Harry dangled his arm behind his back and reached for the girl’s hand. They linked fingers in a way that suggested they were attempting to avoid detection. Being the product of a single-sex boarding school education, Felix had no point of reference for dating behavior on school grounds, but he could only assume this sort of activity was banned. Which probably explained why Max sat on the wall behind them, watching.
Harry reached around with his other hand and touched the girl’s shoulder. Another of Harry’s embarrassing habits: if he touched a person’s right side, he had to touch her left side and vice versa. Something to do with balance. The girl seemed not to notice or care.
A pair of crows cawed, and the drizzle now smothered his windscreen, impeding his view of the children. The scene on the playground took on an oddly dreamlike quality. His son, who had never—to his knowledge—expressed interest in girls, was in love. And those feelings were reciprocated. Truth be told, he had never expected teenage Harry to have a girlfriend. Did that make him, Felix, shallow and judgmental? Yes, it did. Because here was a beautiful teenage girl who could accept what Harry’s own father could not.
Why had he promised Ella he’d make his life all about Harry? Clearly, he wasn’t wired for parenthood. Maybe he should forget the tasks Ella had assigned him and go into the office to do what he was meant to do: put together deals.
Felix had been a working stiff his whole life and had never once used up his quota of paid holidays. He’d been earning a salary since he’d taken up carpentry at sixteen—Harry’s age.
“Coming from money doesn’t mean a bloody thing,” Pater had always said. “I don’t care if you want to follow in your grandfather’s footsteps and be a banker. Haven’t you studied the Great Depression in American history? You need manual skills so you can provide for your family whatever the situation. You don’t want to be some slacker sponging off the welfare state.”
Slacker was not a word associated with the Fitzwilliam name, even though Mother had happily lived off the family inheritance for decades. Felix had never been a slacker, nor was he about to become one.
He glanced at his watch. Three hours to school pickup. Should he head to the office? Eliminating travel time and the obligatory chat with Nora Mae, that would leave two hours at his desk. Less if he ended up in a confrontation with Robert. Hardly worth going into work, then.
What he did need to do, however, was exit the parking lot before Harry turned and spotted the Mini. After all, it was evident that he had not tortured his son.
His phone chimed with a text from Ella.
You need to collect your dry cleaning. Forgot. Sorry to give you one more thing to do. Feeling pretty useless and exhausted. Dr. Beaubridge was a ray of sunshine, wasn’t he?
Felix texted back:
He’s an arrogant prick. Every time you look at him, imagine a giant penis.
Ha! That’s a good one!
Had he made her laugh? When was the last time he’d made her laugh?
Going back to sleep, Ella typed.
Good night, Sleeping Beauty.
He started the engine. Back to the errand-running plan, then. He should begin with the dry cleaner’s before he forgot to write it on his to-do list. Wait. Where the hell was the dry cleaner’s?
NINE