Crown Jewel by Fern Michaels Page A

with pride as he stared across the table at both of them. He slouched in his seat as though he were waiting for someone.
    Ricky stared out the window at a family with a cart full of bags and a box that said DVD on the side. One of the little kids had an Elmo doll and was tossing it high in the air. One of the older ones caught it and ran off until the father shouted one succinct warning. “Bring it back, now!” A dog, a collie by the looks of him, got into the act and leaped out of the car when a toddler climbed in and rolled down the window. Ricky watched as the mother, her ponytail flying, raced after the dog. Huffing and puffing, she carried the animal back to the car, rolled up the window, then proceeded to smack the kid’s bottom for rolling it down. Ricky felt like cheering. The dog barked shrilly. The father looked at him, pointed his finger, and the dog shut up instantly. A real authority figure. The kid with the Elmo doll bit off its ear and threw it into the front seat, the stuffing flying in all directions. The mother, who looked like she was at her wit’s end, leaned over the backseat and grabbed the kid by the scruff of the neck. The kid, red in the face, howled, demanding his Elmo doll. “You just ruined it, so you can’t have it back,” the mother said through clenched teeth. The dog tried to paw the mother as he yanked at the ribbon holding her ponytail in place.
    The father turned around but didn’t say a word as he put the car in gear and drove off, the dog barking as he pawed at the windows.
    Ricky slouched lower in his seat, wondering what his sons would decide to do. A few moments later, hearing noise and commotion, he sat up and peered out the window. The family with the DVD player, the kids, and the dog were back. The mother and father hopped out of the car, the engine of the car still running. They looked like they were looking for something. Whatever it was, it must be small. One of the kids inside the car was howling his head off, and the dog was still barking shrilly to be heard over the squalling kid. “We have to find the damn thing, Myron. We aren’t leaving this parking lot till we find it. Keep looking,” the mother shouted.
    â€œWell, it’s gone. I can’t find it,” the father said. “Maybe he lost it in the store. All right, all right, I’ll go inside and look. Can’t you shut him up?”
    â€œNo, Myron, I can’t shut him up. He wants his pacifier.”
    â€œThen shut the dog up,” the harried father said as he stomped off.
    â€œThe dog barks when Davey cries. Davey is crying. I hate you, Myron,” the mother bellowed. The father raised his middle finger over the back of his head. The mother started to cry.
    Ricky hopped out of the car. “Do you want me to help you look? What color is the pacifier?”
    â€œBlue. Oh, my God, you’re Ricky Lam! Myron is never going to believe this!”
    â€œIs this what you’re looking for?” Ricky said, holding up a blue pacifier he pulled out of the web of the store shopping cart.”
    â€œYessss. Thank God!” Ricky watched in fascination as the mother spit on the pacifier, then wiped it on the sleeve of her shirt before jamming it into the kid’s mouth. The dog stopped barking. The silence thundered in Ricky’s ears.
    â€œI don’t know how to thank you.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I’m glad your son is happy.”
    â€œYou can’t just buy a new one because it doesn’t taste the same. He’s got it all broken in. You know, it fits and feels right in his mouth. Sometimes if you buy a new one and boil it for like ten hours, it swells up, but my kid knows the difference. One time he cried for six hours. I wanted to kill him.”
    â€œUh-huh,” was all Ricky could think of to say. So this was what he’d missed by not being married and raising kids. He wondered if his two sons had had