They toasted with water—which was probably bad luck—and decided they were hungry after all.
With Tessa having officially taken over the only legitimate office space in the Summer House, Eli had moved his workspace to the dining area. As much as he wanted to blow off every minute of this summer, it was somewhat overcast today, and the house was unusually quiet.
Maggie and Jo Ellen had surprised them all with an announcement that they were going to spend a week or so at Betty and Frank’s house, helping Frank garden and learning some new recipes with Betty.
He supposed that after thirty years, the old friends had a lot of catching up to do. His mother was a bad enough driver that she certainly couldn’t spend an evening with a couple of heavy wine drinkers like Frank and Betty and drive home, so he fully supported their visit.
Vivien had gone to a networking breakfast with some other local designers, and Kate said she’d be on baby duty while Jonah got dressed and ready for his first day of classes.
It was really the perfect time for work, so Eli had persuaded Meredith to review a packet of early concepts one of the architects in the firm had sent for a massive renovation project.This was normally right in her wheelhouse, but today, she didn’t seem as into the process as she usually was.
Eli zoomed in on the outdoor elevation plan, trying to figure out what was wrong—with the sketchandhis daughter.
“I don’t like that arch,” he muttered, glancing at Meredith.
Like she had a million times since she’d learned what a plumb line was, Meredith sat next to him, her sketch pad open, her gaze flicking from the rendering to some notes and drawings in front of her.
But this time, her gaze looked…off. Her pencil wasn’t moving, her questions lacked their usual crispness. Normally, Meredith was all bite and brilliance—sharp as a tack and twice as fast at spotting an error on a design than Eli had ever been.
A third-generation architect, Meredith was gifted and driven. But today, she was…distant and lost. Her fingers idly tapped the rim of her mug, a tea bag dangling from the side. Since when did she fuel with herbal tea and not her usual gallon of caffeine?
“You okay?” he asked casually as he used the mouse to highlight the offending arch.
“Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”
He nodded but didn’t press. She’d tell him if she wanted to. Or not.
Behind them, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs, a little light to be Jonah’s. Eli turned to see who it was, spotting Kate, barefoot in cutoff jeans and a V-neck tee, holding a squirming Atlas in her arms.
“Sorry to interrupt, but…we have a problem.”
Eli turned completely. “Atlas blow a diaper?”
“No. Jonah.” She pushed her glasses up and took a few steps closer. “He’s still in bed,” she said in a hushed tone.
“You’re kidding.” Eli abandoned his laptop and checked his watch. “His class starts in an hour.”
She nodded. “I’ve been knocking and calling through the door, but he told me to take Atlas and leave him alone.”
Eli’s stomach dropped. Jonah’s mood had improved since he’d had that long conversation with Dusty last weekend, but he was erratic at best, and somehow this news didn’t completely surprise him.
Not bothering with questions, Eli rose and headed straight for the stairs, vaguely aware that both Meredith and Kate followed him.
On the first floor, the morning light was completely different. It filtered through shades and bounced off the pool, giving the gathering room a soft, inviting glow. But there was nothing soft or inviting about Jonah’s closed bedroom door.
Eli knocked on it anyway, silently sending up a prayer for help that he sensed he would need. “Jonah? It’s Dad. Open up.”
No answer but a faint grunt.
“Jonah,” he said more firmly, keeping his voice level. “Talk to me, son.”
Another grunt. Then a muffled, “Go away.”
Meredith stepped next to him. “Let me try.” She crouched near the door. “Jonah. It’s me. Just open the door, okay? You don’t have to explain anything. We’re just worried.”
Nothing.
Atlas, fussy and wriggling, let out a piercing wail. They heard the sheets rustle. Footsteps. The click of the lock. Then, slowly, the door opened a crack.
