What’s Not True: A Novel

by Valerie Taylor

  “Did he see her all those years he was seeing you? Friends with benefits?”

  “Not sure, I haven’t asked, but it’s possible. We weren’t committed. Remember I was married. I never asked him if he saw other people. I never asked him not to. I guess I hoped he didn’t. I was in no position to ask him to be faithful to me.”

  “Are you in a different position now, Mrs. Ricci?”

  “Yes, I’d say I am. But don’t call me that. Chris and I are engaged to be engaged.” Kassie showed Annie the ring up close. “I’ll make it official once the divorce is final and switch it to the other hand. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Please say so.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say. I’m with you one hundred percent. But where does Lexi fit in this scenario?”

  “Once everything fell apart between us last year and Chris permanently joined the company, he flew back to San Francisco to pack and move here. He and Lexi got together again, I gather.”

  “For old times’ sake, sounds like.”

  “You make it sound naughty.”

  “I call ’em like I see ’em. Did he tell her about you?”

  “Kind of. He says it was her idea for us to put Venice in the rearview mirror and fly to Paris for the week.”

  “Seems I have competition. It was my idea for Chris to surprise you in Venice to begin with.”

  “I know. Don’t feel bad. He told me. I love you for that.” Kassie hugged Annie. “I noticed an Athens stamp in his passport. I bet they went there earlier this year. So Greece was probably out. He claims Lexi thought Paris would give us a new, fresh start.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” Annie pouted.

  “You did the right thing. Venice was about closure. There would’ve been no logical reason for me to go to Paris, to meet you in Paris.”

  “Except I’ve never been to Paris.”

  “Well, get ready to check it off your bucket list. You’ll have a very good reason to go soon.”

  Annie’s eyes widened as she touched the wine glass to her lips. “How so?”

  Kassie held on to the couch, stood up, and wobbled around the room, bumping into end tables and chairs. Leaving nothing to Annie’s imagination, she relayed the entire soup-to-nuts story, including the Uber man-eater. Bottom line, the position in Paris was the chance of a lifetime, or at least the chance of her career, even if it was temporary. Top management’s clearest indicator that she’d arrived; they’d trust her to handle the merger of an international office while continuing to manage and grow the business. Kassie did a happy dance before handing Annie her glass and rushing down the hall before she wet her pants.

  “How long will this opportunity of a lifetime last?” Annie asked after first asking Kassie if she’d washed her hands.

  “Yes, mother. Am I supposed to ask your permission to work in Paris?”

  “No, just wondering—”

  “Oh my God. Topher, you’re worried that I’ll saddle you with him?”

  “No, just wondering—”

  “Don’t worry, Chris will take him. Comes with the territory.” She waved the ring.

  “It’s not Topher I’m wondering about. It’s Chris-topher, you ninny.”

  “Why worry about Chris?” Kassie gave Annie a what-are-you-kidding-me eye roll. “I think he’s good with this, or he will be when I’m finished convincing him. Anyway, he’ll be super busy with his company, especially if Mike takes an extended leave—which, by the way, he should. I’ll be gone less than a year. We’ve survived a long-distance relationship before.”

  Annie’s eyebrows rose as high as humanly possible. “There are no guarantees. Look what happened last year. You thought you had it all figured out, and then poof—it was gone.”

  “Things are different now. And so much drama. Kidney swaps. Ricci and Son. Out of the friggin’ blue I became a stepmother to the fellow I was sleeping with.”

  “Get over it, girl. Didn’t your trip to Venice teach you anything? You never were a stepmother in the truest sense of the word. You weren’t then, and you’re not now.”

  Kassie lowered her head and gripped her face with her hands. Had she replaced her motherhood obsession with a stepmother fixation? Maybe Annie was onto something.

  “So why is Lexi calling him now when she thinks he’s in Paris with you?”

  Kassie peered straight at Annie. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  Annie handed Kassie a tumbler of hot tea and shooed her out the door, curtailing their plans to have Kassie stay the night. It was after eleven when she pulled into a spot under a streetlight on the road parallel to the apartment in Charlestown. She wondered whether that was the scene of the crime—the smooch heard around the city of Boston. She glanced up at the building, not knowing which apartment was Karen’s, yet wondering if she saw Kassie pull in and get out of the car.

