Tomorrow night, seven o’clock at Appleton?
Jeremiah
Good
Jude
I’ll contact the others.
Jude's drive to Appleton was longer than both his mom's drive and Anton's drive. Even so, when he pulled up to Jeremiah’s house the next night, he saw that he’d arrived first. Which pleased him but did not surprise him. He always ran at least fifteen minutes early for any non-FBI event, and for FBI events he arrived forty minutes ahead of time because all his co-workers arrived thirty minutes ahead of time. Knowing Anton, he’d arrive one minute early for the meeting tonight. Knowing Mom, she’d arrive twelve minutes late.
Using his key, Jude let himself through the back door. “I’m here.”
“In the living room,” Jeremiah called.
Jude found his older brother standing on the area rug, hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, and he looked exhausted.
“Everything okay?” Jude asked.
“I'm worried about Remy.”
“Ah. Worried why?”
A pause. “Just worried.” Jeremiah pressed his fingers against his temples as if he had a headache. “What would 1.0 have done to convince a woman to give him a chance?”
Jeremiah was finally admitting what Jude had known all along. His brother was falling for Remy. “1.0?”
“That’s how I refer to my former self.”
“As far as I know, convincing women to give him a chance wasn’t really an issue for 1.0.” Jude had spent a lifetime watching Jeremiah react with polite indifference toward women who were infatuated with him. “But if it had been an issue, the old you would have used charm and persistence. If something was important to 1.0, he never gave up.”
“You make it sound like 1.0 was the better model.”
“No way. 2.0 likes chocolate pudding and God, so 2.0’s obviously the better model. If you’re having trouble convincing Remy to hang out with you, it’s only because she’s a very rare type of person.”
Jeremiah’s face softened. “She is rare. And there are . . . some things in her past that make her cautious. I can’t pressure her.”
“Then hang in there. Be patient.”
“Was 1.0 the patient type?”
“No.”
“Neither is 2.0.” He headed toward the stairs. “I’ll go get my notes and Alexis’s calendar.”
Jude went to one of the living room windows overlooking the hillside. He knew this part of Maine better than any place on earth. Groomsport washistown and returning here always unloosened tight places inside him.
It was full dark out, but clear. Lights from homes and streetlights dotted the hillsides, congregating in numerous points of light in downtown Groomsport. Tonight the sea was made silvery by the moon sitting low in the sky.
That big moon reminded him of the time Uncle Jack O’Sullivan had taken him and Jeremiah night fishing when they were kids. Jeremiah had reeled in an eight-pound largemouth bass with a lure he’d made himself. Even back then, Jeremiah had made everything look easy, including things that took strength and a will of iron to accomplish.
Jude had always regarded himself as the less flashy, less successful, and less handsome Camden brother. For the most part, that had been just fine with him. His father, his mother, and Jeremiah were all driven toward big achievements and big glamour. But through a trick of genetics, he was not.
He was dedicated to his work because he wanted to do the right thing and do it well. Not because he wanted recognition or money for it.
Jude avoided the spotlight. In fact, he hated fame—the thing that had brought stress and misery to his family members. He definitely didn’t want scandal. He didn’t even want to be recognized as a Camden. When he was ten, he’d asked his parents never to allow another photo of him to be published—not in magazines, not in newspapers, and not on websites. The family attorneys had been busy ever since warning and suing entities that attempted to take and post photos.
Even though he didn’t want the public at large to connect him to his family, he did love his family. They were his priority, which was why he was glad Jeremiah was about to give him something tangible to do to help.
