“I’m aware of that,” he said. “I’m planning to hold off until after the holidays.”

“But the holidays are the busiest.”

“I don’t have time to interview, Ed. And I don’t have time to train anyone. Just yank the ad, okay?”

“Does that mean you’re pulling it from Craigslist, too?”

“Of course.” He was walking to his computer to do that this very second.

“I’ll take care of it. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Another call was coming in. Ted said goodbye and switched over. He wasn’t getting any writing done, anyway. “Hello?”

“Ted?”

It was his mother, Rayma, who’d raised him as a single parent after his father left them for his female law partner. He and his mother had moved to Whiskey Creek from affluent Atherton, south of San Francisco, when he was three years old and she was offered the position of vice-principal at the elementary school. She was principal now, and had been for twenty years, but recently she’d been talking about retiring and moving back to the Bay Area to be closer to her mother and sisters.

“What’s up, Mom?”

“Rough day,” she said. “Since when do sixth-grade students bring guns to school?”

“A twelve-year-old showed up with a gun?”

“The nephew of those trashy people in the river bottoms. Carl Inera and his clan.”

“Drugs have a lot to do with Carl’s situation.”

“Chief Stacy said the same thing.”

“So...what? Are you planning to retire even earlier than we talked about?”

“No. Nothing’s changed there.”

“Something’s different. You don’t normally call me while you’re at work.”

“Mrs. Vaughn over at the middle school wanted me to hit you up for a donation.”

“For what? You usually reserve my resources for your own school.”

“She’s aware of how much you’ve done here and hoped you might see your way clear to helping over there, too.”

“What do they need?”

“They’re raising funds for a new gymnasium.”

How could he say no? The school system had provided the job that’d enabled his mother to make a living and provide for him. And with the way schools were hurting these days, he helped out whenever he could.

“How much?” he asked.

“Could you do $10,000?”

“That’s not exactly pocket change, Mom.”

“Is it too much?”

He considered his bank account; he could afford it. “No, I’ll do it.”

“I’m proud of the man you’ve become, of your accomplishments. I hope you know that.”

He smiled. “What are you talking about? You don’t even like my books.”

“All that murder...it’s too graphic for me, but I can appreciate your talent.”

“I’m glad. Because I’m proud of you, too,” he said, and it was true.

“Have you seen Sophia since the funeral?”

He’d been heading to the window overlooking the same river that ran past Carl Inera’s shack some miles away. But at this, he froze. “No. Why would I?”

“Just checking.”

His mother was an attractive, strong, capable woman. Unfortunately, she was also highly opinionated and often stuck her nose in his business, which he didn’t appreciate. “You mean you’re worried that I might take up with her again now that she’s available.”

“I remember how much you loved her.”

“Loved, past tense, being the key word. There isn’t much I even respect about her these days.”

“But let’s face it. You’re a sucker for a damsel in distress. And she’s attractive. I can’t deny that. Please don’t feel you have to swoop in and save her from her misdeeds, though.”

There was so much he wanted to respond to in what she’d said he hardly knew where to start. “You believe she’s to blame for what Skip did?”

“She’s the one who married him to begin with. I thought she was certifiable at the time. Just like her mother.”

Ted winced. “That’s kind of a low blow, don’t you think? She can’t help that her mother has mental problems. Even her mom can’t help that.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve never liked Sophia, and I’ve never made any secret of it.”

He scratched his neck. “Because you were afraid I’d marry her before completing my degree.”

“And because her values are all screwed up.”

“How do you know she hasn’t changed? Grown up?” God, he was sounding like some of his friends. Only his mother could push him to the other side of an argument that easily. He loved her, but they were too much alike—both of them opinionated, take-charge people.

“It’s obvious.”

“A lot of people choose the wrong marriage partner.”

Although he hadn’t meant to imply anything about her own decision to marry his father, the silence that followed indicated she’d taken it that way.

He opened his mouth to clarify, but she spoke before he could. “At least I didn’t marry for money,” she said. “And it’s how she went about getting engaged. Leading you on while she was seeing Skip on the side. She agreed to marry him before she broke things off with you. We were almost the last to know!”

“Sophia and I were young. I was away at school so we could only see each other on weekends, and with all my extracurricular activities, even those visits were few and far between. Anyway, she was pregnant and probably felt trapped. And it’s time to let go of the past.” He was glad Callie couldn’t hear him now....

“You’re defending her?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “No, of course not. Just trying to keep it all in perspective. We were together for a couple of years almost a decade and a half ago. That’s long enough to carry a grudge.”

“I don’t care how long it’s been. Her character is flawed, and you need to remember that when she sets her sights on you again.”

“How do you know she’ll try to get me back?”

“She needs money, and I’m sure it hasn’t escaped her notice that you’re now a wealthy novelist. I’d like to see you get married, but I don’t want you to end up with her. She caused you enough heartache the first time.”

“You’re being overprotective again. I’m an adult and perfectly capable of making my own decisions, thank you. Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. I haven’t seen her and I don’t plan on seeing her.”

“Good.”

Before he could respond, someone entered her office—he could hear it in the background—and she had to go. Which was fine by him. That interruption might’ve prevented an argument. Although Rayma wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already believe, he didn’t like her talking about Sophia.

His mother should’ve remarried and had other kids, he thought. Then she would’ve had to spread her attention around.

Determined to finish his pages for the day, he decided he’d get hold of his agent later and returned to the computer. But when he clicked over to check his email, as he often did before starting, he found a message that was being forwarded all over Whiskey Creek. Several of Skip’s investors were trying to connect with others so they could band together and meet Sophia tomorrow night to talk about how they might recoup some of their losses. They mentioned the two Ferraris and how much they were worth. The Mercedes that Sophia drove. The art and sculptures in the house. When someone piped up to say that Skip had probably taken out loans against it all, another member of the group mentioned Sophia’s clothes and jewelry.

Ted told himself to stay out of it. He hadn’t invested, so this didn’t pertain to him. But the idea of everyone ganging up on her bothered him enough that he called Kyle.

“Are you planning to attend the meeting with Sophia about her remaining ‘assets’?” he asked.

“No,” Kyle replied. “I don’t want to take what little she still has. Her husband screwed her over. How’s piling on going to make things better for any of us?”

“What about Noah? Will he be going?”

“I doubt it. He doesn’t hold her responsible for what Skip did any more than I do.”

Ted’s mood improved after he hung up. His friends weren’t party to the next evening’s plans. But the image of Sophia being confronted by twenty or thirty angry men demanding her clothes and jewelry troubled him for the rest of the day.