Sign of the Maker (Boston Crime Thriller Book 4), Brian Shea [free reads .txt] 📗

of his. She turned over his hand. Cass traced the pad of her index finger along the scar that ran from end to end. It was how she calmed him. The injury happened at three, and Ethan had no memory of it other than the story his mother told him. He apparently had run his hand through a plate-glass window. Cass always did this when he was stressed. And it always worked to bring about a sense of calm, just as it was doing now.

"I can't thank all of you enough for being here to celebrate this engagement of these two very special people. When my Cassandra graduated Yale with honors, I'd always thought she'd be marrying a lawyer or doctor, not one of my lab technicians." Wexler laughed at his own joke. The room joined in.

Ethan smiled. But he knew there was less of a joke in the comment than he'd like. He endured the chiding, as he did all of his soon-to-be father-in-law's attempts at undercutting him in the presence of Cass or other Pincer employees.

The laughter subsided, and Wexler continued. "I kid, I kid. He was a part of my family the minute he became an employee at Pincer Pharma. We're all family there."

A round of applause and a couple of cheers from some of Pincer’s higher-ups in attendance at the two hundred people gathering. A large venue by Ethan's standards. Small, almost minuscule, to someone like Wexler.

"I have so many things to be grateful for. Being only weeks away from one of the greatest medical breakthroughs in pharmacological history is being overshadowed by the love of these two here and the wedding that they'll be having in less than—what is it now? — Six months’ time?"

Cass smiled. "Five and a half, daddy." Her voice always took on a childlike quality when speaking with her father. Something that annoyed Ethan, but he never addressed.

"Oh, I better get on that." Wexler gave pause to another burst of laughter from the crowd. "But seriously, I couldn't have asked for a better son-in-law. And although his father isn't here tonight, I know the stock this young man here comes from. Having born witness to the fantastic rise of his father as he climbed the ranks of the Boston Police Department to achieve the distinction of chief must have left an indelible mark on this young man's character. I can only imagine the father that Ethan will be to my grandchildren someday."

Ethan smiled and mouthed the words, "Thank you." He couldn't find Wexler's angle, but he felt it was there. Because it always was.

"I know nobody wants me up here yammering all night. There's plenty of drinking and dancing to do," Wexler's face grew serious, "before I turn things back over to the band, I'd like to take a moment and speak to Cass and Ethan."

A spotlight's beam found them. Ethan felt the anxiety return.

"Cassandra, could you and Ethan come up here?"

Cass got up. Her dress shimmered as she walked. The spotlight stayed on her. It was always on her. Featured on a dozen magazine covers during her part-time modeling endeavor during her spare time while attending Yale Law School, Cass was accustomed to it. Although she no longer sought the attention, it continued to follow her. Ethan trailed behind. Cass walked up, kissed him on the cheek, and stood to his side. Ethan eased up alongside her.

Wexler kissed his daughter on her forehead and loosely held her hands by the tips of his fingers as he looked into Cass's moist eyes. "Ethan, can I get you to come over here. I have something I'd like to give you."

Ethan traded the security of Cass's side for that of her father’s. Wexler released his daughter's hands and turned to Ethan, who instinctually stepped back as if he was an animal in a territorial battle. Fitting, since basically he was.

"Elizabeth Cassandra Wexler was my grandmother. Cass, here, was named after her." He smiled at his daughter and then turned to Ethan. Wexler, a man not known for his emotions, looked on the verge of tearing up as he fished inside of his pocket. He pulled a ring out and held it high so that everyone could see before pressing it firmly into Ethan's scarred palm.

"This wedding band belonged to your great-grandmother. Your mother wore it. And, God rest her soul, she wanted Cass to have it," Wexler choked on the words and cleared his throat. "Ethan, would you do me and my family the honor of giving this ring to my daughter on your wedding day?"

There was no way he could refuse. And Wexler knew it. Ethan worked his lips into a smile. "The honor would be mine."

Wexler released the ring and turned to the crowd, instantly returning to the showman. He slid an arm around his daughter's waist and gave a hug, holding the position long enough to ensure the cameramen captured the moment.

"Now, for the rest of you, thank you for coming and enjoy the rest of your night." The clink of glasses accompanied a round of cheers.

Ethan sat and tried to hide the shell-shock he was feeling from permeating his expression. The napkin was in his hand again and crumpled into a wild mess.

Cass walked back to the table and wiped the tears from her eyes, being careful not to smudge her makeup. She didn't sit. Instead, she grabbed Ethan by the hand and gave a half smile. "How about we grab a drink?"

She always knew just what to say. Ethan got up. Arm in arm, they crossed the floor. He always felt like a celebrity hitting the red carpet when walking alongside her. And she was a celebrity. The fact that the carpeted floor of the boat's ornate dining room happened to be red made him laugh to himself.

It wasn't easy to navigate the short expanse of the second deck to the hardwood, lacquered bar at the back end of it. Several bartenders were hard at work, fielding drinks