Gertrude Hardy watched the younger blond woman as they waited outside the store for Fenton and Agnes to come back to the vehicle. With the recent heavy snowfall, it was deemed more sensible for them to take Francis’s Suburban into town, instead of one of the cars. Agnes hated to drive the big SUV so her son ended up being the shuttle driver for the day.

Fenton put up a fuss, muttering about being ‘a pack mule with a license,’ but no one paid him much mind, knowing that he really didn’t mind doing so, and it afforded his father some alone time with the boys. His sister had been wanting to talk to Laura since Christmas, but had not found the perfect chance to do so, until now…

Clearing her throat slightly, Gertrude chose her words carefully. She was not very good at expressing her thoughts and didn’t want to come off abrupt or uncaring when she wasn’t. She was genuinely fond of her sister-in-law and her brother’s young family.

Laura glanced at her and the older woman licked her lips nervously and then asked quietly, “So how are you doing? Really?” Gert wasn’t stupid, she knew that the petite woman would do anything for Fenton, and she was afraid that this might be one of those times, when Laura might be putting him ahead of herself. While the matronly Hardy did like Joey, she just wanted to make sure everything was exactly how it looked.

The blond woman knew what she was really asking and smiled gently, reaching out to touch Gertrude’s arm slightly. “I’m doing very well. Better in fact than I’ve been for a long while—”  She paused, her pale blue eyes clouding over in pain briefly as she continued, “it was hard – in the beginning…after the baby….I felt like something was missing. That I’d lost a part of me I wasn’t sure I’d ever get back. I dunno….Empty. Hollow…I – I can’t really explain it…”

Gertrude put her hand over Laura’s and squeezed – she understood what the other woman was trying to say, even if there was no way she could feel it.

The sadness on Laura’s face was replaced with something else. “But now that we have Joey, I don’t feel like that so much anymore.” She smiled softly.  “It’s like I finally have that missing piece – I know it doesn’t make any sense. But he belongs….That’s just the best way I can say it. I know it deep down and I can feel it right here—”  She moved her hand and touched her coat in the place right over her heart. “He’s my son.” She smiled. “I have my family, Gertrude, and right now I just couldn’t be happier.”

The older woman swallowed back the lump in her throat that had formed as she listened to her sister-in-law’s very candid answer. Gertrude nodded, pleased and relieved, an awkward smile twisting her lips. Laura was a very good woman. She deserved to be happy – to have her family – to have Fenton. They were good for each other.

“That’s very good,” was all Gertrude could say. And she meant it from the bottom of her heart.

“Now if Fenton and your mom would hurry up,” Laura added, shifting her gaze back to the store, “we might get back to the house before my sons graduate!”

Gertrude laughed – oh yes, Laura was perfect for Fenton!

* * *

“What’s the matter?” Joe asked Frank as he saw the unaccustomed scowl on the older boy’s face. They were in the small room the boys were sharing, but while Joe was sitting on the edge of the bed holding the book his brother had dropped there, Frank was standing by the door, glaring at it.

“Poppy!” Frank said, “he’s acting all mean and angry! It’s because of that strange man – I just know it! What does he want, anyways?”

“Oh,” Joe said, unsure of how to respond. He didn’t see anything particularly wrong with how Francis had treated them, but then again he didn’t know the old man as well as his brother did. “What do you want to do?” he added a moment later.

“I want to go downstairs and tell that man to leave so Poppy’ll be okay again. But he’ll only be madder if we do that.”  The dark-haired boy kicked the door with his foot. Not hard enough to hurt or to be heard downstairs, but it made him feel a bit better. He sighed and looked at the younger boy.  “What do you want to do?”

Joe looked at the book and then Frank. His face crinkled thoughtfully and his brother actually had to laugh at the intense seriousness on the young face. Finally he shrugged, “We can read the book like we were going to…”

“Yeah—”  Frank agreed slowly and then added, “or?”

“Or,” a twinkle of mischievousness lit up the blue eyes, “we can hide on the top of the stairs and see what we can find out about the stranger.” When the older boy looked a bit skeptical, the child continued, “I’m really good at sneaking. Just do what I do, and they won’t ever know we’re there!”

Frank opened his mouth to ask Joe how he got so good at sneaking but then stopped. In the short time he had known his little brother, he had learned that there were certain things the blond boy would not talk to him about – namely anything that had to do with his life before coming to live with him. So he just accepted what Joe said without asking; guessing correctly that the ability to move around the orphanage soundlessly was a survival skill…

“Okay,” Frank nodded once, “we sneak.”

