Page 97 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

“But do you?” Selma insisted.

Diedre and Rachelle were listening hard, as if waiting for Cissy’s answer too. “Yes, I do. It’s taken a while. I mean, marriage is…hard. But we have a son, and a home. Together.”

Selma seemed to take that in. “I just want to have him with me more. A home…Wow…Wouldn’t that be great?”

“You’ve got two homes,” Rachelle pointed out to Cissy. “Unless your real-estate friend gets her way and you sell your grandmother’s.”

Cissy shook her head. “That house was never really my home. I mean, yes, I did live there when I was younger, but it wasn’t a ‘home,’ if you know what I mean.”

“But what a cool house,” Diedre put in with surprising passion. “You got to live there. Lots of us never get that chance.”

“It wasn’t all that terrific,” Cissy disabused them. “We Cahills seem to have trouble in the happiness department.”

She left before the conversation could continue, always uncomfortable talking about her family. Stepping outside, she pulled on her shades, sliding them onto the bridge of her nose. The sun was bright, though it looked as if it were heading for a bank of clouds. It was a sheer delight after all the gray fog of the past few weeks. Cissy turned her face skyward and inhaled, some of her worry lifting with the change of weather.

She did trust Jack. She did. She loved him and felt safe with him, and that’s all that mattered.

And then she saw the unmarked car, its two officers shadowy within the interior, engine running, double-parked on a side street, facing her. So, they’d followed her to Joltz and would undoubtedly follow her to the lawyers’.

She hardly knew how to feel. Sure, it was protection, but geez…It sure felt like more than just surveillance…. Almost as if she were under suspicion….

Irritated, Cissy stalked to her car, threw open the door, climbed inside, and twisted the ignition. She pulled into traffic and watched as the car nosed into the street behind her, several cars back.

“Pain in the butt,” she muttered and wondered if maybe Paterno’s claim of protection was a cover for something else.

Jack wiped the remains of B.J.’s lunch from his face and got him out of his high chair and back on the ground, where he instantly started chasing Coco, who ran for the living room.

He cleaned up the kitchen, then collapsed the stroller and propped it against the wall. “Come on, Beej,” he called to his son, who followed Coco from room to room. “Let’s get to the park before the sun goes away.”

Beej’s running skills weren’t exactly causing Coco concern. The dog’s ears and tail were down, but she could easily keep ahead of his awkward chase.

Hearing Jack, Beej veered his way, grabbing his father’s leg to keep from falling.

Jack lifted him into one arm and grabbed the stroller with his free hand.

They were heading for the door when the front bell rang. “Tanya,” he said, remembering. He set Beej down and opened the door. But it wasn’t the nanny. It was his father.

“Dad?”

Jonathan lifted his hands at the surprised tone of his son’s voice. “Nothing’s wrong. I knew you’d moved back in, and you weren’t at the office, so I just stopped by.”

“You called the office?”

Jonathan leaned down to B.J., but he tore away in pursuit of Coco again.

“I was going to ask you to lunch,” Jonathan said casually.

“I already had tuna sandwiches with B.J. I’m babysitting while Cissy meets with the attorneys for Eugenia’s estate.”

“When’s she going to be back?”

“Couple hours.”

“What about Tanya?”

Jack gave his father a long look. “I can’t get away right now, Dad. What’s wrong?”

“Just wanted to see you. Is that a crime?”

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