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Lucas shouldn’t let the kid get to him. Was he reading too much into things, or was the kid unhappy? Surely if he were, his mom would do whatever was needed to address the situation. Maybe Lucas should talk to her, surreptitiously figure out if the espresso machine might help. Maybe he should just tell her about her son’s plan.
He stirred sugar into his coffee and frowned as the woman jerked. Something in her expression, in the way she startled like that, brought back memories of Toby. Lucas’s stomach clenched. Was she experiencing a flashback or did everything remind him of Toby these days?
He should pretend he hadn’t noticed, walk back to his office and finish payroll, or maybe have a quick nap. He hadn’t slept the past few nights, not since that visit to Toby’s grave and the confrontation with his friend’s sister. All the more reason to avoid Grey’s mom.
The familiar heaviness filled his chest. He missed Toby.
He glanced again at Grey’s mother. Absolutely, he should avoid her. He had no business butting in to her life, even if he felt for her son. Yet, the memory of the hope on Grey’s face as he eyed the espresso machine carried Lucas between the tables to stand beside her. She blinked, then pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, as if waking.
“Would you like a refill?” He nodded toward her empty cup and cursed himself for not having thought of a better excuse to approach her. Leading with “Your kid thinks an espresso machine will fix things at home” didn’t seem like the best way to go, though.
She’d had her usual espresso earlier, when she’d stopped in with Grey and he’d slipped Lucas a ten-dollar bill, with a conspiratorial nod. Lucas had hated taking the kid’s money, but he would have hated himself more if he hadn’t. Who was he to stomp on the kid’s hopes?
“Actually, that...would be nice,” she said, her brows knotted in uncertainty. She cleared her throat. “I...didn’t realize...you offered refills...on the good stuff.” Her words came out choppy, as though speaking drained her.
“This one’s on me,” he said. “A way of saying thank you for your frequent patronage.”
“Oh,” she said, a tentative smile curving her lips. “That’s nice. I hadn’t realized...do you own this place?”
“Yes.” He stifled a laugh. She’d thought he was an employee. “I needed something to keep me out of trouble.” He grabbed her cup. “I’ll be right back.”
Ken eyed him curiously as he cleaned the filter for her espresso, but when Lucas shrugged, his employee continued his conversation with one of the customers. A few moments later, Lucas delivered the brew as the woman shoved her phone into her bag.
She took the cup with both hands, her fingers trembling. “Thanks, I need this.”
“Having a rough day?” he asked as he perched on the table beside her.
Nodding, she glanced at her monitor. “Freighter is late with a shipment.”
“You’re in shipping?” he asked.
“Strategic sourcing,” she said. “I find the best sources, run analysis, act as a liaison between the customer and shipper and negotiate freights and terms. Only I can’t always get everyone to do as they agreed. Then it gets rough.”
“But you can do it all from the comfort of a coffee shop.” He spread his hands to indicate their surroundings. “Beats working out of an office.”
“Or home,” she said, her voice a whisper as she raised her cup.
“Really? I guess I’d get tired of being cooped up in the house, too.”
“It is nice to be able to work remotely and arrange my schedule around our other activities.”
“You and your son?” he asked.
“Yes, my son, Grey. It’s just the two of us,” she said and cocked her head. “What was that the other morning?”
He frowned. Should he tell her about Grey’s plan? What if he ruined the surprise for no reason? “What was what?”
“He ran back to shake your hand.”
“Oh, that. He was introducing himself. I introduced myself, since the two of you are always in here. I like to get to know all my regulars.” All of that was actually true.
“Oh.” She stared at him a moment, frowning.
He stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Lucas Williams.”
Somehow, she withdrew without moving. He stubbornly left his hand suspended between them. With a sigh, she took it and gave it a surprisingly strong shake. “I’m Claire Murphy.”
“It’s a pleasure, Claire.”
She nodded, her gaze anchored on a spot beyond him, her smile stiff. He felt odd noticing, but she’d be gorgeous if she could just loosen up a little. Her nose was a bit small, her chin slightly crooked, but it worked for her.
He shifted. “That’s a great son you have.”
Her gaze found his. “Yes, Grey’s an incredible kid.”
Lucas stood for a moment as silence fell between them. She crossed her arms and said, “Well, thank you for the refill.”
“You’re welcome.”
He should walk away. The kid and his mother were none of his business. His curiosity about Grey’s reasons for buying the espresso machine again rose, though, and kept him in place.
“Just for the record, is it the robust flavor of our coffee that brings you here every morning, or do you just prefer your coffee on the run?” he asked.
“Both, I suppose.” She raised her cup. “You brew great coffee, but we’re most definitely on the run in the mornings.”
“During the week, at least.”
“Always,” she said, then sipped her espresso.
“Even on the weekends?” He sometimes stopped in at The Coffee Stop Saturday mornings, but always stayed in the back.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “We keep on the go.”
“What about downtime?”
Her gaze drifted to her keyboard. “I don’t believe in downtime.”
“I see,” he said. Poor Grey. No wonder the kid wanted an espresso machine. “Don’t you get tired?”
A dry laugh worked its way from her throat. “I’m always tired.”
“Why not slow things down then, catch up on some rest?”
She straightened in her seat, placing her fingers on the keys. “It wouldn’t make a difference.”
He should stop. She was obviously uncomfortable talking to him about this. He felt as if he’d just uncovered the tip of a very large iceberg, though. Should he tell her about Grey’s surprise?
“So, how’s the shipping business these days? Overall, I mean, other than today’s late freighter,” he asked, in spite of his uncertainty. Maybe she’d be more comfortable talking about her work.
