Page 54 of Deja New
Archer was sloooowly getting out of his chair, doubtless ready to slip unobtrusively—or sprint—out of the kitchen. His exit was foiled when Leah seized his sleeve and yanked him back down. Her dagger-eyes were eloquent:You said it. You stay and deal with the fallout.
“I. Um. Yeah. You. I’m sorry? Jack? It was delicious and I attach no qualifier to that. Also, I’m sorry.”
Jack just looked at him.
Archer shifted to full-on babble: “So very very sorry. Completely sorry. Just incredibly, very terribly sorry. It’s a wonderful meal, look! My plate! Totally clean!”
Jack walked over to the turtle table. Archer did his level best not to cringe. “You’re right,” he said, inspecting Archer’s plate. “That’s pretty clean.Allyour plates are pretty clean.” He gifted Angela and Leah with an approving smile. “So doing the dishes should be easy, doncha think?”
“I would be happy to do the dishes,” Archer replied at once. This was a duty that rotated between Drakes; today was Paul’s day. Paul, at least, would be delighted that Archer’s mouth hadonce again raced ahead of his brain. “So, so happy to help any way I can with the dishes.”
“Good.” Jack looked at Leah for a long moment. “Are you... I should have asked this before. Is there anything I should be making for you, for the baby? I went online earlier and read up on prenatal nutrition—”
“Which is why you’ve been filling me full of vitamin C and green smoothies and whole grains and yogurt,” Leah replied with a warm smile. “Among other things. That is kind of you, Jack. I’ve eaten better in the last week than I have in the last month. I have paid for meals in Paris that weren’t as good as one of your midday snacks. Thank you.”
Jack ducked his head, suddenly shy, and Angela was struck—again—by how young he was. “’S no trouble,” he mumbled, and then went back to the cookbooks.
“Your youngest cousin is terrifying,” Leah mock-whispered to Archer.
“He didn’t scare me one bit. Now for the love of God, give me all your dirty dishes so I can start my soapy amends.”
Leah looks better, Angela thought, watching the couple laugh. A little more rested, a little less pale. If anything, Jacky was the one who looked aggrieved and tired, and not just because of Archer’s ill-timed idiocy.
Angela slipped out of her seat and went to him. “Jacky-oh, are you okay?”
“Course.”
“Because you seem—”
“Aggravated because I’m surrounded by Visigoths?”
“Something like that.”Argh, too early. Can’t remember what a Visigoth is. Sounds bad, though.
“Haven’t been sleeping well.” This was a mutter directly intoMartha Stewart’s Cooking School, a hefty hardcover that could, if swung with enough force, kill a pony.
“For how long?”
A shrug.
A puberty thing? A stress thing? He doesn’t study but he still gets A’s and B’s. I don’t think it’s school. Which means it’s probably us.
“Do you—did you want to see a doctor? I’d be glad to make an appointment for you.” He’d just gotten his license, so she added what she hoped would be an incentive to health maintenance. “You could borrow my car and hit DQ after, if you wanted. I would only ask that you bring me a banana split Blizzard. And maybe a Dilly Bar.”
That earned her a faded smile, nothing like his usual wide grin. “You don’t have to take care of me, Angela. I’m fine. You’ve got enough to worry about.”
“That’s not true, I can always take on more things to worry about. Worrying is practically my superpower.”
He shook his head. “I’m okay. Uh. That cop, Detective Chambers? He had to shelve Dad’s case, right?”
Is that what this is about?“Yeah, Jack, I’m afraid so. That’s why he was over here the other night—he came to warn me it was likely, and yesterday he left me a voicemail to confirm.”That I definitely haven’t listened to two or three or ten times.“I hope I didn’t get your hopes up.”
“I didn’t think that about you,” he said quickly.
“I thought if we had a new investigator, and Leah, that the case might be— Well, it was a long shot. But I hope you understand why I thought it was worth trying.” At his nod, she added,“And don’t worry, I’m not giving up. And Jason—the detective—he’s going to keep me in the loop. If anything breaks, he’ll let us know right away. It won’t be like—”
“Klown.” Jack smiled again, a real one this time.
“No, he’s not like Klown.” Damn. That was going to stick now. She hoped none of them ever ran across Kline again, particularly in public, because that would get awkward in a hurry.
