Page 127 of The High Tide Club
“No!” Brooke said. “Stop it right this minute.”
“Excuse me?” the clerk said.
“Sorry, I was talking to my son. Just print out the receipt and put it in thebag, please,” Brooke said through clenched teeth. She released Henry’s hand to retrieve her card.
Henry saw an opening and seized it. He grabbed the book with both hands. “Mine!”
Without thinking, she snatched the book back. She knelt down so that she was at eye level with her son. “Absolutely not. You have this exact same book at home, and I am not buying you another one.”
She stood up and tried to compose herself. Another wave of passengers was passing. She saw a familiar face in the crowd. It was Pete, striding down the concourse, one arm flung casually across the shoulder of a young blond woman. She was in her midtwenties, slender and petite with a long Nordic-looking braid cascading down her back. She wore form-fitting green hiking shorts and had a backpack over one shoulder. Pete leaned in, laughing and talking with her.
Brooke felt herself shrink away from the gift shop entrance. She wanted to flee, to melt into the woodwork. As soon as Pete and his friend had passed, she tugged gently at her son’s hand. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go home.”
“Nooooooo!” Henry wailed, throwing himself onto the floor. He grabbed the book and hugged it to his chest. “I want Caillou! I want it, I want it!” His face was scarlet with rage. She bent over and tried to pry the book away. “Noooooo!” he screamed, kicking his tiny feet at her ankles.
Brooke saw Pete pause. He turned, said something to his female companion, and frowned, looking to see where the commotion was coming from. His eyes met hers. People surged around him, but Pete Haynes stopped dead in his tracks.
54
He strode toward the gift shop. Stopped, then wrapped Brooke in an awkward embrace. “I’m so glad you showed up,” he murmured in her ear. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I wasn’t sure either,” Brooke said, her voice shaky. “It’s been so long. But I’m really glad you called.” She saw the woman who’d been walking with Pete, standing discreetly nearby, watching their reunion with undisguised interest.
Sensing he’d lost his audience, Henry abandoned his tantrum, stood and raised his arms. “Mama. I pick you up.”
Brooke took a step backward and scooped her son into her arms.
“Who’s this?” Pete asked warily.
“Pete, this is my son, Henry. Henry, can you say hello to Pete?”
Henry turned away, burying his face in her shoulder.
“Hi, Henry,” Pete said, lightly tapping the boy’s back. “How old are you?”
Henry lifted his head and observed the stranger, his expression grave. He held out three chubby fingers. “I’m fwee.”
“Obviously, we’ve got some catching up to do,” Pete said.
“Who’s your friend?” Brooke asked, gesturing toward the girl who was now slouching against a nearby wall.
“That’s Hope, a grad student I’ve been working with. Hey, Hope,” he called. “C’mere. There’s somebody I want you to meet.”
“Hello,” the young woman said, offering a wide smile showing perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth. “You’ve got to be Brooke. Pete’s told me so much about you.”
“Great to meet you, Hope,” Brooke said. “This is my son, Henry, who was doing his best howler monkey impression a minute ago.”
“Oooh, Henry, is that Curious George on your shirt? I used to love him, and the man with the yellow hat.”
Henry peeped shyly at the girl, nodded, then turned his head and hid again. Hope’s face registered a flicker of recognition as she looked from Henry to Pete.
“Okay, well, uh, Pete, I’m going to hit the ladies’ room and then maybe find a magazine for the ride to Miami. I’ll let you two have some private time together,” Hope said.
“Thanks. How about we meet outside at noon?”
“I’ll see you there. Bye, Brooke. Bye, Henry.”
***
