Chapter 2

Wade followed his new boss and her sons out the door at 4:30 that afternoon and drove back to his motel, three blocks from the diner, in a daze. He had yet to stop grinning when, several moments later, he called home.

“I found them.”

His father put him on the speakerphone. It was his mother who responded to Wade’s remark. “Honestly, Wade, you can’t simply traipse off to the wilds of Texas—”

Wade broke out laughing. “You say that like it’s the middle of the Sahara Desert.” He could almost see one of her fiercest frowns; his mother was a champion frowner.

“It might as well be,” she complained. “Texas, for God’s sake.” “Texas has been very good to us,” he reminded her. “We have two

productive printing plants in Fort Worth and a profitable shopping mall in Houston.”

“That doesn’t mean I want my only son there,” his mother said tersely. “You know it hasn’t been that long since—”

“Mother,” he interrupted. “It’s been two years since my transplant, I’m in excellent health, my doctor says there’s no problem with my taking a trip and I’m here. It’s a done deal.”

“I’m sure if I knew how you discovered the name of your donor, I would not approve. Neither would the medical community.”

“Relax.” If he’d been in the room with her, he’d have dropped a light kiss on his mother’s forehead. Instead, he chuckled. “I did nothing illegal. Mostly it involved reading the paper and looking at a few police reports. Public records.”

“You know who your donor was.” His father wasn’t about to let Wade make his case without his input. “Why did you need to go to Texas at all?”

“I need to know more than just his name. I need to know what kind of man he was.”

“I don’t see why,” his mother said tersely. “What are you going to do if you find out he was…unsavory?”

Wade and his father burst out laughing. Either of them would have used a harsher word, but Myrna Harrison did not, would not, under threat of death, allow anything approaching a swear word to pass her lips.

Wade grinned. “Maybe I’ll start being unsavory, too, and blame it on him.”

His mother tsked. “This is about that comment you made when you woke up from surgery.”

“Two points for Mother,” he said.

“There’s no need for sarcasm. I thought we decided months ago that your comment about ‘the boys’ meant nothing.”

“You decided,” he said. “I met them.”

“Met who?” his mother demanded. “The boys?”

“Yes.” He still felt the sense of awe swelling in his chest, just like when he’d first seen them in the diner’s kitchen.

“Wade, no,” his mother protested. “You didn’t go up to those boys and tell them who you are.”

“Would you give me a little credit? As far as they’re concerned, I’m just the new dishwasher.”

“The what?” His father’s voice, finally. “That’s my other news. I took a job today.”

A long silence stretched from New York to Texas and back again. Then suddenly both of his parents spoke at once.

“A what?”

“Washing dishes? You don’t know how to wash dishes.” “Hush, Myrna,” his father said. “Son, explain yourself.”

He told them how he came to be working for the mother of the boys he’d come to find.

“Well, for heaven’s sake,” his mother said. “When can we expect you home?”

“Home?” The question gave Wade a jolt, and it shouldn’t have. That told him how affected he was by meeting Ben and Tate McCormick. He hadn’t even thought of going home. He’d thought of nothing but the boys since he’d entered the diner and saw their mother.

Well, okay, he’d thought of other things, too. A pair of deep blue eyes— Dixie’s. And dishpan hands—his.

“Yes,” his mother said. “You remember home, don’t you? New York?

That place where you live?”

“Very funny,” he responded. “But don’t leave the light on for me. I’m going to spend some time here, check things out.”

“Things?” his father asked. “You’ve seen the boys in question. I assume they were fine. Case closed.”

“They seem fine, yes.” Wade felt inexplicable anger at the thought of leaving Tribute and returning to New York. The feeling wasn’t rational, he knew, but it was there. “I just want to stick around long enough to make sure. Besides, I don’t want to walk out on the diner, on my job, without giving some notice.”

“A pitiful excuse,” his mother said in the same tone she might have used when asking if that was a skunk she was smelling. “What dishwasher ever gave notice when quitting?”

“This one,” Wade said. “Relax, Mom. Remember that last birthday I had? It was my thirty-sixth. I’m a big boy. I know how to think for myself.” He hoped his smile came through in his voice. He wouldn’t hurt his mother’s feelings for the world. Even when she did try to treat him like a kid.

“You never told us what the boys are like,” his father reminded him.

“I don’t know,” he said, hedging, not sure what to say. “I only saw them for a couple of minutes.”

“You,” his father said, “who once deduced that the Carrington chain of movie theaters would be a bad investment after three minutes with the CEO, and you cannot tell what two young boys are like?”

“I didn’t have several million dollars riding on what I thought of them.

They seemed like good kids, smart, funny. You know—kids,” Wade responded. “I know next to nothing about kids.”

“But you know they’re healthy?” “They appear to be.”

“They’re clothed, have plenty to eat, go to school?” Wade sighed. “Yes.”

“Then, I would say your mission has been accomplished.” As head of the family and the corporation, Jeffery Harrison was used to being obeyed. It came through in his voice when he added, “So you can come home now with a clear mind.”

“The last I heard,” Wade said, “the company was doing great in the capable hands of my sisters. I’m not needed at home.”

“You’re not needed in Texas, either,” his mother said sharply.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Wade said easily, despite the tension starting to tighten his gut. “I’m needed to wash dishes at Dixie’s Diner.”

“Wade—”

“Look.” He cut off his mother. “I’m fine, I’ve got all my meds with me.

Tell yourselves I’ve gone on a much-needed vacation if that helps. I’m going to hang around here for a while.” He wouldn’t ask if that was all right with them, because it was his decision, not theirs.

It was silent for a long moment, then his mother sighed heavily. “I’m sure dinner is almost ready, so we’ll let you go. For now,” she added darkly.

“I love you, Mother. You, too, Dad. Give my love to the girls,” he added.

After a couple more rounds of “love you” and “miss you” and “call soon,” they finally ended the call.

Wade fell back onto the bed in his motel room with a groan. He loved his family, but, Lord, they could drive him nuts. Especially since his surgery. He understood that they were still frightened for him, worried about him, and probably always would be. He’d been within hours of dying the night of his heart transplant.

This was the first time he’d been away from home since then. They couldn’t fuss over him. Couldn’t take care of him. Couldn’t watch him take his pills. Couldn’t nag him about exercising. “Do it, but don’t overdo it.”

He was gathering the energy to sit up when his stomach growled.

He laughed. He’d been in a diner all day and hadn’t eaten. Now he had to find himself a meal. There were several other places to eat along the mile-long stretch of Main Street; he’d noticed them when he drove in to town that morning. He would walk. He needed the exercise.

Part of his medication consisted of a steroid that helped prevent his body from rejecting the new heart, but it also, among other things, softened his bones. To combat that, he spent a portion of every day doing weight- bearing exercises. Everything from walking to running to weight lifting. If he was to stay in Tribute for more than a few days, he would need to find a way to work out with weights.

Wade had imagined that the days in Texas would be warm, and this one was. Being more than a hundred miles from the gulf, he’d figured that the air would be on the dry side. On that he’d been mistaken. By the time he walked to the end of Main and crossed the street to return on the other side, his shirt was sticking to his back.