Evolution (8 page)

One gift was big enough to be a twelve-inch TV—what he’d really wanted. Then he’d never again have to ask permission from the elderly Alperts to watch the set in the living room. The other boxes all looked like they contained clothes. Okay, he couldn’t go to school buck naked, and he’d done some growing so he needed longer pants and shirtsleeves. Yeah, he’d wear them, but he wasn’t going to use the TV. Well, maybe just to watch the basketball playoffs, but that was all.

Jeff eased his hand past the elastic at his waist and allowed himself the only comfort and joy he was likely to receive that Christmas.

#

Richard breathed in the
scent of spent candles—vanilla— and cracked open an eye to unfamiliar surroundings. Daylight peeked through a crack in the curtains at the window across the room. The mound of clothes on a chair across from the bed were his, lying in an untidy heap. It wasn’t like him not to fold them neatly.

From somewhere nearby came the sound of a shower. He rolled onto his stomach. The bedside clock read nine-fifteen. Still plenty of time to get home and—

The water stopped. Moments later a towel-clad woman entered the room. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning.”

Christina Maynard, RN, crawled across the bed, losing her towel along the way, drew back the covers and nestled her damp body against his.

“You’re cold.”

“Cold body, warm heart,” she murmured, pressed her lips against his, her tongue teasing his.

“Have you been a good little girl?” he asked, coming up for air.

“Always.”

“Then maybe Santa can make this the merriest Christmas morning ever.”

She laughed, tracing a finger along the rim of his ear. “You mean I have to wait another whole year?”

“Year?”

“Christmas was yesterday, dear boy.”

Richard’s thoughts raced—he’d lost all track of time. “Yesterday! Holy shit.” He pushed her away, threw back the covers, snatched up his limp socks, donned them, and then searched for his skivvies.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” she said.

“My little brother’s waiting. He was expecting—”

Christina pouted. “You’d rather be with some kid than me?”

Richard pulled his T-shirt over his head. “He might be just a kid but it’s his first Christmas with me.”

“With you?” she asked, her voice filled with reproach.

Richard found his sweater and
donned it. “Yeah, I’m his guardian. I’m responsible for him, and—” It was all too complicated to explain to someone he really didn’t care about, to someone who was just a warm body, a willing partner who—

Shame coursed through him. He had offered the woman a ride home from the hospital. Sex with her had been an unexpected bonus. But he hadn’t meant to fall asleep afterwards—not when he’d already disappointed the kid. But he’d been close to exhaustion after a thirty-six plus hour shift. He must have slept for nine hours and now—

“I’m sorry, Christina, but I really should have gone home last night.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. Instead of a frown, he found her smiling. “What?” he asked.

“It’s so cute that you care about your baby brother.”

He stared at her for a moment, taking in her words. Jeff would be anything but cute when he confronted the boy.

“I’ve gotta go.” He moved to her side once more, leaned down, and kissed her. Her tongue darted between his lips once again, teasing him, making him wish he didn’t have to rush out the door. She pulled him down to the bed, melting her now-warm naked body against him, her breath warm against his cheek. “Stay. For just another little while.”

Selfish need overcame sense and Richard spent another hour in unproductive bliss.

#

Richard hit the Porsche’s brakes as he approached the mock-Tudor house, taking in the eight-foot Christmas tree on the curb in front. Next to it was the box for the TV set he’d bought Jeff. Up the street he saw the lumbering garbage truck make a stop. He turned into the drive, still thinking about the TV box.

Well, since he’d disappointed the kid by changing their plans, he couldn’t blame Jeff for not waiting for him to appear before opening his gifts. He hadn’t thought of it before, but Richard had been looking forward to watching the kid tear open his presents. Didn’t every parent—pseudo or otherwise—enjoy the same thing?

Inside, he found the house had been totally stripped of all seasonal decorations. All that remained was a small pile of gifts bearing his  name sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. He scooped them up and headed upstairs to shower and change clothes, and afterwards ducked his head into Jeff’s bedroom. The bed was neatly made. He didn’t see the TV, nor a sign of the kid’s other gifts, not that he knew exactly what they were.

Back downstairs, he entered the living room where he found Mary, the young housekeeper, collecting the last of the Christmas ornaments. She averted her eyes, busying herself with the boxes.

“Hello, Mary, have you seen my brother?”

“No, sir. He wasn’t here when we arrived this morning.”

Something in Richard’s gut twisted. “What time was that?”

“About seven-thirty. I’m not sure, but I don’t think his bed had been slept in.”

Dear God, could Jeff have been so disappointed by a crappy Christmas that he’d run away? But no—there’d been the empty TV box ready for the trash men. Jeff was moody, yes, but otherwise a well-behaved kid who rarely acted up. Richard wouldn’t panic about the boy’s absence just yet.

“Where’s Curtis? I saw his car in the garage.”

“He drove Mr. and Mrs. Alpert to visit their friends in Canada, sir.”

Richard frowned. “I thought they were going by limo.”

“They had a change of plans, sir. Helen told me. I’m sorry, I don’t know the details.”

Richard nodded toward the box of ornaments. “Who told you to take down the tree and all the decorations?”

“Helen, sir. She said Mrs. Alpert called and gave her instructions to have everything taken down and packed away before they arrived home.”

“They aren’t due back until next weekend.”

“Helen told me to do it today, sir.”

Richard glanced at another pile of gifts—more of his own. “What happened to Jeff’s presents?”

Mary seemed to squirm. “They were under the tree this morning, sir, untouched.”

“Where are they now?”

Panic filled her eyes. “It wasn’t me, sir.”