Her eyebrows arched. “Not bad. Things are definitely picking up.”
“I’d think that would be a good indicator for the state of the economy.” He shrugged. “People shipping things means other people are buying them, right?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Do you do this full-time?” He indicated her laptop.
“I do,” she said.
“And do you work regular hours, like a nine-to-five job?” he asked.
He had no idea what he was babbling about, or why he was grilling her. What he really wanted to ask her was if all their running around was good for Grey, because, obviously, Grey didn’t think so. Lucas didn’t know her well enough to go there, though. He still wasn’t sure why he even cared, but the memory of the hope in her son’s eyes kept him where he was.
“Some days. Not always,” she said. She unfolded her arms, though her posture remained stiff. “I teach kickboxing a couple of afternoons a week, so I work around that. It depends on what’s happening. I work on reports some evenings.” She smiled tightly. “Depending on what time we get done with soccer or rock climbing.”
“Wow, sounds like you two do keep pretty busy. And when do you sleep?”
She gestured with her hand. “Oh, sleep is overrated.”
Bingo. She didn’t sleep. Toby had slept all the time. Neither was a good scenario.
He said, “I think sleep is very important.”
Her gaze again drifted out the window beside her. “Well, lots of things are important.”
He nodded. He’d pressed her enough. “I should get back to work.”
Her eyebrows arched again. She checked her laptop monitor then said, “I hadn’t realized it was this late. I need to finish up so I can get to my class.”
“Sure, I didn’t mean to keep you. It was nice chatting with you, Claire. I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yes...thanks...Lucas,” she said and for a moment her gaze caught his.
He thought she might say more, but then her gaze flicked away. Her shoulders rounded as though a weight pressed down on her. An air of loneliness descended on her as she turned back to her laptop.
Lucas headed to his office. Why had he let the kid get to him? Was that really loneliness he sensed in Claire? Or was that loneliness a symptom of something more troubling? As much as he hated to interfere, he felt compelled to help in some way.
Did the kid even want him to? Well, maybe not him, specifically, but someone. Surely, on some level, Grey suspected something was up with his mother.
You could have prevented this.
Maybe Louisa hadn’t been right about Toby. Lucas hadn’t really understood what his friend had been going through then, but now he recognized the signs. He didn’t know Grey and Claire, but he was drawn to them. Maybe it was Claire’s isolation that called to him. Toby had pushed everyone away for weeks before he’d blown out his brains. Would there be any harm in Lucas befriending this woman and her son? What if Claire had isolated herself to the point of not having anyone to talk to? If he acted as a sounding board, she might eventually admit that keeping Grey constantly on the go wasn’t the best for him.
Maybe sometimes we could have breakfast at home, instead.
Grey’s haunted plea drifted to him again as he peered out of his open office door to where Claire was packing up her laptop. Maybe the problem wasn’t complicated at all. Maybe all Claire needed was a friend.
CHAPTER FOUR
DUSK APPROACHED AS Grey pushed himself off the ground, feeling both exhausted and angry. Nate Patterson hooted his exultation over once again getting the ball past him. Hell, it was happening more and more these days. Grey should be used to it.
But he wasn’t.
Nate trotted toward him. Grey brushed the dirt from his hand then extended it, though he couldn’t bring himself to smile.
“Nice dive, Murphy,” Nate said and pumped his hand with genuine enthusiasm.
Grey pressed his lips together, for fear the anger might spurt from him in a less-than-sportsmanlike manner. He nodded and Nate sped away, whooping with his teammates as the ending whistle shrilled.
At least the torment of this game was over. After a short pep talk from their coach, Grey headed across the soccer field toward the parking lot, scanning it for his mom. Too bad she’d missed another of his magnificent fails. If she’d seen how he’d sucked throughout that game, she’d understand his decision.
He was done.
The sun streamed down, glinting off metal and drawing his attention. His mom was standing on the far hill nearest the parking lot, something bulky slung across her shoulder. As she drew closer, he groaned. She was carrying a golf bag and clubs. She had to be kidding.
When she was within hearing distance, she smiled and waved. “Hi, honey!”
He shuffled toward her, shaking his head, refusing to ask the obvious.
She waved to his coach in the distance, and then ruffled his hair. He ducked away, hurrying toward the car.
“Hey, don’t I get a hello?” she asked. She caught him in a few quick strides. For a small woman, she moved quickly.
“Hello,” he said, keeping his attention on the parking lot. The sooner he got them to the car, the sooner they’d get home, where he could shut himself into his room and try to block out the noise.
“How was the game? I’m sorry I missed it. I had a lost shipment....”
Couldn’t she just drive them home for once and not expect him to talk?
“Look what I got,” she said. “Saw them at a yard sale earlier and had to stop. We can fit in a little golf on Sundays, before rock climbing.”
He shook his head and kept walking. What the hell did she expect him to say?
“Grey?” She touched his arm.
He twisted out of reach and increased his pace.
“Hey, what’s up?” She stopped.
He stopped, without turning around, closed his eyes and said, “I’m done.”
Mom moved in front of him, shifting the golf bag on her shoulder. “What do you mean, you’re done? Did the game not go well?”
Grey was too tired to be polite. “What don’t you get? I’m done, finished,” he said and swept his arms wide. “I’m through with all of it.”
Her mouth and eyebrows puckered like she was trying to understand. “You don’t want to play soccer anymore?”
“No,” he said. He had trouble keeping his voice level. His throat tightened. “I hate it.”
