“It’s okay.” I stood, savoring the chill in the air as the wind kicked up. “I’d rather he treat me like he did just now. I can help him a lot more if I’m not dodging bullets.”
“He’s pretty hit-or-miss these days, not going to lie. Half the time I’m up here, he knows who I am but might confuse what year it is, like you just saw.”
“And the other half?”
“Those days are tougher. If you’d told me a decade ago that Arthur Daniels would lose his mind to early-onset Alzheimer’s, I would have laughed you off the mountain. Not as stubborn and strong-willed as he is.”
There was a lot about this last decade I wouldn’t have believed. Losing Sullivan was at the top of that list.
“How’s Simon?” I asked, trying to remember my manners and change the subject at the same time.
Walt grinned. “That boy is something else. He’s practicing family law in Buena Vista now.”
“That’s great. You have a lot to be proud of.” Simon had always been one of the straight shooters, from what I remembered.
“You do, too, Cam. I mean that. It took a lot to come back here.”
I nodded and lifted my notebook. “I guess I’ll get on this. Or at least what he’ll let me do.”
“Do you need anything? I doubt your dad or Alexander asked.”
“I’m okay up at Cal’s. Or I guess it’s not Cal’s anymore. It’s mine.” Not that it hadn’t always felt like more of a home than this one, but it was weird without Cal there.
“Okay, well, if you change your mind or if you need a job or anything, just let me know. This town isn’t always the easiest to come back to. Believe me, I know.” He stood, tucking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans.
“Thank you for the offer.” I had pretty good savings, so I wasn’t worried just yet. But I appreciated it, knowing the fine people of Alba wouldn’t support Walter offering me a job at the Rowan Inn, given that it was the largest hotel in Alba. Then again, there weren’t a lot of job openings for a civil engineer around here.
“And you should come to the Historical Society meeting next week,” he urged. “I know you didn’t have any interest when you were younger, and of course Alexander has been exercising your dad’s vote, but nothing reminds Alba that you’re a local more than showing up to a Historical meeting. Just a thought.”
Xander exercised Dad’s vote? What else did he take care of?
I was taking a risk, opening my mouth, but Walter was Dad’s best friend and had been since they were kids, so he’d find out eventually anyway.
“Does Xander oversee Dad’s medical care, too?”
The skin between his eyebrows puckered. “Yes. He holds his medical power of attorney. Why?”
“Just trying to get the lay of the land. Plus, I have a couple questions.” My thumb rubbed over the canvas spine of my notebook.
“Alexander takes him to all his appointments, but now that you’re home, I’m sure he’d be happy to share that duty with you. Might free up his time. You are home, right? For good?”
“Seems like it. I can’t really help him if I’m not here, whether he wants me or not.”
“Fair enough.” He glanced at my tattooed arms, bare to the elbow from where I’d pushed up the sleeves of my shirt. “One word of advice?”
I didn’t answer, and I didn’t have to. Walter was going to give it to me even if I didn’t want it.
“I know I’m not your dad or even your uncle, but let’s pretend you give a damn what I think. Keep out of trouble, Camden.” If his voice hadn’t been so soft, I would have scoffed.
My muscles stiffened, but I held his stare as he continued.
“I know you’re a good man, not because of who you were as a teen but because that reckless boy grew into the man who came back when his family called. You knew what you were walking into, given what happened when you were here last, and that speaks volumes to your character—to who you are now. But some people in town, namely ones named Hall, aren’t going to give you a fair shake. He’s still counting every mark you’d racked up from a decade ago, if what he was saying this morning at Earl’s was any indication. He’s looking for the first reason to lock you up or throw you out.”
The warning was oddly touching, even though my inner teenager wanted to throw it back in his face and tell him to mind his own business.
“You all still meet up at Earl’s?” That old barbershop was on the receiving end of more gossip than Ivy’s Salon.
“Haven’t you noticed that nothing changes around here?” He grinned.
“Yeah, I’m beginning to catch on.” I started down the steps and turned as I reached the hood of the Jeep. “And thank you. I appreciate the warning.”
His eyebrows rose a fraction. “You’re welcome. And if you need anything, you know where to find me. Just don’t make me post bail, okay?” His lips quirked up in a failed attempt to keep a straight face.
“Hey, that was only once. Twice, if you count the time—”
“I do. Everyone does. It’s good to see you, Camden.”
My lips pressed into a line, and I offered a nod. Then I got the hell out of there.
…
“When I said ‘let’s get together,’ I didn’t mean it had to be tonight or at the bar,” I said to Xander as we held down the back-corner table at Mother Lode, Alba’s only bar, a few days later. “It’s Saturday night. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang with your little brother.”
Xander leaned back in his seat and loosened his tie, his suit coat already draped across the back of the chair. “I haven’t seen you in years. Of course I’m going to jump at the chance to have dinner with you twice in a week.”
“You could have jumped at Bigg’s,” I offered. “Man, I’ve missed those burgers.”
“We can grab them tomorrow if you want. It’s not like we’re on a time line anymore, right?”
“Right.” Because I was never leaving this little slice of anachronism. “Are you sure you can hang at the bar, Mr. Mayor?” I looked out from the corner and noted at least twenty people, all doing their best not to look like they were staring at us.
One of those people was Tim Hall, who didn’t bother hiding his glare. At least the jukebox blared a rotating selection of eighties rock, keeping the bar loud enough that our words weren’t fodder for gossip.
Xander laughed, drawing even more eyes. “It’s not like I’m the mayor of New York City. Besides, it makes me approachable. At least that’s what I tell myself.”