“Of course.” Jack solemnly signed the document on the top. With a stroke of his pen, he was Leo’s legal father.
Vanessa took the paper. “You’ll be added to Leo’s birth certificate.”
“I am deeply honored,” Jack said, pressing a hand to his chest. He meant it with every fiber of his being.
“John has agreed to act as executor of my estate.” Vanessa spoke in a straightforward manner. Her voice gained strength—as if she had stored up energy to draw on for this critical task. “And that is the trust I’ve set up for Leo. His education and living expenses will be provided.”
“Vanessa, I appreciate that, but I can support my son. I’m looking for a house I can rent, so Leo will have a room ready. Everything you leave him will go toward his education and his future.”
“I thought you’d say that. But just in case you become unemployed or suffer an accident or illness, the trust will provide for Leo. And you, too.” Vanessa smiled.
Jack shook his head. “I’ll manage. I have a fair amount tucked away. I’ve had no mortgage or expensive cars or habits. I’ve worked so much that I didn’t have time to spend what I made.”
Vanessa sipped her tea thoughtfully. “My parents and their grandparents were quite comfortable. Well to do, you might say. Leo’s trust is not inconsequential, and it will require management. Once my estate is closed, you’ll become the trustee. I have a financial adviser I have worked with for years, and I’ll introduce you to her. She’ll manage the portfolio, but you’ll make the final decisions.”
“As you wish, Vanessa.” Jack ran a hand across the back of his neck, trying to relieve the tightness drawing up his muscles. This conversation wasn’t one he wanted to have. Yet even as he prayed for a miracle for Vanessa, he had to listen and accept the responsibility. For Vanessa and Leo.
“Now, as for my house in Santa Monica, the paintings, and all my personal effects, Denise has agreed to sort and settle everything. We’ve known each other so long, and she knows which family items I want Leo to have.”
Vanessa’s parents had collected high-end Mexican art. Although they’d donated works by Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, and Rufino Tamayo to a museum in Los Angeles, Vanessa had kept paintings that had special meaning to her.
His heart aching, Jack gulped his tea. His throat felt constricted, and the warm, fragrant tea helped. “You’ve been thorough, and I appreciate it. I know how difficult this is for you.”
“Actually, I feel better that my affairs are settled. I want you to feel like you can spend a lot of time with Leo and not have to work as much. He will need a lot of counseling, patience, and hugs. Scout is good for him, too.” Vanessa hesitated. “Jack, I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way. I know how you are about certain things.”
“You can say anything to me.” Jack put his hand over hers.
“Leo talks a lot about Marina. He and Samantha say that the two of you are boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Jack laughed softly. “They ask a lot of questions. But I’m afraid that’s wishful thinking on their part. Under the circumstances, that’s a difficult call.”
Vanessa twirled the end of her scarf as she studied him. “I want you to know that I like Marina. She’s kind, and I’ve watched her with Leo. He likes her a lot.”
“A lot of people like Leo, and he’s an outgoing kid. You raised him so well that I won’t have much to do.”
Vanessa laughed. “I hope you don’t really believe that. But I want you to know what I think about Marina. Should you ever want to get—”
“Hold it right there,” Jack said, holding up a hand. “Leo is my top priority. I don’t need a wife or even a relationship. Don’t even go there.” Just listening to Vanessa, his heart was already wounded enough for one day. He stood abruptly. “More tea?”
A slow smile gathered on Vanessa’s face. “We’re finished here. I’m so glad we had a chance to put things in order.”
She glanced through an open door. “Let’s have more tea on the patio by the fountain, and I’ll tell you about what I’ve learned about the schools in Summer Beach. And if you’re hungry, Denise brought home a loaf of Marina’s rosemary bread from the farmers market. She says it’s delicious with cheese and pâté. She left grapes and apples in the refrigerator, too. Please help yourself. And will you return for supper? Leo would like that.”
“Sure,” Jack said. He didn’t want to disappoint Leo.
After their conversation, Jack didn’t have much of an appetite, but he gathered bread and cheese and fruit on a plate, hoping that Vanessa might pick at it. As he guided her outside, he couldn’t help thinking about what she’d said about Marina.
After Jack left Vanessa’s cottage, he needed to clear his mind before meeting with Ginger about the children’s book they were working on together. He stopped to pick up Scout, who’d been in Jack’s room at the Seabreeze Inn. Ivy and Shelly had been kind to let Scout stay there, but it wasn’t a place for an active dog.
As he walked through the yard, he could hear shrill barks from the old beach house, where the tall doors usually stood open to the cool sea breezes. Sounds like Pixie, he thought, a Chihuahua that had a reputation for being a kleptomaniac.
Suddenly, a stocky, silver-haired man barged through a rear door. A woman with short, spiky pink hair raced to grab Pixie, who seemed intent on chasing the man from the house. Jack waved to Gilda, a long-term Seabreeze Inn guest. She scooped up Pixie and rolled her eyes.
Jack wondered what that was all about. He opened the door to his room and whistled. “Come on, boy. Let’s go to the beach.”
Scout leapt at the word beach, his tongue flopping from the side of his mouth, which stretched into what everyone swore was a grin. Jack liked to think that, too. He knelt and rubbed his hands around the silky golden ruff of Scout’s neck and scratched him behind the ears.
“We’re going to have to get a bigger place, old boy. With enough room for you and Leo. Bet you’ll like that.”
Scout cocked his head as if he were taking this in.
Jack snapped a leash onto the dog’s collar and led him from the room. Outside, the stocky man that Pixie had banished brushed past him on the walkway, causing him to nearly trample Shelly’s freshly planted, yellow hibiscus.
“Watch it there, bud,” Jack said, pulling up Scout.
“Keep your mutt on a leash,” the man muttered. “Too many dogs around here.”
“Welcome to Summer Beach,” Jack shot back with sarcasm. “Should’ve checked your attitude before landing here.”
The man stalked away. And went into the room next to Jack’s.
“What a jerk. Had to be right next to us.” The investigative reporter side of Jack went on high alert. Something about the guy was disturbing, and he didn’t seem to fit in at the beach. He looked and acted more like a slick mobster from Chicago or New York. It wasn’t any of Jack’s business, but he’d still keep an eye on the guy.
Glancing up at the apartment above the garage, he saw the balcony doors to Bennett’s unit standing open. Swept on the ocean breeze, the sound of Bennett’s guitar and his soft song reached him. Jack enjoyed listening to him.