“Where are they?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mary looked as though she might cry. “In the trash, sir.”

Outside, the garbage truck rumbled away.

“Who put them there?”

Tears overflowed Mary’s eyes.

#

Richard stood in the butler’s pantry doorway for a full minute before Helen acknowledged his presence. Crouched before one of the mahogany cabinets, a clipboard in hand, she appeared to be taking inventory of the canned goods.

“Oh, Dr. Alpert.” At last she straightened, her face impassive. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Richard played it cool. “I understand you spoke to my grandmother this morning.”

“Yes, sir. She said to take down all the decorations.”

“Did she say it had to be done today?”

“She wanted them down before she returned.”

“Which won’t be for another week.”

Helen sniffed. “Sir, she left me in charge of the staff. I have the discretion to give them instructions.”

“Yes, but this is also my home, and I wish you’d consulted me before you had Mary dismantle everything.”

“As I told you, sir, I didn’t expect to see you today. You’re rarely here.” She turned her back on him.

“There’s another more serious matter I’d like to discuss. My brother’s gifts are missing. Mary seems to think they’ve been thrown away.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.” Her voice was level, but she didn’t face him.

“Jeff’s gifts are gone. I understand you disposed of them.”

She didn’t answer, but a blush colored her cheeks.

Caught!

“Where’s the TV?” Richard asked.

“I beg your pardon.”

“The color TV. Or did you toss that, too?”

Again, no answer.

“You wouldn’t mind if we checked the trunk of your car, would you?”

Helen turned to face him, her eyes wide. “I don’t like your inference, sir.”

“Oh, well, then perhaps you’d rather talk to the Amherst Police.”

#

The long walk from school in frigid temps left Jeff feeling chilled to the bone. Thank goodness the weather had waited a day to revert to Buffalo’s stormy wintry norm.

The back door was unlocked, but Jeff wasn’t sure who he would find inside since there were no cars parked in the drive. He hung his coat on his usual peg in the butler’s pantry and he made sure no snow clung to his shoes. He’d been yelled at too many times for that infraction.

The house was deadly quiet, and he crept along the hall, pausing at the threshold to the large and unwelcoming living room. Richard sat at the far end of the oversized couch, staring at the cold fireplace with a glass clutched in his hand and a bottle of Scotch on the cocktail table before him. A little TV sat by his side on the floor.

The sight of the drink in his brother’s hand frightened Jeff. How often had he come home from school to find their mother drunk—passed out? And if she wasn’t, she was liable to blow up at him—take out her anger at him for transgressions he’d never made—problems he hadn’t caused.

He cleared his throat. Richard looked up, startled, then stood up. “Thank God you’re home. Where have you been, kid?” His voice wasn’t angry. In fact, maybe he even sounded … worried?

Then again, he had a lot of nerve asking that question. Still, Jeff decided to answer honestly. “School. I’ve been at school.”

Richard frowned. “School? Doing what?”

“Printing pictures for the yearbook. I’m their photographer. Remember I told you?”

Richard’s expression darkened. “It’s Christmas vacation. How’d you get in?”

“The janitor. He knows me. And I have a key to the photo lab.”

Richard sank back into his seat, eyed Jeff, and took another slow sip of his Scotch. “The housekeeper says you didn’t sleep here last night. Where were you?” This time there was an edge to his voice.

“School. I’ve got nowhere else to go. I knew you wouldn’t be here, so I came home around six. The house was locked. I don’t have a key.” Mrs. Alpert wouldn’t allow him to have one.

“Where’d you spend the night?” This time Richard’s words sounded like an accusation.

“In Curtis’s car. I had to break a window to get into the garage. You can check if you want.” Would he be punished for that, too?

“It was in the thirties last night. How did you stay warm?”

“Curtis keeps a blanket on the backseat. It didn’t help much. I thought I was gonna freeze to death.”

Richard took another sip. “Where have you been today?”

“I told you, school.”

Richard grunted and downed the last of his drink.

Fury boiled inside Jeff. Why didn’t Richard apologize for not coming home the night before, for making him sleep in the garage? Why wasn’t he angry at what Jeff had had to endure? Why didn’t he do something besides pour liquor down his goddamn throat?

Anger obliterated Jeff’s resolve to keep silent, to not give a damn about Richard and the promises he’d failed to keep.

“Where the have you been?”

Richard looked startled. “Me?”

“I called from the school phone. The hospital said you left before midnight last night.”

Richard’s mouth opened. He exhaled, but he didn’t speak.

“I’ll bet you spent the night with some trashy chick,” Jeff bluffed.

Richard put his glass down on the cocktail table before him, his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry this was such a shitty Christmas for you, kid. I really wanted it to be different. And I’ve got more bad news.” He turned and looked Jeff in the eye. “Helen tossed your presents. I managed to retrieve this.” He indicated the TV on the floor. “She had it stashed in her car—along with half of grandfather’s liquor cabinet and a bunch of other stuff. She must have been cleaning them out for months.”

Jeff stared at his brother. Was he supposed to care about all that crap?

“I fired her,” Richard continued, “so at least you won’t have to put up with her acid tongue any more. And I’ll make it up to you, kid. I promise.”

Jeff said nothing. Lies, lies, lies. That’s all adults ever told.

“Don’t bother,” he said, and headed for the door.

“Wait!” Richard called.

Jeff turned. “You took me in when Mom died. You don’t owe me anything else, okay?”

“But I do.” Richard stood again. “I promised your mother—”

“
Our
mother,” Jeff interrupted.

“I promised her I’d look out for you.”