a while, one that differed greatly from their usual companionable silences.

Dana was irritated that Wade had said exactly what she hadn’t wanted to hear—that she should have told Quint his little Brady was with Rachel Saxon. Even more annoying,
he’d cited the precise reason why she hadn’t said a word—because Sarah was her sister who loved and needed her job as Brady Cormack’s nanny. And dumping your toddler charge on your employer’s enemy and then taking off for an afternoon at the shore was not stellar nanny behavior.

Dana had a sickening feeling that Quint was going to be very angry, just like Wade predicted. She glared at him.
Some friend!
Instead of trying to alleviate her anxiety, he’d deliberately made it worse!

Wade pretended to be watching the game on the oversize TV screen, but he kept casting furtive glances at his friend. Dana Sheely was one of his best friends.
Or so he’d believed
, amended that cynical lawyer’s voice inside his head. As one of
her
best friends, he’d had no reservations discussing every aspect of the Pedersen case with her last year, yet she hadn’t bothered to mention that John Pedersen had become a new client of Cormack and Son.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that the Pedersens and their Car Shoppe were as good as gone as Saxon Associates’ clients. Seeking pension advice from Cormack’s firm would be the initial excuse; the notice that they were pulling the rest of their legal business from Saxon was the next inevitable step.

The vanquished Pedersen was eager to join forces with the victorious Cormack. It made sense in an alpha dog sort of way. Didn’t everybody love a winner?

But Rachel wasn’t going to see it that way. He was beginning to understand Rachel’s consuming aversion to Quinton Cormack, Wade decided fiercely. He was getting damn sick of hearing that name himself.

And he heard it a lot these days, especially when in the company of any Sheely. Wade chugged his beer with all the finesse of a fraternity pledge determined to win a drinking contest. Hell, Cormack might as well be related to the Sheelys; he had certainly become an integral fixture in their lives. Dana was his paralegal, Sarah was his nanny, Shawn took care of his lawn, and Mr. and Mrs. Sheely—Bob and
Mary Jean—revered the man who so gainfully employed so many of their offspring.

Wade scowled. It was stupid, immature, and territorial, but he was jealous of Quinton Cormack’s intrusion into the Sheely family. He considered the Sheelys
his
surrogate family. He’d discovered them years ago, back in high school, through his friendship with Tim, when they had both joined the town’s soccer team league. Neither cared much for the game, but they’d become immediate, lasting buddies.

Wade, the only son of bankers Hobart and Kathryn, whose house was quiet as a tomb and as orderly and well run as a bank, had been stunned by the constant activity and noise level at the Sheely home.
They had ten kids!
Everything about the family astonished him, fascinated him, and drew him in. He liked the hectic spirit of life in an impossibly large family, the sibling warfare and loyalty, the never-a-dull-moment madness.

Tim, for his part, relished the privacy and quietude found in the Saxon home. He considered not having to share a bedroom to be earthly nirvana, he marveled that one could actually put an item down and still find it in place minutes, even hours or days later.

As students, the two boys had been as different as their families. Wade coasted through Lakeview Academy, putting forth as little effort as possible. He was accepted at Carbury College—like they had a choice about admitting him, with his uncle Whit a tenured professor there!—and graduated after four fun-filled but academically undistinguished years, then went on to an unrenowned law school for three more years of student socializing. He’d passed the bar exam on his first try and then signed on with the family firm. As with Carbury College, his connections were everything. Aunt Eve and Rachel had no choice about taking him as a junior partner.