The Surprise Holiday Dad by Jacqueline Diamond Read Free Book Online Page A

her except that she’d met Bruce while he was stationed in her country and had died when their son was in college. The official story was that she’d awakened late at night, tripped on the staircase, fallen and hit her head. The unofficial story, from Daryl, was that due to her unhappy marriage, she’d taken to drink, which had contributed to the accident.
    Alcoholism ran deep in this family. It had skipped Bruce, although he had his own compulsion: chain-smoking. Apparently he’d quit, though, since the place no longer reeked of tobacco.
    Wade settled on a polite greeting. “You look well.”
    “I look dirty and smell worse.” His grandfather started up the steps. “Help yourself to coffee. There’s no beer.”
    At 10:00 a.m.? The old man was assuming the worst, but Wade didn’t bother to correct him. “Thanks.”
    He took his coffee black in a souvenir mug from Catalina Island. From a day trip with the girlfriend, perhaps? Over the buffet in the dining room, Wade studied the array of framed photos, hoping for a glimpse of the new lady, but these were all familiar faces.
    Grandma Karlotta had sad eyes and old-fashioned braids wrapped around her head. A young black-haired Bruce stood stiffly erect in his blue dress marine uniform. Daryl at about the same age sported a combat utility uniform, better known as camouflage. At his college graduation, Wade posed in mortarboard and gown. There was no picture of Wade’s mother.
    Upstairs the shower ran for about a minute, followed by a brief fit of coughing. It ended quickly and sounded less alarming than in the old days.
    Bruce descended within minutes, his pants and shirt pressed, his hair slick. “Guess you’ve got some news for me,” he said without preamble.
    How much had he heard via the grapevine? “About my son?” Wade asked.
    The old man’s nostrils flared. “The one you abandoned.”
    How typical of him to state that as fact rather than a question. “No, I didn’t. His mother threatened to file false abuse charges. She was...troubled.” Wade saw no reason to go into detail. “I’ve been paying child support.”
    Bruce’s scowl eased. “Glad to hear you aren’t a deadbeat.”
    And I’d have appreciated your not assuming the worst. Wade hadn’t come here to fight, however. “I figured you might like to meet your great-grandson once I get visitation squared away with his aunt.”
    “His aunt?” From the refrigerator, Bruce took out a glass bottle of orange juice. “You’re his father. Don’t be a weakling. Take your son and tell her to get lost.”
    Wade hung on to his temper. “I’ll handle this my way.”
    “Suit yourself.” Bruce poured juice into a glass. “Yeah, I’d like to meet the little guy, whenever this aunt snaps her fingers and gives you permission.”
    “I’m here to make peace, but that isn’t going to happen if you keep insulting me.” Wade poured the remaining half of his coffee in the sink. It was decaf anyway.
    Avoiding his gaze, his grandfather peered at a framed California Angels team photo on the wall. It bore half a dozen signatures from the players. “You tossed off a few insults of your own the last time we met.”
    Had he? “Such as?”
    “Called me a rent-a-cop, for one thing,” Bruce snarled.
    “Sorry about that.” Wade had lashed out in the heat of the moment.
    “Your apology is too late.” Resentment that must have been festering all this time blazed from his grandfather’s face. “I had to sell the agency I spent years building because my son’s a drunk and my grandson holds me in contempt.”
    Behind the anger, Wade sensed the hurt. “I don’t hold you in contempt. And you never told me the future of the agency was on the line.”
    “I shouldn’t have had to.”
    “I’m not a mind reader,” Wade said. “Now I’d like to let bygones be bygones.”
    “Why? Because you need a job?” Bruce fired back. “Guess you’re not too proud to be a rent-a-cop now.”
    “Guess I’m