Big Girls Don't Cry. Brenda Novak
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CHAPTER TWO
Los Angeles, California
ISAAC COULDN’T HELP puzzling over Keith’s behavior. He vacillated between believing he must have misconstrued the situation, and wondering what his brother-in-law was hiding. A forty-five-car pileup was no small thing. A traveler would definitely notice something like that. And Isaac didn’t believe for a moment that Elizabeth had mixed up the dates. She wouldn’t have pressed her husband as hard as she had if there was any possibility of that.
Maybe Keith had spotted the congested traffic and exited the freeway before realizing the extent of what had happened. And maybe, somehow, he had missed all the news reports of the accident the rest of the day.
Isaac didn’t know a whole lot about Sacramento, but he’d been there once, years ago, to meet up with an old girlfriend who’d long since passed out of his life. If he remembered right, the airport was pretty far out of town, connected to the city by only one street, a major freeway. But that could’ve changed….
Hoping that he’d arrived at a logical explanation, Isaac stared at a map of Sacramento on the computer in Keith’s home office. It looked as if there were a few exits off Interstate 5 that Keith could’ve taken. But the airport still sat amid large tracts of farmland. Would someone not very familiar with the area, someone sitting in fog thick enough to cause that big a pileup, know how to get around a traffic jam when there were so few options available?
It didn’t seem entirely plausible, but there was always the possibility that Keith knew Sacramento better than Isaac thought. He certainly traveled enough.
“Isaac?” Elizabeth called from the kitchen.
“What?” he replied, still studying the map.
“Telephone.”
Isaac blinked in surprise. He’d been so absorbed in what he was doing he hadn’t even heard the phone ring.
Leaning to the right of the computer, he breathed in the scent of furniture polish as he reached for the handset.
“Hello?”
“Isaac?”
A strong British accent immediately identified the caller as Reginald Woolston, Isaac’s Department Head at Chicago University. “What’s up, Reggie?”
“Good news. I just received a call from the Research Grants Program of the Center for Tropical Forest Science.”
Isaac sat taller. “And?”
“They’re forwarding your application to the interview committee. They’d like to meet you.”
With Reginald’s help, Isaac had submitted his application months ago, before he’d left the Congo. It was about time CTFS finally reached the interview process. “When?”
“That’s the bad news. Your appointment is scheduled for tomorrow. Can you make it?”
Isaac scowled at the iridescent glow of the computer monitor. “I’m in California!”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Can’t we schedule an appointment for next week so I can have a chance to get home?”
“I’m afraid not,” his boss replied. “The committee meets only once a month. If you miss tomorrow’s meeting, it will push your application back thirty days.”
Isaac didn’t want to delay his chances. Not when he was so eager to return to his research. “No, I’ll…” The black line that was Interstate 5 was all that stood out on the Sacramento map as he leaned back. “I’ll catch a flight out right away.”
“Good for you. I was hoping you’d say that.”
Isaac could hear Elizabeth telling Christopher to get his backpack. She worked from nine until three each day managing a large dental office, but she’d taken the week off to spend with him and had kept Christopher out of day care, too. Now she was getting ready to drive him to his kindergarten class, which started at noon. “Did they sound interested?” he asked Reggie.
“You know the committee type. They rarely give anything away. ‘We’ve had numerous applications,’ and all that rot.”
Isaac chuckled at Reginald’s British colloquialism. When he talked to Reg, he nearly found himself saying, “I say, old man,” or “jolly good, then.”
“You’ve made the first cut, as we expected,” Reg continued. “But I’ve heard Harold Munoz is also applying, and he’s done some great work in the past. The competition will be fierce, so let’s make the most of the opportunity, shall we?”
Harold Munoz was more interested in making a name for himself than he was in saving Africa’s population of forest elephants. Isaac didn’t like him. But, with any luck, Isaac would be the one going back to the place that had captured his imagination like no other. “If I get the grant, how long will it be before the money comes through? Did they give you any indication?”
“Judging from experience, it could be three months, or it could be two years, right? You’ve been through this before.”
He had been through the process, but Isaac wished Reg would show some excitement. After all, Reginald shared Isaac’s passion for Africa and all the animals to be studied there. He used to lead teams to the Republic of the Congo himself, before he accepted the corner office at the university and officially hung up his “field” clothes for a monotonous series of tweed jackets. “Just making conversation,” Isaac said.
“I see. Well, it’s too early to tell.”
And, as usual, Reg was too conservative to speculate. “Right. I’ll see you later, then.”
“Do you need a ride home from the airport?” his boss asked before Isaac could hang up.
Isaac considered his options. He’d returned from the Republic of the Congo almost a month ago, but as soon as he’d settled into his small condo and caught up on what he’d missed at the university, he’d come to California to see his sister, niece and nephew. He didn’t really want to contact some friend or other he hadn’t spoken to in over a year and suddenly ask a favor, which meant he’d have to take a cab. He figured he might as well spend the time talking to Reg, rather than ride alone. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. Leave a message on my voice mail with your time of arrival. I’m heading into a faculty meeting right now.”
Isaac agreed and disconnected, then retrieved the phone book so he could arrange his flight. Fifteen minutes later, he was eager to pack so he wouldn’t miss his plane.
Quickly collecting his day planner, he stood and started out of the room. But then his eye caught the computer screen once again.
Keith must have taken the exit called Power Line Road and avoided the whole pileup, he decided. Elizabeth admitted that when he was out of town she rarely heard from him. He was probably as absorbed by his work as Isaac was and had forgotten about the detour in Sacramento by the time he returned home.
In any case, what Isaac had sensed in his brother-in-law this morning wasn’t anything to worry about. Elizabeth was going to be fine.
With a click of the mouse, he closed the map.
Dundee, Idaho
REENIE SLOWED as she passed the small farm for sale a few miles from her home.
“Mommy, why are you stopping?” six-year-old Isabella demanded from the back seat of the old minivan.
Reenie had just picked up her three daughters from school. It was raining and had been for most of the afternoon. She could smell the crushed autumn leaves on her children’s boots, the cool wet of the outdoors on their raincoats and umbrellas, the musty scent of their damp hair. “So I can dream,” she said.
Angela, older than Isabella by two years, was