Grand Passion

sleepless night he had made his decision. He would go back to Harmony Cove this evening because he had to face Cleo and the others. He had to see their faces when he acknowledged that he had failed them.
    When he saw the disappointment and the rejection in Cleo's eyes and in the eyes of her friends, he would leave. He had learned a long time ago that people only wanted him around as long as he was useful.
    He wouldn't even have to waste time packing, he thought as he glanced at a road sign. Knowing what lay ahead, he had risen at dawn this morning, folded his belongings into the carryall, and stowed the bag in the Jaguar's trunk. Being packed and ready to leave was an old habit. He had picked it up at the age of six, and he had never really lost it.
    It was easier, somehow, to have one foot already out the door when someone was about to tell you that you would have to leave, anyway.
    Max slowed for the exit ramp marked Garnly. According to O'Reilly there were only three gas stations in Garnly. Ben Atkins was reportedly working at one of them.
    Max cruised slowly through the drab little town. The rain was still falling steadily, a wet, gray veil that managed to conceal some of Garnly's less attractive aspects. He glanced down at the address he had written on a sheet of paper.
    It was the second gas station on the left. Max eased the Jaguar into the small parking area and switched off the engine. He sat quietly for a moment, staring through the rain at the figure working in the service bay.
    The young man moved with a quiet certainty, as if he had been working on cars all his life. He appeared tall and thin in the stained gray coveralls. His lanky blond hair needed a trim. He seemed huddled in on himself, a man who communicated better with mechanical things than he did with human beings.
    Max opened the door and got out of the Jaguar. He walked through the rain to the shelter of the service bay and waited until the mechanic noticed him.
    “Be with you in a minute.” The mechanic hunched over an alternator.
    “I'm looking for a man named Ben Atkins,” Max said.
    “Huh?” The mechanic looked up with a wary expression. His face was like the rest of him, thin and closed in on itself.
    “Ben Atkins,” Max repeated.
    The mechanic frowned in confusion. “I'm Benjy. Benjy Atkins.”
    “Guess I made a mistake,” Max said. He turned to walk back to the Jaguar.
    “Wait.” Metal clattered on metal as Ben tossed aside his tools. “I told you, I'm Benjy Atkins. What's this all about? Who are you?”
    Max halted and turned around again. “Like I said, I'm looking for a man named Ben Atkins.”
    Ben stared at him as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “That's me. I mean, I'm Ben Atkins. But everyone calls me Benjy.”
    “Not any more,” Max said. “I hear you're going to be a father. In my book that makes you Ben, not Benjy.”
    Ben looked stunned. “You know Trisha?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is she okay?”
    “No. She's scared to death.”
    Ben's face tightened into a sullen mask. “Who are you, mister?”
    “My name is Max Fortune.”
    “Yeah, but who are you? How do you know about me? And about the baby.”
    “Let's just say I'm a friend of the family.”
    “I ain't got a family.”
    “That's not the way I heard it.” Max glanced at his watch. “It's almost noon. You plan on eating lunch?”
    Ben blinked. “Well, yeah. Sure.”
    “You're in luck. I'm buying.”
    * * *
    “He'll be back,” Cleo said with a stubborn confidence that she was not really feeling.
    “If he planned on returning,” Sylvia said patiently, “why did he pack his things?”
    “I don't know.” Cleo propped her silver sneakers on top of her desk and glowered down into the dregs of her coffee. “I think he's used to being packed and ready to go. I have a feeling it's second nature for him. An instinct or something.”
    “Instinct?” Sylvia asked dryly.
    “You saw how easy it was for him to move in here when he arrived. Max obviously travels light.”
    Sylvia wrinkled her nose. “You think he just sort of instinctively put his bag in the trunk of his car this morning?”
    “Yes.”
    “Before anyone else was up and about?”
    “Yes.”
    Sylvia lounged on the edge of the desk and sipped her own coffee. “Cleo, my friend, you might as well face facts. He's gone.”
    Cleo closed her eyes. “God, I hope not.”
    Sylvia was silent for about three full seconds, during which she examined Cleo's face intently. “Damn,” she finally