3
Patience, Ian reminded himself, putting Gavin’s ignored breakfast plate in the microwave for his son to heat up and eat later. Tough if the kid didn’t like warmed-over scrambled eggs. He should get to the table sooner and not just grunt when his father called him.
And if Gavin didn’t like hanging around the house, as his heavy sighs suggested he didn’t, he shouldn’t have gotten himself suspended from school and subsequently grounded.
They were two days into Gavin’s post-hospital week at home, with a father-son meeting with the principal and the possibility of expulsion to look forward to on Friday. Ian had stayed home yesterday, and his boss, Charlie, was fine with him taking another day.
Would it be worth it? His talks with his son hadn’t exactly been illuminating so far, Gavin just giving grunts and monosyllabic answers to Ian’s questions.
Ian put his dishes in the dishwasher. After so long in the Navy, keeping his kitchen—and house—organized and shipshape was second nature. His phone rang, and the name on the screen had him grabbing the device in a second. Sofia.
He pressed accept. “Hey there.”
“Ian, I figured out what was in the marijuana that Gavin smoked, and we need to talk about it.”
“Not now.” He might no longer be a SEAL, but he still had a chain of command. “The firm’s handling this”—he’d discussed it with Charlie—“so let’s meet there.” He gave her the address of Bronte Security Services in National City. “When could you come in?”
“I’ve got a free double period now—I can get there soon, if that works.”
“Perfect.”
It wasn’t that he was looking for an excuse to get out of the house, Ian told himself, hammering on his son’s door, then opening it to tell him he had to go in to the office.
Gavin’s sulky “It’s all right for you to go wherever you want, huh?” was still rattling around Ian’s brain as he drove. He’d given his son some leeway, yes, but that rudeness was one strike against him. Patience, Ian told himself again. How did Allison do this without tearing her hair out? How did Sofia do this with a whole class of teenagers? He couldn’t ask her for tips. That would mean admitting he was failing.
A Honda pulled into the shared lot on 30th Street just as Ian got to the entrance of their office, one of the buildings there. He turned to watch it park and to see Sofia get out. Just as she had at every encounter between them, she took his breath away. He hadn’t imagined it—the woman was a knockout.
“Hi,” she called, catching him up. “How’s Gavin? Is he doing okay?”
“Hi.” Ian scanned her. Her face looked drawn and she had shadows under her eyes. He bet she worried about all her kids in general, and more about Gavin at this time. “He’s fine physically, thank God, but not happy at being grounded for a week.”
“I bet.”
He held the door of the low, square building open for Sofia and guided her to their suite, where their secretary, Rosa, sat at her desk in the reception area she guarded.
“Rosa, this is Ms. Sofia Popov. She’s here for an appointment with me. It isn’t on the schedule,” he added quickly, to avoid the efficient woman turned to the computer frowning, thinking she’d lapsed. “But could you tell Charlie and Eric that Sofia is here with me?”
“Right away, Mr. Campbell.” She passed the visitors’ sign-in sheet over to Sofia, along with a pen. When Sofia had filled it in, Rosa checked that Sofia had copied down her ID details correctly and only then handed over a visitor pass.
“Please keep this on you and visible at all times,” she instructed Sofia.
“No, she wasn’t in the Navy with us,” Ian whispered once they were far enough along the corridor to be out of earshot.
“I was thinking she was a former school administrator,” Sofia whispered back. “And that Southwest High School would snap her up in a second if she wanted to go back to it.”
“We wouldn’t part with her for anything,” Ian informed her. Rosa was invaluable.
He shut the door behind them in his office. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, watching Sofia gaze around. Her hair was bundled onto the back of her head today, like she’d wrapped her ponytail into a coil, and that, along with her pants suit, gave her a more formal appearance. But he knew firsthand what was beneath the tailored clothing. “A coffee?”
“No.” Her answer came quickly. “Water’s fine. Thank you.” She took the cup he filled for her from the jug of filtered water on the corner stand and sat.
“Before you tell me your findings, may I tell you what I’ve learned?” Ian asked. “It might have a bearing.”
“Please.”
“Gavin told me”—reluctantly and with a lot of grumbling, but he had finallyadmitted it—“that he got some weed for a party I didn’t allow him to go to in the end. We have a deal about his math grade.” And Gavin hadn’t kept his end of the bargain. “When he finally used the joint, it was because he was having a bad day at school.”
“He failed a make-up math test. When he was told, he slammed his fist on the desk and kicked over his chair—which resulted in him getting detention.” Sofia nodded.