FOUR SMART MEN

"Mom's gonna be so choked," Jamie said, as the four of them peered out the window at Amanda's Jeep Wagoneer, which sat in a parking stall at the very edge of the lot. The car sported a large dent, some deep scraping along its entire side, and a sheet of plastic — held in place with haphazard strips of duct tape — instead of a rear passenger window.

Lee sighed and looked guiltily across the table at Joe, who lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. Amanda had waved them all off a few days before with the cheerful advice to "be careful!" And they had been. And still.

"We'll get it fixed and it'll be just like new," Lee said. "She'll be fine." Joe wasn't sure whether he meant the car or Amanda.

"This car hasn't gotten smashed up as much as the old one," Jamie said. "That one was always having stuff happen to it."

"Yeah. I know." Lee caught Joe's eye again and Joe felt a little flutter of amusement in his chest. The corner of his mouth twitched and he saw that Lee was trying to smother a smile. "I'm sure she'll be okay when we explain."

Joe snorted softly into his coffee cup.

"No one was hurt," Phillip said. "That's what she'll say. Thank goodness no one was hurt."

"Not even you," Jamie teased, then frowned at the bruise on his brother's forehead. "I mean, mostly. Not like the time with the jet ski."

Phillip rolled his eyes. "That wasn't so bad. I didn't even need stitches. Anyway, this wasn't our fault and insurance is going to cover it, right, Lee?"

"Uh, yeah. It should." Not that it had made Lee feel any better — Joe knew that. Insurance was going to be a hassle, just another hassle on the end of a long trip full of them.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," he said. "We left it parked in the hotel lot in a designated spot. It's not our fault someone's new at backing up their trailer." Joe had been driving, and he'd chosen the spot, and he wondered if his assertion sounded like he was trying to convince himself they weren't at fault in any way. But how could any of them have seen it coming? It wasn't even a spot near the door — it was in an innocuous stall halfway down, not so far from the bottom of the stairs that led up to their second-floor rooms.

He'd offered to pay half the deductible but Lee had told him it was fine. It was the least he could do, Joe reasoned, when Lee had argued with him about it as they stood together under the beating sun, taping a sheet of plastic over the window. They'd split food and driving and gas and the hotel, and they could split this, too.

And then Lee had seen someone he recognized, and let the argument drop. Joe had watched him watch the man across the parking lot, eyes narrow, fiddling with a roll of duct tape but paying attention to every move this other guy — a heavyset fellow in his fifties, dressed for the golf course — made as he put a bag in his trunk, took another one out, and disappeared back inside.

'You know him?" Joe had murmured, the plastic fluttering in a breeze that offered no reprieve from the heat.

"Uh," Lee picked at the end of the tape, cursing softly as it refused to budge, "he looked familiar, yeah."

"From the, uh, golf course?"

Lee chuckled, then, and looked up to meet Joe's eyes. "Yeah. You could say that. I beat him once at a course in Berlin."

"Is he, uh… looking for a rematch?"

Lee shook his head. "Nah. Probably not. I think he gave up the game. You'd be surprised how many ex-pros are floating around." He tugged at the tape with his teeth, then waited for Joe to smooth the edge of the plastic before sticking it down. "I might put in a call just to double check, though. They can send someone out to take a look."

"Not you?"

"No." Lee shook his head. "Not with the boys along. I'm just a regular guy on vacation." He tugged at the tape again and turned his back to the hotel, concentrating on his task. Joe found himself watching the door, waiting for the golfer to come out again. He was obvious enough about it that Lee finally said, without looking up, "Don't worry about it, Joe. He's not the type to cause a fuss."

Joe knew the Agency had sent someone to take a look because there was a man reading a newspaper on the patio almost all afternoon that day, and he wasn't as subtle about it as Lee. Lee had laughed when Joe brought it up as they sipped beers on a restaurant patio that afternoon, waiting for the boys to finish their thousandth game of Street Fighter in the arcade across the street. "Oh yeah, they sent Fielder. He's not good at subtle, but that's a pretty big signal about the threat level."

"You mean it's low?"

"I'd guess it's almost non-existent," Lee admitted. "Billy told me Benedek spilled his guts and let the US government set him up in a nice condo in Miami. Year-round golf in exchange for some pretty juicy secrets from his side. He's still got a lot of friends overseas, if you know what I mean, so he's happy to grease the wheels now and then to pay his club fees." He'd settled in his chair, looking for all the world like the regular guy on vacation he'd said he was. Joe had envied him and it had obviously shown on his face, because Lee lifted his sunglasses to look at him directly. "If there was even a hint of something going on I'd have checked us outta here the second I found out."

