Into the Night (35 page)
Still, the crappy way it looked depressed the hell out of her.
Mary Lou unlocked the passenger's-side door and stepped back to let Bob look for his book.
With a triumphant "Aha!" he pulled it out from underneath the seat. "Thank you," he said, "so much."
"You're welcome," she said, trying out the key on the trunk. It popped open.
He took the keys from her. "Here's what we'll do. You take the truck, I'll drive this car home, then you can drive me back here to get my car. That way you don't have to move the car seat out of the truck. Smart, right?"
"Oh," she said. "I'm sure you don't have time to—"
"My next appointment's not until two-thirty," he said. "Not only do I have time to help you get your car home, but I have time to stop for lunch, too, preferably with a little company for a change." He opened the driver's-side door and slid in behind the wheel. "I'm not going to take no for an answer to either suggestion."
Bob started her car with a roar and, bemused, Mary Lou started backing away.
He made an impatient face at her through the windshield, motioning her to move faster with his hand, and laughing, she turned.
She could feel him watching her as she walked to Sam's truck, and when she glanced back at him, she caught a definite glint of admiration in his eyes.
Sam probably wouldn't like the idea of her having lunch with a relative stranger. He was always full of warnings— don't do this, don't do that.
But right about now, with a handsome man checking her out for the first time in a long time, Mary Lou didn't give a good goddamn.
"I've always loved your house," Joan said as she helped clear the table after lunch.
Charlotte looked up at her granddaughter, who laughed and held up a hand.
"I know," Joan said. "You don't need to say anything. I remember the hissy fit I threw when you moved here, too. What was I? Eight years old?"
"Seven," Charlie told her as she put the leftover chicken salad into a bowl. "And it wasn't a hissy fit. It was more of a tragic pout. Deep sighs and big, sad eyes. Very melodramatic. It was all Gramps could do to keep from laughing whenever you came over."
Joan remembered which drawer held the lids and fished out the right one. "He finally yelled at me. That was a little scary. Gramps mad. I almost fainted."
"He wasn't really mad." Charlie took the lid from her and sealed the bowl, popping it into the refrigerator.
"Yeah, I know," Joan said. "He was just ready for me to snap out of it. Your old house was great, though."
"It wouldn't have been after they widened the street."
"I know. I drove past it last time I was in town. The traffic's terrible over there. Really noisy. And the entire front yard is gone."
"I do miss that pantry," Charlie admitted.
"And the dumbwaiter, and the front and back staircases," Joan said, remembering. "It was a great house for hide-and-seek, but that's not what made it magical. You and Gramps did that. And when you moved, the magic came with you."
Charlie hugged her. "What a lovely thing to say."
"It's true. I couldn't see it back when I was seven, but I finally caught on."
"There are some truths we're just not ready for," Charlie agreed. The coffeemaker was finally done dripping, and she poured them both a cup. "Are you still drinking this black?"
"Depends on how many calories I had for lunch," Joan admitted. "And today I had way too many, so yes."
"You don't need to diet. I think you look wonderful," Charlie told her, leading the way out onto the porch.
"Thanks, Gramma, but—"
"Tell me about this Lieutenant Muldoon."
Joan laughed and rolled her eyes. "Still trying to get me married, huh? I knew this was coming as soon as Gramps made himself scarce."
It was a habit Charlie and Vince had fallen into over the years, after Sheryl had died. Vince would disappear for a while so that Joan and Charlie would have a chance to talk privately. She didn't think for one moment that she could take the place of Joan's mother, but still, she hoped that being available to listen made things a little easier for her granddaughter.
These days it was tougher than ever to be a young Woman.
"He's just a friend," Joan told her.
"Have you told him that? I may be old, but I still know smitten when I see it."
Joan shook her head as she smiled into her coffee. "Gramma, he's a twenty-five-year-old man. He wants to sleep with me. But he wants to sleep with me because he wants to sleep with everyone. That's what twenty-five-year-old men do."
"Yes, and I've heard that most young men have found that the quickest and easiest way into a woman's bed is to get up at the crack of dawn and spend five hours—or was it six?—at the home of her mentally ill brother. Oh, but wait. That's neither quick nor easy nor particularly fun—especially compared to picking up a woman in a bar."
"Gramma—'
"Some men aren't jerks, Joanie, even if they are only twenty-five years old. You know this man far better than I do, I'll grant you that, but if first impressions count for anything—"
"They don't. My first impression of him was—"
Charlie plowed right over her. "When he shook my hand, he looked me straight in the eye, and I thought, He's the one Joan's been waiting for. I know that sounds silly—"
"It does," Joan said. "He just has really pretty eyes. Pretty everything. Maybe you 're the one who's smitten."
"You whisked him out of there so quickly, I was sure you were intentionally hiding him from us. Even Cramps noticed."
Joan put down her coffee cup. "I was," she said. "I was trying to avoid this very conversation." She sighed. "Look, Mike is a really nice guy, all right? Really nice. Stupidly nice, in fact. I really like him. I do. But I can't think about him in terms of any kind of a real relationship."
"Why not?"
Joan rolled her eyes. "Do you have three hours? The list of reasons would take that long to work through."
"Abbreviate."
She sighed again.
"Come on. Humor your old gramma."
Joan laughed. "You're impossible."
"That's what Vince tells me. Tell."