Putting the book down, Joe slipped quietly off the bed and over to the door. Pressing his ear against it, his hand gently turned the knob. He looked at Frank, put his finger over his lips in a ‘be quiet’ gesture and noiselessly led them out of the room…

* * *

“What?” Francis wanted to roar but somehow managed enough restraint not to – knowing the children would hear.

“You heard me, old man,” Rigado said, rising from the bench as he spoke. Sam growled but stayed sitting. “That boy – Joey – he’s my son. Your son has him and I want him back.”

“You’re crazy,” the ex-cop scoffed, feeling heat rise in his face.  “His father is unknown—”

“What else do you think they’d say?” the younger man retorted. “Just how naïve are you?” he continued, before Francis could answer, “The point is moot anyway.  I’m the kid’s father and that’s that.  Besides, my business is with your son, not you.”

“Anything concerning my son or his boys concerns me,” Francis growled, resisting the strong urge to throttle this man. “But if you think you can just waltz in here, proclaim your paternity and then waltz right back out with that child – you’ve got another think coming!”

The two men glared at one other for a full minute until finally Rigado put up his hands in a placating gesture.  “Whoa, easy, old fella! Don’t have a heart attack or something. I think we can work this out to the betterment of everyone concerned – assuming that is, that your son is a reasonable man.”

“Just what the hell are you talking about?” the retiree demanded, but Rigado shook his head and sat back down.

“Uh-uh. Not until Fenton is here. I don’t like repeating myself.”

“Fine,” Francis said, folding his arms and locking eyes with the other man, “we wait.”

And they did. For almost an hour, the ex-cop glared at the other man, who shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze until finally they heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up out front…

“He’s here,” Francis announced but still didn’t move. When Agnes, Gertrude, Laura and Fenton came into the house a few minutes later, laden down with the fruits of their shopping, the ex-cop excused himself and his son immediately, dismissing the women’s questions about the stranger as ‘no one important.’  Indicating for Rigado to follow them, the men stepped outside the house and away from eager ears.

* * *

The two little boys crept back into their room…

“Well that was a complete waste of time,” Frank grouched, slumping down on the bed. It had been incredibly difficult to be quiet for the long time his grandfather and the stranger had stood in their stalemate. The boy had actually breathed a big sigh of relief when he heard everyone else finally get home. He had newfound respect for his younger brother, though – Frank knew Joe was a fidgeter, yet somehow the blond child seemed to have no trouble holding his position, being quiet and not moving for almost an hour!

“Yeah,” Joe agreed, lying down on the bed on his back, next to Frank, “we learned one thing though.”

The dark-haired boy looked at him and Joe continued, “It’s something to do with me.”

* * *

The snow crunched under their feet as the three men moved away from the house, until Francis was satisfied that they had gone far enough. He turned to Fenton and said bluntly, “This man is claiming to be Joey’s father.”

“What?” Fenton’s voice rang with disbelief even as his face paled. He sized the stranger up, noting the dark curly hair, the dark eyes and the ruddy complexion. Joe looked nothing like this man.

“You heard him,” Rigado said, his voice nasty and curt, “I’m the brat’s father.” Both Fenton and Francis stiffened – if this guy was Joe’s father he obviously didn’t care about the child at all.

“What do you want?”  The amount of coldness in the younger Hardy’s voice surprised both him and his father.

Rigado smiled and it was not a pleasant thing to see. “It’s simple, “ he said, “You like my kid. That’s easy enough to see – and I need money. Can I be any clearer than that?”

Fenton’s fist was flying before anyone could react. Cracking against the stranger’s jaw, he knocked Rigado to the ground.

“Get the hell out of here,” he growled; Francis came to stand behind him, as he towered over the fallen man – not to stop him but as backup…

The man flexed his jaw cautiously but didn’t move.

“You heard me,” Fenton continued in the same low and deadly tone, “Get the hell out of here. Now! Stay away from me. Stay away from my family. If I see you anywhere near my sons I will have you arrested. Have I made myself clear?”

Slowly Rigado got to his feet. “Crystal,” he said and started to move away. He stopped near his car and looked back at the Hardy men.  “You’ll regret this,” he promised. “You should have taken my offer.”

Francis restrained Fenton before the young detective could go after the man and pummel him. “He’s not worth it, son,” the ex-cop said. “I got his name and the tag on that car. Let me make a few calls and see what we can find out about this Joe Rigado.”

Fenton glanced at his father when he heard the name and then nodded:  “We’ll get him the smart way.”

“The only way,” Francis added, squeezing his son’s shoulder gently. They watched the car pulling away from the house until it was out of sight. Then they went back inside; Fenton was filled with a very strong desire to see his sons.

* * *

As Rigado drove away from the house, he rubbed his jaw gingerly. Damn it, the detective threw a mean punch!

“Fine,” he snorted, “the hard way it is…”

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.