Joe knew that. Of course he did. He'd seen Lee take down Joel Prescott in the Arlington Middle School gym to make sure Phillip and Jamie were safe from harm. He couldn't help but trust the guy, even after he and Amanda had disappeared together in a case serious enough for "shoot to kill" orders. He'd never felt his trust had been misplaced beyond a moment of doubt when Amanda had been shot in California. But Lee had explained that as an unfortunate accident, and Joe believed him — it hadn't been hard to see he was telling the truth.

He didn't like to think about those weeks. None of them did, but for him they felt like a particular sort of failure. He'd been unable to make any kind of connection with the boys at the time — the whole dynamic of their relationship had changed and the boys had worked on pushing every limit. He'd somehow found himself channeling his father, imposing rules and routine and hoping they'd find comfort in structure when nothing short of having their mother back would have given them that. He'd finally thrown up his hands in defeat and Dotty had come back to take over. And he'd retreated home to Carrie, who'd tried to offer comforting words but had really just emphasized for him how much he'd missed in his sons' lives.

Lee had come to the rescue again there, too. Not right away — Joe and Carrie had gone back to Estoccia and during visits Lee had kept his distance, until a few months before, when he'd approached Joe and suggested it might be good for the boys if they acted like partners instead of shift workers. And so on his month-long visit the fall before, they'd gone to the boys' games and school events together — sometimes with Amanda and Carrie, sometimes alone.

It was awkward at first. They'd sat side by side in painful silence, making the briefest of comments about Phillip's race time or Jamie's defensive play. If their wives came along they positioned the two women together in between them, almost as a reflex. But gradually during that month they began to relax. By the time Joe and Carrie went back to Estoccia they'd made plans for his next visit — a hockey game, the movies, possibly a day skiing.

But vacation? Joe had heard about the summer trips Lee had taken with the boys, and thought about doing one of his own. The invitation to join theirs had come as a complete surprise.

He'd seen his sons and Lee interact at family gatherings and outings enough to know they were comfortable with each other, and he'd become more comfortable, too. There were other people around, or there was a deadline of sorts — track meets didn't last for days on end. Not four days of them all together, confined to a car or two hotel rooms. Conversing over dinner or trying to keep everyone amused. What if he ruined the dynamic?

But Carrie gave him a swift elbow to the ribs and he said yes, sure, he'd love to come. Whatever they had planned, didn't matter to him. He'd crossed his fingers as he'd said it and hoped it wasn't some kind of extreme outdoor adventure — survival camp or something. You never knew with spies. But it turned out Lee wasn't as big a fan of roughing it as the boys, and while they'd camped in the past they'd decided to book two hotel rooms in a beach town about four hours away. There was some sort of car show on that weekend and a carnival down at the beach and Phillip had a drawstring bag full of quarters to burn up on prizes.

"We did this last year, too," Phillip told him as they left the city behind them, Lee behind the wheel. He was already rooting around in a huge bag of road snacks, which included a box of Dotty's cookies. And then Jamie had launched into a retelling of how Phillip had run a jet-ski into the dock. Joe had watched Lee's hands tighten on the wheel as the story progressed, especially at the part where they'd all agreed not to tell Amanda until they got home.

"But no one's going to do anything dumb this year, right?" Lee had said, turning halfway in his seat to look at Phillip.

"Course not," Phillip said. "We're four smart men."

Joe and Lee had both laughed at that. And then everyone had instantly relaxed.

Sitting in the diner looking at Amanda's car, Joe wasn't so sure they really were four smart men. Phillip had blown his bag of quarters in an hour flat and was sporting a massive bruise over one eye thanks to an accidental elbowing during a beach volleyball game. They were all sunburned from an afternoon poring over vintage automobiles. Jamie had sand in his camera and was going to have to take it to be professionally cleaned. And the car.

"We're a raggedy bunch," he said after a minute, and Lee chuckled.

"Postmortem," Phillip said, suddenly, stirring his milkshake with his straw.

Joe blinked. "What's that?"

"We go over what we liked and didn't like on the trip," Lee said. "And then we plan next year accordingly."

"I see." Joe nodded.

"You go first, Dad," Jamie suggested.

Joe sipped his drink. He wasn't going to say the trip had been far better than he'd expected. That sounded terrible. Jamie was watching him expectantly, truly interested in his answer, and he was going to tread carefully. "No dislikes," he said after a minute. "Except the idiot with the trailer."

"Yeah, we coulda skipped that loser," Jamie agreed. "That was my least favorite part, too."

"I'm pretty sure it's unanimous," Lee said.

"Yup." Phillip's straw made a sucking sound as he dragged on it. He caught Joe's eye across the table and looked sheepish. "Sorry." He shifted in his seat, and they all knew he was going to say something that could set someone off. "I really wasn't sure we'd have a good time."

"Phillip," Lee protested. "It was your idea."

"Yeah, but… it coulda been really awkward. I mean, Dad, I could tell you were worried it was going to be awkward."

