more disgraceful than his desk at the paper, held a computer, a stereoand mountains of files. The screen saver floating across the computer monitor was X-rated.
“Charming,” she remarked.
“I never said I wasn’t a sexist pig.” He walked over to the tiny kitchen, separated from the living area by a counter with two stools. “What can I get you? Tea? Coffee? I make great—” He broke off. “How about tea?”
“Fine,” she said.
He banged around in the kitchen, hollering as he put on water. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” She wandered slowly around the room. The personal items intrigued her. There was a picture of Jack as a young boy sitting on the tailgate of a pickup truck. He had one arm around a laughing mongrel dog and his long, bare legs dangled almost to the ground.
Good Lord, she thought. Jack Riley had been a beautiful boy.
There was a picture of his parents, looking very loving and salt-of-the-earth against a backdrop of rolling hills. And a photo of a dark-haired girl; it was a cheap studio portrait, but she exuded a fresh-faced beauty that even the yellowing photo paper couldn’t dim.
Feeling an unaccountable stab of discomfort, Madeleine moved on to the next framed item—a diploma from the University of Texas. He had graduated magna cum laude.
“You never said you were from Texas,” she called out.
“Never said I wasn’t,” he called back.
“And who’s the girl?”
There was a second of dead silence. Then he said, “Her name was Annie.”
Madeleine felt a sudden chill. “‘Was’?”
“Yeah. She, uh, died young. It’s been six years.”
Madeleine closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, shakily. “Tell me it gets easier.”
He poked his head around the corner of the kitchenette. “It gets easier.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” She looked at a few badly hung certificates of appreciation. Apparently Jack Riley was a professional do-gooder. He had made a second career out of working with underprivileged youths.
He set a mug on the counter and filled it with tea. Without asking, he added a spoonful of sugar and handed her the mug.
“How did you know I take my tea with sugar?” she asked.
“Must be because you’re so sweet,” he said.
“Right. No, really—”
“‘One sugar, no milk, Benny,’” he said, doing a wicked imitation of her order from the snack cart that came through the offices of the paper.
She laughed and sat down on a soft plaid sofa. “All right, Riley. You obviously think you have my number. How about starting at the beginning?”
He sat down next to her on the sofa. In the low light of a table lamp, he looked slightly less disreputable than usual. Discounting the slobbish attire and cocky attitude, he might almost be handsome.
“Either you’re real good at pretending, lady, or you really are in the dark about all this.”
“Have you ever known me to lie?”
“Only to spare my feelings.” His admission was swift. “That’s why I’m going to play along with you. It all started years ago when your father was still running the paper. I submitted a free-lance article. He liked it and he wanted to meet me. We hit it off, and I came to work for the paper.”
Her father had always had a knack for finding talent. “I didn’t even know my father knew you.” She frowned. That was her one regret. She had never bothered with the paper until after her father was gone.
“We had an unusual arrangement, your old man and I.”
“What sort of arrangement?”
“I was never too demanding in the salary department.”
“I noticed. Is there a reason for that?”
“I took a small salary and the Santiago Youth Center got a huge grant.”
She glanced at the faded beauty that had been Annie. “Does this have something to do with her, Jack?”
“In a way, yeah.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “You’re a hell of a perceptive woman, Madeleine.”
“What happened?”
He gazed at the photo, a faraway hurt in his eyes. “She
“Charming,” she remarked.
“I never said I wasn’t a sexist pig.” He walked over to the tiny kitchen, separated from the living area by a counter with two stools. “What can I get you? Tea? Coffee? I make great—” He broke off. “How about tea?”
“Fine,” she said.
He banged around in the kitchen, hollering as he put on water. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” She wandered slowly around the room. The personal items intrigued her. There was a picture of Jack as a young boy sitting on the tailgate of a pickup truck. He had one arm around a laughing mongrel dog and his long, bare legs dangled almost to the ground.
Good Lord, she thought. Jack Riley had been a beautiful boy.
There was a picture of his parents, looking very loving and salt-of-the-earth against a backdrop of rolling hills. And a photo of a dark-haired girl; it was a cheap studio portrait, but she exuded a fresh-faced beauty that even the yellowing photo paper couldn’t dim.
Feeling an unaccountable stab of discomfort, Madeleine moved on to the next framed item—a diploma from the University of Texas. He had graduated magna cum laude.
“You never said you were from Texas,” she called out.
“Never said I wasn’t,” he called back.
“And who’s the girl?”
There was a second of dead silence. Then he said, “Her name was Annie.”
Madeleine felt a sudden chill. “‘Was’?”
“Yeah. She, uh, died young. It’s been six years.”
Madeleine closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, shakily. “Tell me it gets easier.”
He poked his head around the corner of the kitchenette. “It gets easier.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” She looked at a few badly hung certificates of appreciation. Apparently Jack Riley was a professional do-gooder. He had made a second career out of working with underprivileged youths.
He set a mug on the counter and filled it with tea. Without asking, he added a spoonful of sugar and handed her the mug.
“How did you know I take my tea with sugar?” she asked.
“Must be because you’re so sweet,” he said.
“Right. No, really—”
“‘One sugar, no milk, Benny,’” he said, doing a wicked imitation of her order from the snack cart that came through the offices of the paper.
She laughed and sat down on a soft plaid sofa. “All right, Riley. You obviously think you have my number. How about starting at the beginning?”
He sat down next to her on the sofa. In the low light of a table lamp, he looked slightly less disreputable than usual. Discounting the slobbish attire and cocky attitude, he might almost be handsome.
“Either you’re real good at pretending, lady, or you really are in the dark about all this.”
“Have you ever known me to lie?”
“Only to spare my feelings.” His admission was swift. “That’s why I’m going to play along with you. It all started years ago when your father was still running the paper. I submitted a free-lance article. He liked it and he wanted to meet me. We hit it off, and I came to work for the paper.”
Her father had always had a knack for finding talent. “I didn’t even know my father knew you.” She frowned. That was her one regret. She had never bothered with the paper until after her father was gone.
“We had an unusual arrangement, your old man and I.”
“What sort of arrangement?”
“I was never too demanding in the salary department.”
“I noticed. Is there a reason for that?”
“I took a small salary and the Santiago Youth Center got a huge grant.”
She glanced at the faded beauty that had been Annie. “Does this have something to do with her, Jack?”
“In a way, yeah.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “You’re a hell of a perceptive woman, Madeleine.”
“What happened?”
He gazed at the photo, a faraway hurt in his eyes. “She
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