Richard nodded and went back into the kitchen, where he poured the coffee he hadn’t wanted anyway down the sink. If Trevor went upstairs, it was soundlessly. The picture of him still standing there, not moving, was disturbing. I have to let him come to me. Yeah, what are the odds of that? his more cynical side asked.
Richard went about setting up the coffeemaker for morning. When he turned off the lights, he found the downstairs deserted. Trevor’s bedroom door was shut, as it always was, but a light showed in the crack beneath it. Richard stopped, wanting to knock, wanting to say only, “Are you okay?” but knowing there was no point.
He has to come to me.
True but unlikely.
* * *
HE WENT OUT ON SOME SMALL jobs the next day, the kind he wouldn’t usually do but that didn’t require his full attention. He wired a new garage, replaced some outlets in a house dating from the early sixties and finally went out and checked up on a bigger job, one he had two of the guys working on. They were both standing outside smoking when he arrived and ground out their cigarettes the minute they saw him, expressions wary. He didn’t say anything about it, though. If the work was moving slower than he thought it should be, then he’d say something. Otherwise, they were entitled to breaks. Unless he watched them all day through binoculars, he couldn’t know if they were taking too many. He could only judge on the quality of the work.
“Hey, boss,” one of them said, and it struck Richard that the guy couldn’t be more than twenty. Yeah, he’d come to work for him right out of high school. Was this what he wanted to be doing? The pay was pretty damn good, but maybe he’d had other dreams. Probably not. I’m tarring him with my brush. Jeez, he’s probably making twice as much an hour as his high school buddies.
Richard had actually thought of asking whether Trevor wanted to work for him this past summer, but the Boys & Girls Club job had kept his own offer unspoken. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, anyway. The last thing he wanted was for his son to come to work for him. Ward & Son Electrical? He hadn’t seen any choice in his day. He’d known he was lucky to have such a good paying fallback. Thanks to his dad, he and Alexa had done okay. After the divorce, he’d been able to pay decent child support.
He wanted better for Trevor. Then, irritated at himself, he thought, no, not better. Damn it, Richard was proud of what he’d done with Ward Electrical, which had been his old man alone until Richard joined him. Now, with Dad retired in Arizona, Richard employed nine men and one woman as electricians as well as a receptionist and a half-time bookkeeper. The most respected and one of the largest in the tricounty area, his electrical contracting business did grocery stores, malls, schools as well as housing developments. He still did some hands-on work himself, but not much. Mostly he was in the office now.
What he’d wanted was to be an engineer. He’d dreamed of giant dams and bridges, not light switches. To satisfy himself, in the empty years after Lexa left with the children, he had gone back to school and worked his butt off on top of the job to get a degree in civil engineering with a specialty in structural engineering, but he knew he’d never use it. What sense did it make to walk away from a successful business to start all over working for someone else? None, of course. Mostly, he was satisfied because he had the degree and now he knew that what he did for a living was his choice.
To his surprise, Trevor was home before him. Richard had gone wearily to the kitchen to think about what they’d have for dinner when Trevor spoke up behind him.
“We could order a pizza or something.”
Wonder of wonders. Richard schooled his expression before he turned. “Why don’t we go out?”
Trevor shuffled from foot to foot. “Uh, yeah, okay.”
Richard had a favorite pizza parlor that on a Tuesday night was likely to be quiet. During the short drive, he glanced at Trev. “You get a chance to talk to Caitlyn today?”
“Yeah, well, I tried, but when I appeared, she disappeared.”
Richard only nodded.
“I guess that’s justice, huh?”
What? Is the real Trevor Ward alive and well after all?
“That’s probably how she sees it,” Richard said neutrally.
Trevor scowled out the window.
In the restaurant, they ordered, then carried their pitcher of cola back to the table. “How come you never drink?” Trevor asked, surprising him.
Richard slid in on one side of the booth. “I have a beer once in a while, a glass of wine if friends serve it at dinner.”
“Yeah, but you don’t usually.”
Funny the subject had never come up before. “Your grandfather was a heavy drinker. Probably still is. Walked in the door and went straight to the fridge for his beer. He had at least a six-pack every night. Yelled at your grandmother if she’d forgotten to buy some and then he’d go right out to the store. I didn’t like it.”