Lee looked across the table at Joe, his eyes twinkling, and Joe knew he was thinking of the conversation they'd had on the beach, while they watched the boys swimming, when Joe had brought up the invitation and how he hadn't wanted to say no because the boys were asking, but he also hadn't wanted to ruin a tradition Lee had started with them.

"I wouldn't call it a tradition," Lee had said, adjusting his sunglasses. Joe thought he looked like he lived at the beach somehow, already sun-kissed and (seemingly) chilled right out. As if he spent his entire life in swim trunks and a t-shirt. It was probably why he was so good at his job. "This is only our third time."

"You know what I mean." Joe had leaned back on his elbows, watching the waves lap at the shore. Phillip was talking to a group of teens down by the water but Jamie was bobbing around in the waves, practicing his front crawl. He'd been struggling with it, and Joe, an avid swimmer, could see exactly where his form was off.

"Yeah, but that's not what it is," Lee had insisted. "We invited Amanda along last year, too. She didn't come because she said she was saving her vacation for Christmas, but I think she really just wanted a few days to herself. She'd never admit that, though."

"Not in a million years." Joe paused. "What does she do while you're away, anyway?"

"Cleans out the closets," Lee said. "Throws out stuff the boys have been hanging onto. Basks in the quiet. Dotty will probably make her get out and do something but I think she'd just as happily sit on the patio with a glass of iced tea and a book."

"I guess she gets enough excitement at work."

"Not as much as she used to," Lee had said, chuckling. "Neither one of us does."

"Phillip said as much," Joe had commented. "He said you both have boring desk jobs now."

"Phillip —" Lee began, and then paused, watching the subject of their conversation move down the beach with a group of new friends, towards a beach volleyball game. Jamie was still bobbing in the water, alone but unconcerned.

"Is too direct sometimes," Joe finished.

Lee laughed and shrugged. "I'm not sure he'll ever have a career as a diplomat."

"I like to think it's a skill that'll serve him well eventually," Joe said. "In some capacity."

"Sure." Lee had smirked, reaching into the cooler beside him for a bottle of beer, which he held out to Joe. "Professional ice-breaker."

Now Joe watched his oldest son across the table, where he slouched in the booth beside Lee. "Yeah," he said. "You're right. I was worried it'd be awkward. I think we all were."

Jamie blew out a slow breath and rolled his eyes. "You can say that again." His cheeks colored right after he spoke, as if he'd said something rude, and he leaned a shoulder against Joe's arm. "You know what I mean."

Joe knew. It wasn't lost on him that starting a friendship of sorts with Lee had been easier than connecting with his youngest son. It also wasn't lost on him that the two things were probably connected — that as Joe's sporadic participation in his kids' lives had given way to something more regular and permanent, and as this strange new family they all shared had started to take shape, Jamie had relaxed. It probably wasn't fair, but Joe often thought of him as the barometer for how everyone was feeling. Jamie seemed comfortable now, and had for the entire trip, which in turn seemed to signal to everyone else that things were okay.

"Boy, do I," Joe said, laughing,

"But it wasn't," Jamie said, as Brenda approached with their food. "It was fun."

"I hope your little adventure wasn't as hard on you as it was on Amanda's Jeep," she said, as she set Joe's order — a BLT — in front of him. She peered at Phillip's forehead. "Any stitches this time?"

"I didn't need stitches last time," he countered, reaching for the plate she handed him. "I just caught an elbow, is all. And the car had nothing to do with me."

"So things proceeded as usual," she said, smirking. "Amanda was in here yesterday speculating about the level of damage but I don't think she anticipated anything quite like that car out there."

"You didn't call her?" Joe asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Lee shifted on the seat. "Ah, well. I called the insurance company and got the claim going, and then when I called the house she was out, so I figured…" His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

"She'd just worry," Joe finished for him, laughing.

"I'd have tried harder if one of us had actually been hurt," Lee said, looking guiltily at Brenda. "What else did she say when she was here?"

"Nothing," Brenda said. "She did look gloriously relaxed, even with Freddy Doyle for company." Her gaze drifted past them, to the Jeep sitting across the parking lot. "Though I suspect you might do what Doyle can no longer manage."

Joe had no idea who Freddy Doyle was, but he got the impression Brenda didn't like the guy much. And maybe Amanda didn't, either. He never could tell with his ex-wife, though — she was a master of the charm offensive when she needed to be.

Lee obviously didn't care for this Doyle person — or maybe Brenda's ribbing, which seemed awfully familiar for a waitress in a diner, no matter how regular her regulars were — because he rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Brenda continued, as if she hadn't seen Lee's expression, "it looks like you all had a decent time, so she'll be happy about that. I'll assume the car was just bad luck."

"Of course it was," Lee said, a momentary note of defensiveness in his voice. Then he nudged Phillip with his elbow, a dimple denting his cheek as he grinned across the table at Joe and Jamie. "You said it yourself, Phillip. We're four smart men."