Stuck in Berry Lake.
The words might as well be lyrics from a melancholy country song. His hometown had a 24/7 rumor mill, a dive bar with a PhD-holding bartender, and more drama than a four-digit population should have, so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch.
Elias rolled his head to one side and then the other, stretching his stiff neck muscles. He’d sat for too long, but the movement didn’t help.
The pain between his eyebrows sharpened.
It wasn’t yesterday’s jackhammer intensity, where only darkness and extra-strength painkillers provided relief. This ache was more like a drunk woodpecker whose beak occasionally hit its mark.
Go home.
He should. A guy with a life would be at his kitchen table with a beer, a plate of home-cooked food, and someone sitting next to him. Someone with a pretty smile, eyes only for him, and who smelled nice.
Not that he’d gone out on a date in weeks. Or had it been months?
Elias couldn’t remember. Talk about the sad cherry on the top of his nonexistent personal life.
His headache intensified.
Uh-oh. The woodpecker appeared to be sobering up.
Focus. He had work to do.
A knock, and then his door opened. Dad, aka Marc Carpenter, Junior to friends and clients, stepped in and left the door open. “Hard at work, as usual.”
“You and Gramps keep passing on cases to me.”
Shoulders back and chin lifted, Dad stood like Zeus on Mount Olympus about to throw a lightning bolt over the desk. “That’s the price you have to pay to move up in the firm.”
Elias’s shoulders bunched, and his neck got even stiffer. Dad and Gramps called the soul-crushing workload paying one’s dues. In the beginning, sure. But Elias was no longer fresh from law school. Dad occasionally called him a partner in front of clients, but when they were alone, Elias was nothing more than the firm’s worker bee. The pay was good, but money no longer held the same appeal as say…happiness.
“What do you need now?” Elias’s resigned tone brought a cringe.Ugh. He didn’t want to turn into a whiny complainer, but fighting the bone-weary exhaustion was…well, exhausting.
He’d once eyed his luxurious office filled with leather wingback chairs, mahogany cabinets, bookcases, and desk with pride. Now, the room was nothing more than a well-appointed prison cell.
Dad’s lips slanted into a thin, disapproving line. That only happened on the rare occasions Elias failed to do as told with no questions asked. “You must represent the law firm on the Winter Extravaganza committee.”
Must.
No question mark at the end.
Not even aplease.
Again, typical.
Bob Cratchit had survived until Christmas. Elias might not. He eyed the Advent calendar. Doors two to seven looked mighty tempting.
“The proceeds benefit local nonprofits,” Dad added as if not everyone in town had been talking about the fundraiser.
Well, everyone at Brew and Steep. The coffee shop on his way to work had been the only place Elias visited this week.
“I know what the Extravaganza is, but I don’t have time to volunteer.” The pile of work might as well be sitting on top of his chest. Breathing took more effort. “Besides, Gramps and Grammy are on it. Grammy told me they attended a few meetings before Thanksgiving.”
Something flashed on Dad’s face. Not panic, more like concern. Dad drove him hard, but despite Elias’s complaints tonight, Dad was a good guy. Better than most other fathers in town. But worry wasn’t an emotion often displayed toward Elias, because he never gave him a reason to worry. That suggested this involved someone else. Most likely his grandparents.
Elias had loosened his tie thirty minutes ago, but his collar tightened. He forced himself not to tug at it or unbutton the top. Show no weakness had been ingrained in him at a young age. “Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong.” Dad licked his lips, an unfamiliar gesture that made Elias hold his breath. “Your grandmother had a doctor’s appointment today to review test results. There’s…an issue.”
