“Del’s home,” Elaine said, motioning to the sofa.

Ceallach stared at his son. For a second Del wondered if his father was trying to figure out which of his offspring he was.

“He came back for your birthday,” his mother added.

“Good to know. What are you doing these days? Surfing?”

Del thought about the board he’d created, the company he’d started, how much he’d sold it for and the impressive amount sitting in his bank account.

“Most days,” he said, dropping his hand to rub Sophie’s tummy. The beagle shifted onto her back and sighed.

“You seen Nick?” his father asked. “He’s still working in that bar, wasting his talent. No one can get through to him. I’m done trying.”

With that, Ceallach walked out of the room.

Del stared after him. “Good to see you, too, Dad.”

His mother pressed her lips together. “Don’t be like that,” she said. “You know how he gets. It’s just his way. He’s glad you’re back.”

Del was less sure about that, but didn’t want to start a fight. Nothing had changed. Ceallach only cared about his art and other people with the potential to create art, and Elaine still stood between him and the world, acting as both buffer and defender.

“What are you up to these days?” she asked. “I know you sold your company. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I’m still deciding what’s next. I’ve been offered some design work.”

“Are you going to take it?”

“No. I came up with my board on my own. I’m not a designer. There are a couple of venture capitalists who want to fund my next big idea.” Which would be great if he had one. What he most wanted to do— Well, that wasn’t going the way he’d hoped.

“You have time to decide what’s important.”

The right words, but again he had the sense she was hiding something. Not that he was going to ask again. Secrets were an ongoing part of life in the Mitchell family. He’d learned early to wait until they were shared.

“You could go to work for your brother,” she said.

“Aidan?” Del laughed. “At the family business? No thanks. And I doubt he’d appreciate you offering my help.”

“He’s busy all the time. Especially in summer.”

He couldn’t imagine what his brother would have to say about his advice. These days they barely kept in touch. Del remembered when they’d been close and wondered what had happened. Sure he’d been gone, but he emailed and texted.

Another problem for another day, he told himself and rose.

“Good to see you, Mom,” he said as he crossed to her and kissed her on the cheek.

“You, too. I expect to see a lot of you while you’re in town.”

“You will.”

“And shave.”

CHAPTER THREE

MAYA’S OFFICE WAS in the same building as the Fool’s Gold cable access studio. The local news had its own location on the other side of town. Until this minute she’d enjoyed the separation. Having to see “real” reporters on a daily basis would have been depressing. It wasn’t that she wanted to be one anymore. It was just having to look into the eyes of her abandoned dream, as it were, could have been difficult. Although at this second, facing down a wild, hungry bear would have been preferable to what she was doing.

“I don’t understand,” Eddie Carberry said stubbornly. “People like our show. Did one of the Gionni sisters say something to you? Because I know they’re pissed that we’re getting better ratings than they are. Who wants to watch a TV show about hair when there are naked butts to be seen? Plus, they each have a show because of their feud, so it’s twice as much of the same.”

“The shows are about styling hair,” her friend Gladys pointed out. “Not that watching someone work a curling iron is all that interesting.”

Eddie and Gladys had to be in their seventies. They were spry enough and certainly determined, Maya thought grimly. Had Mayor Marsha realized the impossibility of the task when she’d hired Maya? Because Maya had always thought she and the mayor were friends. Maybe she’d been imagining the connection.

“Styling or talking, hair is hair. What we do is more interesting and Bella and Julia can’t stand that.” Eddie put her hands on her hips. As she was wearing a bright yellow velour tracksuit, she looked a bit more comical than intimidating, but there was a gleam in her eye that had Maya keeping a safe distance.

She continued to hold out the piece of paper. “I’ve cut and pasted the exact language from the government website,” she said firmly. “It’s very clear. The FCC has defined broadcast indecency as ‘language or material that, in context, depicts or describes, in terms patently offensive as measured by contemporary community standards for the broadcast medium, sexual or excretory organs or activities.’“

“What’s excretory?” Gladys asked.

“What does it sound like?” Eddie gave her a pointed look.

Gladys wrinkled her nose. “Yuck. We’d never do that. What about free speech? We claim the First Amendment.”

“What she said,” Eddie added. “We have the right to free speech.”

Maya looked at her notes. “The court says that you can’t show naked butts when children might be watching.”

Gladys and Eddie exchanged a look.