Nancy Warren - Aftershocks

“That’s funny,” she said. “I’m beginning to feel the same way about you.”

AFTER SATURDAY’S awkward lunch, where she and her uncle tried to be pleasant to each other for her aunt’s sake, Briana was looking forward to a long Sunday drive on her own.

She’d promised she’d help her uncle restore his good reputation. He wanted to do that by bringing down his rival. She much preferred finding out who’d maligned her uncle in that vicious newspaper report. Today, she hoped to get a step closer.

As she drove up the highway, she tossed around ideas on how to approach the retired officer. In the end, she decided to tell as much of the truth as she could. She’d be up front about the fact that she worked for the mayor and would explain that she was researching the old charges in hopes of exonerating the long serving councilor. With time running out before a showdown between Patrick and Cecil Thomson, Briana was determined to get to the truth.

When she reached the tidy community of small bungalows, she found the Carlton home with no trouble. As she pulled to the curb, she noted that all the drapes were drawn and the newspaper sitting on the front step.

Maybe they were out for the afternoon?

She got out of her car and headed up the path, but as she rang the front doorbell and listened to it echo, a voice said behind her, “They’re not home.”

Briana turned to find an older woman in a sun visor, plaid shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt regarding her with mild suspicion.

“Oh. I drove up from Courage Bay to see Mr. Carlton on business. Will he be home this afternoon, do you think?”

“Nope. Not till the middle of the week. They’re on a cruise for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. You want to leave a note?”

Briana smiled and shook her head. “I was hoping to talk to him in person. But it can wait. Thank you for your trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. We look out for each other in this neighborhood.”

MONDAY MORNING, Patrick handed Briana a small envelope.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s from Dylan.”

She wasn’t surprised. Dylan now contacted her every day, either by phone or by sending her a new piece of art for her bulletin board. She was falling for him almost as badly as she had fallen for his dad.

Inside the envelope was a single card with space aliens on it and several lines printed in Dylan’s own hand. It took her a moment to realize what it was. “Oh, a birthday party invitation.”

“That’s right. Dylan wanted to invite you to his party.”

She glanced up at Patrick. They’d been so careful this past week to keep their distance, and though she couldn’t bring herself to discourage Dylan’s calls, she hadn’t made another trip to the O’Shea house. She hadn’t intended to until she knew the truth about the false charges against her uncle. She’d been fairly certain Patrick would give her the month he’d promised, but she hadn’t counted on his son being the one to invite her back to their home.

“Did you know about this?”

“Sure.” Patrick was noncommittal. He could love the idea or hate it-it was impossible to tell. So she asked him.

“How do you feel about this?”

“It’s Dylan’s birthday party. He can invite anyone he wants.”

Okay, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with his feelings.

She hesitated, tapping the card against her palm. “I’m flattered that Dylan invited me, but I’m not sure it would send the right message if I-”

“Don’t tell me. I didn’t invite you. Tell Dylan.” Patrick pointed to the last line. “It says RSVP right there.” He turned and disappeared into his office.

Briana had the feeling he was disappointed she was going to turn down his son’s invitation. But she had to, didn’t she?

Later that day, when she called Dylan, he whooped with joy at the sound of her voice, and Briana knew right then that she was going to his party.

“I knew you’d come,” Dylan said enthusiastically when she accepted his invitation. I told Dad you would.”

“Really.” She paused in surprise. “Did he think I wouldn’t?”

“He said you had your own life and I shouldn’t be disappointed if you couldn’t make it. But I would have been.”

So, she’d spend Saturday afternoon at the birthday party desperately pretending she didn’t have the hots for Dylan’s father.

At least she had a good idea what to get Patrick’s son for his birthday and spent a happy hour in an arts and crafts store downtown selecting a drawing kit that was age-appropriate and yet offered him some tools and an instruction book if he wanted to learn more. She also picked up a three-volume set of The Lord of the Rings, figuring that no matter how good a movie was, it could never capture all the nuances of the original book.

While she was in the bookstore, she picked up a book for Fiona, as well, knowing that she was young enough to feel left out when Dylan got all the presents.

Since she wasn’t in the habit of buying kids birthday gifts, Briana didn’t have the right kind of wrapping paper. She found a card shop and bought paper with realistic-looking dinosaurs and a “now you are 10” card.

That was the easy part.

The tough part came Saturday afternoon when she had to decide what a thirty-two-year-old woman should wear to a ten-year-old’s birthday party.

“This is ridiculous!” she yelled to herself after she’d changed her outfit more times than a runway model for a Paris show. She finally decided on a denim skirt, leather sandals, a pale blue shirt and a white cotton sweater.

As she drove to the party, she had no idea what to expect. Her big fear was that, for all the supposed casualness of the invitation, she’d be the only adult other than Patrick, which might in some way cast her as the mother figure for the day.

Of course, she’d tried to pump Patrick for details of the party, but, being a man, he didn’t seem to catch on to the subtext of her questions the way a woman would.

When she’d asked him, “Has Dylan invited many boys?” what she really meant was, “Will I be the only woman there?”

Patrick had answered absently, signing a stack of correspondence. “I gave him a limit of ten boys.”

“Oh. Was I included in that limit?”

He glanced up, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “You’re not a boy.”

She gave up. She absolutely gave up.

Now, as she drove up to Patrick’s house, she was surprised to see a string of cars lining the driveway and parked out front.

When she climbed out of her car, she heard unmistakable sounds of adult merriment. Clearly, then, there were more than just ten boys here at the party. Oh, well, her worst fear was banished. She wasn’t being chosen as stand-in mother for the day. Dylan had simply invited her because he wanted her to be there.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she walked to the front door and rang the bell. She was about to ring again when a harassed-looking Patrick opened the door. Briana had anticipated feeling a little awkwardness at being in his home again, but he was so clearly frazzled that any nervousness immediately fled in the need to help him in some way.

“Do you know anything about potato salad?” he asked.

It was impossible not to smile. He was adorable when he was flustered. “The basics. Why?”

“I forgot to buy it from the deli. Dylan loves potato salad. He can’t turn ten without it and I’ve got a potful of boiling potatoes on the stove, ten demons from hell destroying my house, guests in the backyard I’m ignoring and no clue what to do first.”

So the man could run a city in crisis, but a simple kids’ party was beyond him. Briana had no idea why she found that so appealing, but she did.