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“How old was he?”
“Twelve. His old man survived but was sentenced to life in prison for killing his own daughter.”
“And his mother?”
“She survived, too. And is doing well.”
“Did his father have money that your founder used to build The Lemonade Stand?” It was fitting.
“There was some money, enough for his mom to provide a home for herself and her two remaining children, to provide them all with college educations, including herself. Our founder started a dot-com business when he was at university, which he sold upon graduation for a hefty sum and that’s what he used to set up The Lemonade Stand. He was twenty-four at the time. Originally there were four bungalows on a couple of acres that housed sixteen victims. He spent the next year crusading for investors and grants and government funding. That was twelve years ago.”
“Is he still around?”
“He sits on our board.”
“And his mother?”
She straightened, standing free of the wall. “She’s around.”
He had to collect Darin and get in a couple of hours of mowing and trimming before the sun went down.
“You were married,” he said instead of “Thank you for the tax papers.”
Her eyebrows rose but she didn’t say anything. “Before…that day at the hospital. You were wearing a wedding ring.”
She nodded.
“Now you aren’t.”
Her husband could have died.
She didn’t have the demeanor of a widow. Maura, his next-door neighbor who helped out with Darin, had the demeanor of a widow.
“I’m divorced.”
Grant didn’t ask any more questions. The shadow that had immediately fallen over her face at the words was answer enough.
The bastard had hurt her.
Bad.
It was also clear, from her tone, her changed and distant demeanor, that Lynn wasn’t open to discussing the topic.
Hopefully, someday, she would be.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LYNN WAS COMING from her office on Wednesday afternoon and took the long way around, passing through the grassy commons. The February weather was perfect. A sunny and balmy seventy degrees. She wanted to take a couple of minutes to enjoy it.
She wanted to see if Grant was still there. Not for any reason. Just to see.
When she noticed him and Darin at the edge of the Garden of Renewal unloading stones one by one from a cart, she picked up her pace toward home, taking a couple of shortcuts and making it there in record time.
“She’s still asleep.” Maddie met her at the door, her finger to her lips, although Kara would sleep through an earthquake. “She had swimming lessons this afternoon,” Maddie reminded her. “With LaQueisha.” An ex-Olympic-bound swimmer whose older brother had used her to practice his boxing skills and irreparably damaged her left shoulder in the process, killing her chances to swim competitively ever again. Her divorced father, who’d been unaware of his son’s anger issues, was prepared to take LaQueisha to live with him, to put her through college, as soon as she was ready to leave the Stand.
“Then I’m going to go help unload some rock,” Lynn whispered, heading into her room to change into jeans, a T-shirt and tennis shoes. “I’ll be back in an hour, and if she’s not up yet, we can wake her for dinner.”
Dinner was always at six. Whether Lynn was home to eat with Kara or not.
Kara had her bath between 7:30 and 7:45 and was in bed by eight. Story time was Lynn’s time. She’d lie in bed with her little girl and read to her. Sometimes long after Kara had fallen asleep.
Five minutes later, Lynn arrived at the cordoned-off site. “I’m here to help,” she announced, not singling out either brother as she directed her words.
“Hi, Lynn, you look different in a T-shirt,” Darin said as he knelt by a section of neatly stacked rock.
“He means cute,” Grant said, standing, his gloved hands empty as he smiled at her.
“No, I meant different.” Darin’s tone was slightly petulant. “But she is cute,” he finished, with a grin that was all male.
Hot inside, and feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Lynn asked, “What can I do to help?”
“I’m stacking the rock,” Darin said. “Normally I lift, but I can’t because of my surgery. Another three weeks, huh, Grant?”
