hours later he was wrapping up his presentation to the delegation from Shanghai. Lorraine, his boss, was seated at the end of the boardroom table along with five men and one woman, all in identical gray suits.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our firm’s vision of the luxury high-rise apartments in the Changning district of Shanghai,” Adam said. “Please, take all the time you need to review our brochure. I’m available to answer your—” he broke off as his phone vibrated inside his pants pocket “—questions any time.”
The damn phone had rung five times in the past half hour. He’d ignored it until now, but it wouldn’t stop.
“Excuse me. I’ll just be a moment.” He threw Lorraine an apologetic glance and hurried out of the room. Shutting the door, he answered his phone. “Yes, what is it?”
“Mr. Banks? This is Tom Dorian, the principal of Summer’s school.”
“What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”
“No, she’s fine. Well, not fine, but...I’d like you to come in. She’s been caught shoplifting.”
“Shoplifting? Summer?” He barked out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s not possible.”
“She was caught red-handed by the owner of the shop.”
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. This couldn’t be happening. And yet it was. Did he even know his daughter anymore? “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
An hour later, the company helicopter set down on the rain-wet grass of the high school football field. Adam ducked beneath the whirring rotors, his long stride breaking into a jog as he neared the front doors of the school.
Summer had never been in trouble before. Ever. She was a good student, sweet-natured—this morning’s tantrum aside—obsessed with boy bands and horses...typical in every way. She’d had a rough year, with the divorce and the bushfires, but she’d never given him or Diane, his ex-wife, a moment of worry.
Until now.
Adam smoothed his hair and straightened his tie as he rushed to the principal’s office.
A secretary looked up from her computer. “Good morning. Do you have an appointment, Mr.—?”
“Adam Banks. I’m expected.” Through the open door of the principal’s office he saw Summer sitting with her back to him, her shoulders slumped.
He swept past the secretary, knocked once and pushed open the door. “Summer, honey, what’s going on?”
His daughter swiveled on her chair and greeted him with a blank expression and a shrug.
“I can fill you in, Mr Banks.” Tom Dorian was round and slightly sweaty, with short, dark hair. He rose and extended a clammy hand, then walked around to close the door before returning to his desk. “Please, sit down. I’m sorry to have interrupted you at work, but I had no choice. The shopkeeper is talking about pressing charges.”
Pressing charges. The words were enough to strike fear into the heart of any parent. Frowning, Adam took the chair next to Summer. She avoided his gaze and picked at the cuticles of her ink-stained hands. “Summer, what did you steal, and from where?”
Again, she just shrugged.
“A pair of earrings from the Gift Shop Café.” Tom Dorian laced pudgy fingers over his desk blotter, his earnest, boyish face serious. “It happened around 11:30 a.m. She was also skipping school.”
Adam rested a hand gently on Summer’s shoulder. “Is this true?”
“So I cut school. Big deal.” She shrugged his hand off.
“Not that. Shoplifting. Is this about the horse?”
“I wanted something for Mom’s birthday and I didn’t have any money.” She raised her chin and stared at him. His heart sank—now she was lying, too. She received a generous monthly allowance, and her mother’s birthday had been two months ago.
“We’ll talk about that later.” How had she sunk to such a low point without either him or Diane noticing? Behind Summer’s defiance he sensed her fear and heard her unspoken plea: Daddy, get me out of here.
He turned to the principal. “What happens now?”
“You need to go to the police station and talk with the arresting officer,” Tom said. “Since it’s a first offense the shopkeeper might let it go. But even disregarding this incident, Summer’s been on a slippery slope. As you know, her attendance is poor, her grades are falling—”
“No, I didn’t know,” Adam said sharply.
“Summer’s mother didn’t mention it to you?”
“She had to leave in a hurry. Summer’s grandmother is having emergency heart surgery in Sydney.” That didn’t explain why she’d never told him Summer was having trouble at school, but that was Diane all over—ignore problems and hope they would go away. “How long has this been going on?”
“Her problems have been gradually building since the beginning of the school year.” Dorian paused. “The bushfires affected a lot of students. It’s been a difficult time.”
The bushfires again. They were an unmitigated tragedy. Along with the human life lost, hundreds of homes had been burned, livelihoods destroyed and untold numbers of livestock and wildlife killed.
He’d never wanted to buy Timbertop, the two-story log home on five acres of mixed forest and pasture. Diane had fallen in love with it on a whim after spending a weekend up here with her girlfriends, riding horses. He’d purchased the property as a summer home in an attempt to save his rocky marriage but not a month later he’d found out she was having an affair. He didn’t know who with and he didn’t care. It had been the last straw. He’d asked Diane for a divorce, and she’d moved herself and Summer permanently to Hope Mountain.
However, things could have been a lot worse for them. Compared to some others, they had hardly been touched by the fires. “But our house was spared, thanks to the efforts of volunteer firefighters...” he said, still searching for answers as to why his daughter’s behavior had deteriorated. “No close friends of Summer’s were killed—”
“My horse died!”
Adam dragged a hand through his hair. “Bailey. Of course. I’m sorry.”
Bailey had presumably jumped the fence, terrified by the smoke and heat, and run into the woods. They’d never found the horse, or his remains, but undoubtedly he’d succumbed to the fire.
“And stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here.” Summer bounded to her feet. “Not everything is about the freaking bushfires.”
“Sit down and tell me what it is about, then,” Adam said.
She sank back into her chair and crossed her arms and legs, folding into herself. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re never around.”
The barb hit home. He was supposed to have Summer every second weekend, but for the past few months work had gotten in the way.
