Spring Break

Chapter 3

Peter's parents' home, Albany, New York. Thursday evening. March 17, 2005.

Peter half-listened as El described the argument between Henry and Angela in the grocery store, ending with how Neal had mended things.

"Classic middle child, as my father would say," El said about Neal.

Betty nodded, comparing the scene to ones she'd experienced in her many years as a school teacher. She'd taught fifth grade and was comparing three young adults to ten-year-olds. "Did you want to reserve the cabin?" she suddenly asked.

Peter had been paging through the calendar that was attached to the refrigerator with magnets. This was where Betty logged the requests for the cabin. "Maybe. I should see when I can get some time off."

El raised a brow at that. Peter generally had to be dragged kicking and screaming into taking time off, and he knew she'd quiz him about that later.

For now he returned to the kitchen table and took the beer his father offered him. "What do you think of Henry, Mom?"

"Smart. Maybe too smart for his own good sometimes. He likes to complicate matters, to keep things interesting. He's loyal. He'd do anything for his family and friends."

"A lot like Neal," Peter added. He let El pick up that thread as she compared the two young men. After a while he added, "It's fascinating watching them together. Sometimes it's like they can read each other's minds. Did you notice that, Mom? When we were in Hawaii?"

She shook her head. "I can't say I did, but often we were all in such a large group you couldn't observe much of the individuals."

True, but thinking back, Peter remembered times that Henry had pulled Betty into side conversations. He bided his time. The puzzle pieces were slowly coming together, but it was too soon to push for answers yet.

It was early the next morning, when he'd just padded down to the kitchen to make coffee, that his cell phone buzzed. "How are things in the cabin?" he asked.

Neal told him about the adventure on the lake, about dinner and the phone calls.

Peter laughed at the descriptions of the heckling. "That brings back memories. I used to do that as a kid when Joe was dating."

"Whatever Henry's doing, I'm increasingly certain that Angela was in on it. I don't think she's lied to me, other than the part about being on the outs with Michael. I haven't called her on it yet, not directly. When Henry gave us a moment alone, I mentioned I had a question for her about this vacation. I timed it so I couldn't actually ask anything. My theory is that she's feeling guilty and will give it all away soon. She's just too basically honest to pull off something like this for long."

"She pulled her weight on the Masterson sting," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah, but she didn't like Masterson, and anyway, she wasn't exactly lying. She was being herself, or a rock star version of herself, under a pseudonym. Listen, I don't have a lot of time before they wake up. Did you learn anything on your end?"

"I looked at the calendar where Mom logs the cabin reservations. She writes them down with whatever's at hand. Any given pen or pencil usually wanders away from the kitchen after a couple of weeks and she'll find another one. I can say with relative certainty that she wrote down your reservation around the start of the year, the same time my cousin always calls to reserve it for Thanksgiving. My working theory is that Henry made the request when we were in Hawaii, and she wrote it down as soon as she got home."

"In January. If he was planning that far ahead, imagine how much time he's had to perfect this scheme."

"And complicate it," Peter added, thinking back to what his mother had said the night before. "Remember that Henry likes to complicate things. Simplicity might be your best weapon."