Chapter 19: Our Miracle

Nolan's POV

The Harbor Club ballroom held four hundred people, and every one of them stood up when I walked in.

They clapped.

Chandeliers glittered over the tables, and a string quartet played something soft.

A banner above the stage said WELCOME HOME, NOLAN in gold letters six feet high.

Laurel walked half a step behind me in a borrowed green dress.

A woman near the door stared at her, and whispered to her husband, and I heard the word *kidnapper*.

Laurel's chin went up another inch.

I reached back without looking and took her hand.

The whisper stopped.

"Nolan!"

My father came through the crowd with both arms open.

His silver hair was combed, his tuxedo fit like a second skin, and his eyes were wet with joy.

He hugged me hard in front of everyone.

He smelled of the same cologne he had worn every Sunday of my life.

"My boy," he said into my ear. "My miracle."

"Dad."

"You came."

"I said I would."

He held me at arm's length and looked at Laurel.

For one second the warmth went off his face.

"And you brought your wife. How generous of you both."

"The court allowed it," Laurel said.

"I'm sure it did."

He smiled at her.

Then he turned and led me through the room with his hand on my shoulder.

I felt every finger of it.

My mother sat at the head table in a blue dress, with her hands folded and a smile so fixed it looked painted.

She met my eyes for half a second and looked away.

Trenton sat beside her.

He was drinking water, which was strange, and his knee jumped under the tablecloth.

He tried to smile when I passed.

It came out crooked.

My phone buzzed in my breast pocket.

I took it out under the tablecloth.

It was the detective.

*Safe open. Ledger, dated, initialed W.T. Cash withdrawals, the Rudd payment on top. Hold the room.*

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