Take a Chance on Me by Susan May Warren Page B

either. “Tiger!” He dumped the watermelon in the cart, turned to scan the produce area. Tables topped with apples, oranges, potatoes, grapefruit, corn, bins of beans, and rows and rows of strawberries gave the five-year-old plenty of hiding places. “Tiger, where are you?” Oh, that kid. Once he’d searched the resort for an hour, finally finding him in the crawl space under the deck.
    “Tiger!” He tried to keep his voice down, but the name hissed out through clenched teeth. A woman near the pineapples looked at Darek. He didn’t recognize her, so . . . “My son wandered off. He’s five and is wearing a Spider-Man shirt.”
    She shook her head, wearing a look of alarm.
    “He does this all the time. He’s fine.” Really. They lived in a small town. The grocery store had all of seven aisles. But he hated how panic managed to reach up and choke off his breathing.
    Darek grabbed the cart and pushed it toward the deli section, casting a look down the canned goods aisle. “Tiger!” Nothing.
    He pushed toward the flour, oils, pasta, and did a quick look, then headed for cereals. Tiger loved his cereals.
    “Tig—”
    There he was, the little scamp, and not alone either. He had his arms around the neck of Nan Holloway.
    Of course it had to be Tiger’s grandmother who found him. She held on to the boy as if she might never let go.
    If she had her way, she wouldn’t.
    “Hello, Nan.”
    She glanced at him, her smile vanishing. “Someone could have picked him up and kidnapped him.”
    “Maybe you could say that louder. I’m not sure Tiger—or the rest of the store—heard you.”
    “He needs to know the dangers of running off. And frankly, so do you.”
    “I just stepped away to grab a watermelon.” Oh, that sounded brilliant. He wanted to shake away the words the moment he said them.
    “That’s how accidents happen, isn’t it, Darek? When someone takes their eye off the ball—”
    “I didn’t . . .” He blew out a breath. It didn’t matter. Nan and George Holloway had despised him since the day they found out Felicity expected his child. The shotgun wedding that occurred weeks later probably didn’t help.
    He schooled his tone. “Thanks for finding him.”
    He reached for Tiger, but Nan ducked her head as if drawing in his little-boy smell. Then she swallowed and affected a smile. “I don’t suppose you’d let us take him for the Fourth of July this weekend. Sandra is coming in with her family, and it would be so fun for him to play with his cousins.”
    The last time he’d brought Tiger over to the Holloways’, his son had returned with an entirely new wardrobe, his old clothes probably burned in the refuse pile. Darek tried not to mind, butit made him feel like a guy who lived in his car, panhandling for food for his kid.
    And shoot, his pride got the best of him. “Sorry, Nan, but we’re having a family get-together too.” This time he didn’t wait for her to release him but took Tiger into his arms, set him on his hip. “How about the following weekend?”
    She tightened her lips as if she was trying not to cry. Oh no. Felicity had the exact same expression. Usually right before she flung something nasty at Darek—objects, words, sometimes even his mistakes.
    And true to Holloway form: “Felicity always told me how selfish you were. I just never thought you’d keep Tiger from us.”
    Now people were staring. Probably agreeing with her.
    After all, the Holloways weren’t exactly unknown in the town of Deep Haven. Not with George on the school board since the dawn of time and Nan working in the courthouse, issuing building permits and tax liens.
    Felicity had been their golden girl—homecoming queen, basketball star, the girl most likely to succeed.
    Not get pregnant and marry at the age of twenty.
    Nan’s eyes sparkled, what looked like tears glistening in them.
    “Nan . . . fine. I’ll bring him by. How about Sunday, in the afternoon?”
    “No. Forget it, Darek. It’s