The Cliff House. RaeAnne Thayne

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      BEATRIZ

      “Do you really think Dad is okay?”

      Bea tried not to think about those tabloid photos or the man with the blood seeping out of his gut.

      “Yes, honey. I do,” she assured her daughter. “He said so himself when he called that first night, and his manager swears he only needed a few days to process what happened before he returns to his regular activities.”

      “Where do you think he might be?” In the rearview mirror, she caught Mari’s frown in the back seat of her SUV.

      That one was harder to answer. “I’m not sure. Maybe with his extended relatives down in Mexico or at the island he likes off Panama. He’ll be in touch.”

      “He should be answering his phone. It’s irresponsible of him not to. He has to know I’ll worry about him.”

      Sometimes she thought Mari was born sounding about Stella’s age.

      “You know he’ll be in touch as soon as he can, honey.”

      She was annoyed all over again at Cruz for not considering the impact on his daughter of the highly publicized attack against him. How hard would it be for him to make a freaking phone call to assure their child he was okay?

      Then again, he had never been particularly good at checking in with her when they were married and he was touring. Why should he change his habits for their child?

      When they returned to the house she had moved into along the coast road after her divorce, the lights were on out by the pool.

      “Looks like Shane is swimming!” Mari said. “Can I go out and swim, too?”

      She might have guessed he would be there, probably with his sweet yellow Labrador retriever, Sally, either playing in the water with him or lounging on the side.

      Her elaborate pool with its secret grotto, waterfalls and high-tech hot tub had become his favorite part of living in the guesthouse. Just a few nights earlier, he told her the pool would be the thing he missed most when the renovations to his own house were finished.

      She still wasn’t sure why that had stung so much.

      “He might not be there much longer. We don’t know how long he’s already been in the pool. But I don’t mind if he doesn’t. Go ahead and change into your suit.”

      “I’ll hurry. I can go fast. Come on, Jojo,” she said, already racing for the door with their little dog scampering along behind her.

      Mari, like everyone else in town, adored Shane. Bea had gone with him to enough restaurants or community events to see how people in town respected Shane. Everybody wanted to talk to him, to tell him about their son or nephew or grandson who was on his team, to shake his hand and tell him thanks for all he had done for the town and to wish him well on bringing home the state championship again.

      After the shoulder injuries that ended his glowing NFL career, Shane could have thrown a serious pity party. Instead, he had moved home to be with his father during Bill Landry’s final two years and spent six months of that time finishing his teaching certificate to go with the biology degree he earned playing college ball.

      He could have taken a position on a major university football staff and possibly worked his way up to a Division One head coach. She knew he’d had offers. Good ones. Instead, he was choosing to make his home here in this little town on the Northern California coast, teaching freshman and sophomore biology and coaching a ragtag group of kids.

      Feeling restless for reasons she couldn’t identify, Bea headed to the vast master suite, which she slept in alone, to change into her swimming suit.

      Since Shane had moved into the guesthouse two months earlier, something had changed between them and she wasn’t sure what it was or how to fix it.

      They used to be best friends. She used to be able to talk СКАЧАТЬ