Нора Робертс - Hideaway

“Yes. My mother’s turned the house here over to me. I hope Lily and I can spend more time here, but we have caretakers, the couple who’ve worked for my parents for many years, who’ll look after the place while we’re in L.A. or working.”

Maggie set a cup in front of him. “See that you drink that.”

“I will. I wanted to ask if when we are here, if you’d come, have dinner with us.”

“Of course. You’re alone here tonight?” Julia asked him.

“I have some things to deal with before I leave. Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then you’ll have dinner with us tonight. Red’s already coming, so we’re putting a pot roast on as soon as the baking’s done.”

“I would … Thank you. I’d love to come to dinner.” To compose himself, he lifted the tea, sipped. “This is good, and interesting. What is it?”

“Basil and honey,” Maggie told him. “Holy basil it’s called, with honey from our own bees. It helps with stress and fatigue.”

“I want to say you’re both amazing women who are, clearly, raising an amazing young man. I speak for my entire family—and we are many—when I say we are forever in your debt.”

“There’s no debt,” Julia began, but Hugh grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“She is the world to me. I adore the children Lily brought into my life, and love them like my own. But Caitlyn is the only child of my only child. My first wife died,” he said to Dillon.

“I’m sorry.”

“Her middle name was Caitlyn, and I see her in Catey’s eyes, in the way she moves. She is the world to me. I want you to allow me to give you more than gratitude. I know there’s no price for what you, all of you, did for Cate, but I’m asking you to allow me to give you some tangible repayment for what can never be repaid.”

“Your heart’s in the right place.” Maggie took a bowl, poured the mix in it over the apples. “We couldn’t take money for doing what was right for a frightened child.”

“The world to me,” Hugh repeated.

Reading the emotion, the need, the pain, Julia made a decision. “Dillon, did you finish your chores?”

He stuffed the second half of a cookie in his mouth before it was too late. “Almost.”

“Since you’ve bolted your share of those cookies, finish the almost.”

“But—” He caught the look in his mother’s eyes, the one that said: Argue with me, pay the price. He dragged himself to his feet. “I guess I’ll see you for dinner, Mr. Sullivan.”

“Hugh, and, yes, you will.”

He waited until the boy went out the back. “You thought of something you’ll accept.”

“That depends. We had a dog. Dillon loved Daisy so much. She went everywhere he went—except school, and if they could’ve figured out how to manage it, she’d have been under his desk. We, my husband and I, got her before he was born, so he had her all his life. She died two months ago.”

Her voice broke. “I’m not over it. But grieving time has to end, and I’ve seen when Dillon has computer time, he’s been looking at dogs. He’s ready.”

Maggie lifted her apron, used the hem to wipe at her eyes. “I loved that damn dog.”

“I’ll get him any kind of dog he wants.”

“There’s a woman I know who helps with rescues and fostering. I’ve been thinking of this for a couple of weeks, but couldn’t make myself pull the trigger.”

“Because this is the trigger,” Maggie put in, and rubbed a hand on Julia’s back.

“It feels that way. She’s just this side of Monterey, so not far. I can call her if you want to take Dillon and go see.”

“Yes. If this is what you’ll accept, this is what I’ll do.”

“One favor. Don’t tell him where you’re going. I think the surprise is part of the gift. It’s a gift, not payment.”

“A gift.” Rising, he took Julia’s hand, kissed it. “Thank you.”

The next thing Dillon knew, his mom made him wash up—again—so he could help Hugh with an errand.

“Um, Leo and Dave are coming over in a couple hours.”

“You’ll be back by then, and if not, we’ll keep them entertained.”

She made him put on his school jacket instead of his work jacket—like anybody cared. Still, he didn’t think he’d mind a ride in the fancy car.

“I appreciate this, Dillon.”

“It’s okay.” After hooking his seat belt, Dillon brushed his fingertips over the leather seat. Smoo—ooth. “This is a really nice car.”

“I like it. Here, you can navigate.” He handed Dillon the directions Julia had written out.

“That’s Mom’s writing.”

“Yes, she’s helping me, too. So tell me, Dillon,” he continued before the boy could ask with what, “what do you want to do, to be, when you’re grown-up?”

“A rancher, just like now. It’s the best. You get to work with animals, especially the horses. And you plant things.”

“It must be a lot of work.”

“Yeah, but it’s still awesome. We get some help in the spring and summer when we need it, but mostly it’s just me and Mom and Gram. You’re going to turn left at the end of our road, head toward Monterey.”

“Got it. You said especially the horses. Do you ride?”

“Sure. That’s the best. But I know how to train them. I saw that movie you were in where you were a rancher, but you used to be a gunfighter.”

“Ah. Into Redemption .”

“Yeah, that’s it. You need to turn left again on that road coming up. You really rode good. Mom let me rent the DVD of this movie you made with Cate and your son, and I guess your dad. We watched it last night because it’s not a school night. You all used accents, even she did. It was weird.”

Hugh laughed, made the turn.

“I meant it was weird for me, I guess, because after a while I kind of forgot who she was, and you and her dad, because it seemed like you were the people in the movie. It’s the next left.”

Slowing, Hugh gave Dillon a long look. “You’ve just given me and my son, my granddaughter, my own father the highest of compliments.”

It felt good to know he had, even if he didn’t quite understand how. “Is it fun, being a movie star?”

“Not always, but it’s awesome being an actor.”

Dillon wasn’t sure what the difference was, but it seemed rude to ask. His mom hated rude.

“Mom says it’s the blue house on the left with the big garage.”

“Looks like we’re here then.”

Hugh pulled into the drive behind a van, a truck. “I appreciate you coming with me.”

“It’s okay. Mom or Gram would have remembered to make me clean my room otherwise.”

“Clever boy,” Hugh murmured as they got out.

Outside the blue ranch house on the short front lawn sat a Big Wheel. A birdhouse hung from the corner eave, and in the front window sat an enormous tabby cat who looked bored at the idea of company.

When Hugh knocked, a din of barking erupted from inside. In the window, the cat yawned. The door opened almost immediately.

Dillon saw a woman older than his mother, younger than his grandmother, with short brown hair and really red lips and really pink cheeks. She pressed a hand to her heart over a shirt with lots of color that looked too fancy for Saturday morning to him.

She said—pretty much squeaked—“Oh, Hugh Sullivan! I just can’t believe—I’m so … Come in, come in. I’m Lori Greenspan. I’m just honored.”

Hugh said polite stuff, taking her hand, but Dillon didn’t pay any real attention. Because he got the movie star thing now. People, or some people anyway, got crazy eyes for movie stars. He guessed acting was just a really cool job.

“And you’re Julia’s boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You come right on in. I hope you’ll excuse the mess,” she said, giving Hugh the crazy eyes again. “I was just doing my Saturday cleaning when you called.”