Another big sigh, then, "First of all, he lives in California. The last time I checked, the federal government had no plans to move the nation's capital from Washington, D.C., to the West Coast. And if that's not enough, he's a Navy SEAL— who needs that aggravation? You should know what that's like more than most people. And, oh, didn't I mention that he's twenty-five years old? He's a baby. Even if I completely lost my mind and wanted to start a relationship with a man who lives three thousand miles away from me and risks his life regularly as part of his job, I can't get past the age difference. Everyone will look at us. Wherever we go. They'll wonder why he's with me."
Her cell phone rang before Charlie had a chance at rebuttal.
Which was probably for the best. There was no point arguing over a truth that Joan wasn't ready to hear.
What Charlie did say when Joan closed her cell phone was, "Gramps is quite a few years younger than me. Did you know that?"
Joan shook her head. "Three years isn't—"
"Seven isn't either."
She just laughed as she gathered up her handbag. "I have to get back. Apparently there's some kind of problem with Brooke—what a surprise. I'm needed back at the hotel. I swear, I'm really starting to dislike that woman, even though she is my President's offspring. Don't get up." She gave Charlie a kiss. "Tell Gramps I'm sorry I had to miss our card game. After this thing with Brooke is over, probably by next Thursday, I'll be around more often." She snapped her fingers. "Oh, I meant to ask you. Dick Evans told me you were invited to next year's anniversary ceremony at Pearl Harbor, that they'd asked you to speak on behalf of the families of the men who were lost."
"I'm not sure yet if we're going," Charlie said. "That's more than a year from now."
"A free trip to Hawaii?" Joan laughed. "I think you're going."
"We'll see." She hadn't even mentioned it yet to Vince. She didn't know how he'd react. Of course, he'd never say a word in complaint, but she'd suspected he'd been bothered by that interview she did last week for the History Channel. He was still pretty subdued, still oddly quiet at times, and it had been days.
And she wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject. Are you still jealous of my dead first husband? It was so absurd, it seemed impossible, after nearly sixty years of a good marriage. And yet...
"Dick also asked me to ask you if you'd come to this thing in Coronado next week—the SEAL demonstration—as a guest of President Bryant's. Sit on the riser with the other VIPs... ?"
"She'd love to."
Charlie turned to see Vince standing in the open sliding door.
"The invitation is for you, too, Gramps," Joan said.
"Then we'd love to." Vince smiled at Charlie. "Even though we didn't vote for the guy. Just tell us where and when and we'll be there."
"You'll get an official invite, probably tomorrow, but Dick wanted to be able to give the news agencies something on the local angle. So don't be surprised if you get a call from the San Diego Union-Tribune."
"Oh, goody," Vince said. "Reporters. Let's see what they get wrong this time."
"Easy there, you," Joan said, and gave him a kiss. "Reporters are our friends. I've got to run. Bye, Gramma."
And then she was gone.
Vince shook his head. "At least we got her to sit still for a few hours."
"She's not dating that Navy lieutenant," Charlie told him. "They're just friends."
Vince laughed at that—a sharp burst of merriment. "Yeah? The way we were just friends, I bet, huh? Did you see her looking at him?"
"Did you see him looking at her?"
"Yes, ma'am, I did," Vince said. "I give 'em till the end of the week, tops."
Chapter 15
COMMANDER PAOLETTI, LIEUTENANT Jacquette, and Senior Chief Wolchonok, the mighty trinity of SEAL Team Sixteen, were deep in discussion.
Or rather, Tom Paoletti—looking pretty grim considering that their exercises in the cave had gone as well as they possibly could have—was talking, and Jazz and the senior were nodding in solemn agreement.
As Sam watched, Paoletti turned and briefly made eye contact with Mark Jenkins, who immediately approached the three, clipboard in hand. Hah. So that's how Jenk did it. Sam had always thought the freckle-faced petty officer had some kind of Radar O'Reilly-type telepathic abilities, but apparently he just kept his eyes open and stayed alert, ready to leap into action.
Sam watched Jenk nod and take notes as both officers and the senior chief gave him instructions.
No doubt about it. There was going to be a detour. They weren't going straight back to the base. Which was fine with him. The later he got home tonight, the better.
"What's up?"
He turned to find both Muldoon and Cosmo beside him, also watching the team's senior officers.
"I don't know," Sam admitted.
But then here came Jenk, trotting briskly toward them.
"Target practice," he announced.
"Now?" Muldoon asked. "Here?"
"The CO wants us to do some shooting from on board the helos," Jenk answered on his way past. "So, yes, now, but not quite here. We're going home via Caliente."
Caliente was the team's nickname—courtesy of an incident involving the usually taciturn Jay Lopez, some extremely hot shell casings, and a lot of shouting—for the CO's favorite firing range out in the desert, north and west of San Diego.
"Thought Black Lagoon was covert," Cosmo commented, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
"It is," Sam said. Sure, they'd practiced close quarters combat in the cave, but firing weapons on an operation like Black Lagoon was always considered a last resort. Where they were going—and their insertion point hadn't been revealed but Sam had a strong sense that it wasn't going to be in Afghanistan, so it really had to be hush-hush—no one was going to do any shooting from any of the extraction helos whatsoever.
Besides, the helos that carried the SEALs away from an op were always armed with shooters—and good ones—of their own.
Mike Muldoon had a funny look on his face.
Sam nudged him. "What?"
But Muldoon just shook his head "Nothing."
"We're gonna insert via two helos at the dog and pony show for President Bryant," Cosmo reported. "Call came in this morning. Date's set in stone. They don't want the Leap Frogs, they want us. We'll be fast-roping in from two Seahawks."
Sam looked sharply at Muldoon. "Is that true?"
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