knew he preferred to stay under the radar, and if there was ever a man who wasn't under the radar, it was Jack Callaway.
"How do you know Emma?" Jack asked.
"We worked on an arson/homicide case last month."
"Max is a recent transfer from Los Angeles," Emma added. "But maybe you already knew that if you've been talking to Captain Crowley." Emma shot her father a speculative look.
"Hank mentioned that. How does it feel to be home?"
"Home?" Emma interrupted, glancing from her dad to Max. "You're from San Francisco? You never told me that."
"You never asked," he replied.
"Where did you live?"
"On Noriega Street in the Sunset District."
"I had a place on Noriega Street once," Emma's grandmother said.
Max looked across the table at Eleanor Callaway. She had white hair and blue eyes that seemed a little hazy, dreamy almost, as if she wasn't quite present.
"When did you live on Noriega, Grandma?" Emma asked.
"A long time ago," she said. "When your father was in high school. It was such a pretty house." She turned to her husband. "You painted the wall behind our bed blue, remember?"
"Just like your eyes," Patrick said, his loving gaze on his wife.
There was clearly a strong connection between the two, Max thought, wondering what it would be like to be in love and married to someone for fifty years. He couldn't even imagine it.
Eleanor smiled at her husband. "We had so much fun in that house, big dinners with all the kids around the table. I was happy." She paused, her smile fading. "But then we had to leave. We had to move after that bad, bad day."
"No one wants to hear about that," Patrick told his wife, his tone sharp and purposeful.
"It's going to be okay, isn't it?" she asked, worry in her eyes as she gazed at her husband. "You said it would. You promised."
"It's fine," he assured her. "It was a long time ago."
"What was a long time ago?" Emma asked.
"Don't add to the confusion with questions," Patrick said, giving Emma a harsh look.
Emma quickly apologized. "I'm sorry."
"I'm Patrick Callaway," her grandfather said, his attention turning to Max. "And this is my wife, Eleanor."
"I'm very happy to meet you both." He wondered how he could extricate himself from a situation that seemed to be turning more awkward by the moment. He had no idea what Emma's grandmother was talking about, but her odd comments seemed to have left everyone at the table speechless.
Eleanor suddenly stiffened, confusion in her expression as she pointed her finger at Max. "You're not Emma's boyfriend. You're not Jon."
"No. I'm Max."
"I like Jon." She gave Emma an annoyed and bewildered look. "Why aren't you with Jon? He always brings me those hard candies."
"Jon and I broke up, Grandma."
"But he loved you. You loved him. You were going to get married and have babies."
Emma cleared her throat. "We decided it wasn't right."
"So this man is your new boyfriend?" Eleanor demanded, not looking at all happy about it.
"No, he's a colleague. We work together sometimes. That's all." She looked relieved when Burke arrived at the table, interrupting their conversation "Burke," she said with relief. "You're here. And Max is here."
"So I see," Burke said, shaking his hand. "Did you meet everyone?"
"Emma was just introducing me," he replied.
Emma waved her hand toward the other members of her family. "My mom, Lynda, sister, Shayla, brother, Colton."
Her mother and siblings said hello. Colton appeared more interested in whatever he was reading on his phone than the conversation at hand. Shayla gave him a very curious look. Fortunately he did not have to talk to anyone as a group of people approached the table to offer Jack congratulations.
To give the newcomers more room, Max moved a few steps away. Emma did the same.
"Sorry about that," she said. "My grandmother is in the early stages of Alzheimer's, and we never know what is going to come out of her mouth."
"I'm sorry to hear that she's ill."
"It's hard to watch her deteriorate. She was
"How do you know Emma?" Jack asked.
"We worked on an arson/homicide case last month."
"Max is a recent transfer from Los Angeles," Emma added. "But maybe you already knew that if you've been talking to Captain Crowley." Emma shot her father a speculative look.
"Hank mentioned that. How does it feel to be home?"
"Home?" Emma interrupted, glancing from her dad to Max. "You're from San Francisco? You never told me that."
"You never asked," he replied.
"Where did you live?"
"On Noriega Street in the Sunset District."
"I had a place on Noriega Street once," Emma's grandmother said.
Max looked across the table at Eleanor Callaway. She had white hair and blue eyes that seemed a little hazy, dreamy almost, as if she wasn't quite present.
"When did you live on Noriega, Grandma?" Emma asked.
"A long time ago," she said. "When your father was in high school. It was such a pretty house." She turned to her husband. "You painted the wall behind our bed blue, remember?"
"Just like your eyes," Patrick said, his loving gaze on his wife.
There was clearly a strong connection between the two, Max thought, wondering what it would be like to be in love and married to someone for fifty years. He couldn't even imagine it.
Eleanor smiled at her husband. "We had so much fun in that house, big dinners with all the kids around the table. I was happy." She paused, her smile fading. "But then we had to leave. We had to move after that bad, bad day."
"No one wants to hear about that," Patrick told his wife, his tone sharp and purposeful.
"It's going to be okay, isn't it?" she asked, worry in her eyes as she gazed at her husband. "You said it would. You promised."
"It's fine," he assured her. "It was a long time ago."
"What was a long time ago?" Emma asked.
"Don't add to the confusion with questions," Patrick said, giving Emma a harsh look.
Emma quickly apologized. "I'm sorry."
"I'm Patrick Callaway," her grandfather said, his attention turning to Max. "And this is my wife, Eleanor."
"I'm very happy to meet you both." He wondered how he could extricate himself from a situation that seemed to be turning more awkward by the moment. He had no idea what Emma's grandmother was talking about, but her odd comments seemed to have left everyone at the table speechless.
Eleanor suddenly stiffened, confusion in her expression as she pointed her finger at Max. "You're not Emma's boyfriend. You're not Jon."
"No. I'm Max."
"I like Jon." She gave Emma an annoyed and bewildered look. "Why aren't you with Jon? He always brings me those hard candies."
"Jon and I broke up, Grandma."
"But he loved you. You loved him. You were going to get married and have babies."
Emma cleared her throat. "We decided it wasn't right."
"So this man is your new boyfriend?" Eleanor demanded, not looking at all happy about it.
"No, he's a colleague. We work together sometimes. That's all." She looked relieved when Burke arrived at the table, interrupting their conversation "Burke," she said with relief. "You're here. And Max is here."
"So I see," Burke said, shaking his hand. "Did you meet everyone?"
"Emma was just introducing me," he replied.
Emma waved her hand toward the other members of her family. "My mom, Lynda, sister, Shayla, brother, Colton."
Her mother and siblings said hello. Colton appeared more interested in whatever he was reading on his phone than the conversation at hand. Shayla gave him a very curious look. Fortunately he did not have to talk to anyone as a group of people approached the table to offer Jack congratulations.
To give the newcomers more room, Max moved a few steps away. Emma did the same.
"Sorry about that," she said. "My grandmother is in the early stages of Alzheimer's, and we never know what is going to come out of her mouth."
"I'm sorry to hear that she's ill."
"It's hard to watch her deteriorate. She was
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