We’ve been talking about Willard’s petty little power games when he suddenly says, “I just remembered something. It was that sedan that really set Eli off back then.”
I glance up from the mess of papers spread across the workbench. “What sedan?”
“That black sedan. The one Willard had towed here. Six, maybe seven years ago.” He squints, then snaps his fingers. “Lexus. Front all smashed in, like it kissed a concrete wall. Willard told Eli it was gonna be a ‘quiet fix-up.’ No insurance paperwork. Paid in cash. Wouldn’t say who was driving, just muttered something about a deer and bad luck.”
My stomach drops. I already know.
I know even before Frankie adds, “It belonged to someone with money.”
I lean back, heart hammering. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a deer and bad luck. But deep down I know better.
This isn’t just a crack in Willard’s armor. It is a hole, and I’d be a fool not to pry it open.
I need to talk to Andrew Hudson.
COLE
Preschool PTA meetings are always a circus, but tonight it feels like a special edition with too many bonus scenes. Without Baywood Beans’ carrot cake, I’d already have bolted.
Becky’s armed with clipboards, highlighters, and her undefeated ability to assign vexing tasks to everyone in sight.
Normally I’d fadeinto the background, chewing on baked goods and avoiding eye contact with Becky.
But tonight she’s brought Henry, who’s sitting next to me, adjusting his camera lens while she breathlessly explains that “Baywood’s youngest learners deserve official documentation.” Meaning: flattering action shots of her mid-speech. Henry doesn’t argue. He rarely does. He just lifts the camera and starts clicking.
“Don’t forget you’re capturing history,” Becky whispers.
“Like the moon landing?” Henry asks, bone-dry.
Becky beams, completely missing it. Michael, Luca’s dad, sits across from Becky, suit jacket still on, looking like he was born in a boardroom. They’re already circling each other.
“I think the bake sale proceeds should go directly into the Child Genius Club,” Becky says sweetly. “After all, we’re investing in the brightest young minds.”
Michael leans forward, voice sharp enough to cut paper. “With respect, Becky, enrichment should be accessible to all the children, not just the ones you handpick. I suggest we build a heated swimming pool in the school basement.”
“Everyone is allowed to apply,” Becky retorts. “And what about your swimming pool idea? Awfully convenient for Luca, isn’t it?”
“It’s never too early to prepare for the 2038 Olympics,” Michael says smoothly.
“Or that year’s Nobel prize,” Becky fires back. “If we introduce the kids to quantum gravity now, Avery… I meanallthe kids would benefit.”
The rest of us watch like it’s Wimbledon. Henry lowers his camera, expression unreadable. Then he asks, in a voice so dry it could catch fire, “Should I be documenting this for future generations?”
The room snickers. But Jørgen — who’s been stone-faced and silent all through the meeting, arms crossed like a fortress — suddenly letsout a booming laugh. A real one. His whole face lights up like Henry just cracked the code to comedy.
Henry blinks, startled, and for a moment I swear his calm mask slips. His gaze lingers on Jørgen a fraction too long, then he fumbles, lowers the camera… and quickly raises it again, like hiding.
Jørgen clears his throat. “Playground paint,” he says, maybe to cover the moment. “I can take care of it. Make it safe again.”
Becky claps, seizing the opening. “Wonderful! Cole, you’ll join that subcommittee, won’t you?”
Normally I’d mutter an excuse, but something in me has shifted since Xaden came back. I sit up straighter. “Yeah,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
Michael arches a brow like I’ve just volunteered to do brain surgery. “Do you have experience with playground materials? Can I see your references?”
“I’ve got two hands. Is that enough reference for you?” I ask. A few parents chuckle. Becky jots my name down with flourish. Henry snaps a photo and murmurs, “Definitely documenting this.”
Being noticed here was one thing. Facing my dad with the questions I have; that’s the real mountain. The thought of him has been sitting like a stone in my chest all day. But I have to find out what is going on with him and Willard.
