“Of course. But I’m working tonight. I don’t see how I can get out of it. I’ve already imposed on the Petersons and my dad more than I should.”
“I know. I understand.” She stops the mixer and pulls the blob of dough onto the counter. “We’re both married to our jobs, aren’t we?”
“When you own your own business, that’s kind of how it is.”
The truth of the matter is that Ava and I both love what we do. I love tending bar, and she loves baking. Neither of us wants to stop, but the hours certainly don’t mesh well with each other.
“Can you spare an hour for dinner?” she asks.
“I’ll have to let you know. I’ll see if I can get someone to cover the bar for an hour while I’m gone.”
“I close at six. The bar doesn’t get hopping until around eight or nine, right?”
“Monday night? It’s usually earlier, baby. Sorry.”
She sighs. “Right. Monday Night Football.”
“Exactly.”
“I suppose I could come help you tend bar again,” she says, “but that won’t really give us time to talk.”
“No.”
“Damn.” She fiddles with her lip ring, making me crazy.
“You take as long as you need, Ava. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Last night you gave me what I needed, Brendan. And then, when you fell asleep, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You come first with me.” I give her a wink. “You came second and third last night as well.”
Ava blushes.
“Feel free to disturb me whenever you need to,” I continue.
She smiles. “You looked like a Greek god sleeping. Okay, more like an Irish god, if there’s such a thing.”
I smile. She’s so adorable, my Ava.
“I’ll see what I can do about tonight.” I lean forward and brush my lips across hers. “I’ll check in with you later and let you know.”
“Okay. Thanks, Brendan.”
“Anything for you. Anytime.”
I leave the bakery, walk the back way, and head to the bar.
Anytime, I said.
Those words weren’t truthful. Anytime would mean giving her an hour tonight like she asked. I need to find a way to make that happen.
I get to the bar, take the stairs to my apartment, where I change into a clean pair of jeans and a green-and-white striped button-down. I towel the dampness out of my hair, and then comb through it and tie it behind my neck in a low ponytail.
The copies of the Steel documents are still sitting out on my table from when Ava found them in my copy of Tom Sawyer.
Grandmother.
Wendy Madigan. Wendy Madigan, who had a child with Bradford Steel.
Jeremy Madigan, who my father bought this bar from so many years ago.
Ryan and Ruby Steel.
I don’t know what Ryan told his daughter yesterday, though I have a hunch. I believe Ryan Steel may be the child Bradford Steel had with Wendy. Perhaps she forced him to sign over all his property to Ryan, her son. Makes sense. But Ava hasn’t spoken to me about it, and I have to accept the fact that she may never speak to me about it. We said no more secrets, but this is big. This is the tower.
And if she chooses to keep it to herself, I have to be okay with that.
But still, I wonder…
What exactly is my family’s involvement in this? Why did my father and I get the same messages?
And why did Pat Lamone, as well?
I go downstairs to the bar and check the schedule. Laney and Johnny are both on tonight, which would be enough for a normal Monday night. Not a Monday night during football season, though.
But I need to be there for Ava. I made that promise to her.
I call my dad quickly.
“Hi, Brendan,” he says into my ear.
“Hey, Dad. You feel like getting out of the house tonight?”
“It’s football night, son.”
“Yeah, but the Broncos aren’t playing.”
“True enough.”
“I need to see Ava for about an hour when she shuts down the bakery at six. Could you cover me at the bar?”
“Your mother will be pissed. You know she likes to have dinner at six o’clock on the dot.”
“All right, Dad. Thanks, anyway.”
“This is important to you, isn’t it, Brendan?”
“It is, but I’ll deal.”
Dad chuckles. “If I tell your mother that her precious son needs a favor, she won’t give me too much crap.”
“So you’ll do it, then?”
“Yeah, Brendan. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Depending on how busy it is, I may stay a little longer after you get back from seeing Ava.”
“Why is that?”
“Because,” he says, “we need to talk. You and I.”
My heart drops to my stomach. “We do? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “At least I don’t think anything is wrong. But I found something. Something that may be relevant to all these things that we’re investigating.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I found an address for Lauren Wingdam.”
I wrinkle my forehead, thinking. Who is Lauren Wingdam again? “Right. Pat Lamone’s mother. Biological mother, that is.”
“Yes. The one he hasn’t been able to find.”
“How were you able to find her?” I ask.
“I called in a favor,” my father says.
I recognize his tone. Though I’m itching to know who helped him, my father has said all he’s going to say on that subject. I know him too well.
“All right. I should be back at the bar around seven. If it’s not too busy and Laney and Johnny are handling things, you and I can take some time to chat.”
“Good enough. I’ll be there about five forty-five.”
“Thanks again, Dad.”
I end the call and take a look at the bar.
Everything is clean and in its place.
If only life were like that.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ava
Luke approaches me at one thirty. “Aren’t you taking lunch, Ava?”
Normally I go earlier, but today? I need to keep busy. I don’t want to think.
I need to keep busy until tonight, when I spill everything to Brendan and ask for his help.
“No, not today.”
“You want me to fix you a sandwich that you can eat while you’re working?” he asks.
“Not hungry.”
“Okay. Is it okay if I take my normal one-thirty lunch?”
“Absolutely. Enjoy yourself.”
Maya and Luke only take half-hour lunches, although I give them an hour. They usually make themselves a sandwich and eat in the back.
“Take your whole hour today,” I say. “I’ll be here.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Luke smiles. “But I will take my lunch. A corned beef sandwich is calling my name. Don’t think I’m strange or anything, but I think I’m going to try it on that cranberry walnut bread you make.”
“Should be delicious,” I say.