  Truth be known, by the time she’d arrived in Charlestown, any notion of giving Karen a fair shake had scampered away. So it seemed, Karen was not the benevolent lady friend she’d held herself out to be when they first met in Chicago. Kassie shook her head, grasping the irony of it all. Karen’s selfishness, not her selflessness, had sent Mike back to the hospital in as serious a condition as Karen supposedly rescued him from. And the latest development had the potential to hurt Chris and Sarah—the very people Karen and Charlie supposedly loved the most.

  Kassie hoisted the overnight bag she’d repacked at Annie’s out of the trunk and grabbed her purse and the mail that had arrived while she was away. From that moment forward, Kassie decided she didn’t give a flying giraffe what Karen thought or wanted.

  Kassie was home where she belonged, at least until she left for Paris.

  She buzzed their apartment. He let her in . . . as did she him.

  39

  Breaking News

  Chris held the door open, wearing the silk blue boxers Kassie had bought him the year after their first meetup in Venice and a Red Sox T-shirt. Man after her own heart. As he swallowed her in his arms, she dropped her overnight bag, her purse, her briefcase, and the mail she’d picked up at Annie’s.

  As usual, her knees weakened at his touch, and as she breathed his just-showered green-apple scent, their limbs tangled like octopuses in heat. On her way there, she hadn’t foreseen a booty call, but what the hell.

  Chris kicked the door shut, neither of them caring if they annoyed the neighbors with the racket caused when Chris shoved the coffee table and side chair out of their way. Whatever. The neighbors might as well get used to the oohs and aahs emanating from the third floor. Perhaps they’d find it inspirational instead of nerve-wracking. Needless to say, the two lovebirds didn’t quite make it to the bedroom for their first go-round.

  A short time later, they curled up in bed and did what Kassie intended they do when she left Annie’s place.

  They talked. All things Paris, Mike and Karen and Charlie, Sarah, and Lexi. Not necessarily in that order, but all relevant topics just the same. They talked. And talked. And talked. Until the wee hours of the morning. Jet lag be damned. With no place to go on Thursday, they could stay up all night if they wanted. Staying in bed all day long as if they were young lovers or newlyweds was an option they considered. Sounded good to Kassie.

  Not all the problems of their world were solved that night, or was it morning? She could never figure that one out. Stymied by one of life’s major flip-flops—when children are forced to parent their parents—they agreed to postpone any attempt to solve the dilemma facing Chris for another day.

  To Kassie’s delight, Chris unequivocally agreed and wholeheartedly supported the Paris assignment.

  “Stop jumping,” he said. “You’ll break the bed.”

  “If we break it, it won’t be because of me jumping.” Round two commenced.

  Afterward, confident in her future, Kassie raised the least discussed topic: Lexi.

  “Why’d she call? If she thought we were in Paris, why’d she call you?”

  Chris hemmed and hawed. Anyone with
even the slightest intuition would sense he really, really didn’t want to talk about Lexi. He yawned . . . a lot. And rubbed his eyes. Was she thirsty? He needed water. Hold that thought. He’d be right back.

  At long last, Chris stood at the foot of the bed with his arms folded across his chest and told her what he and Lexi talked about.

  “She’s coming to Boston . . . soon.”

  “So I’ll meet her.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “When?”

  “She suggested Sunday.”

  “Sunday. Whoa. The last day of our vacation. What’s the rush?”

  “I don’t think there’s a rush.” Chris wore out the carpet. “I explained how right now may not be a good time with Mike in the hospital.” His fingers thinned his hair. “I’m going to be very busy at the office. I told her I’d get back to her. We’d figure out a mutually beneficial date.” He slid off his boxers and into bed next to Kassie.

  Kassie asked Alexa the time. “It’s 2:23 a.m.” She told Alexa to turn off the lights, and they spooned.

  “Before I leave for Paris?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Holy shit, whose phone is that?” Kassie bolted upright and poked Chris in the hip. Being otherwise engaged earlier, they’d left their phones where they belonged—not in the bedroom.

  Always the gentleman, even when naked, Chris bounded into the living room, returning with hers.

  “Local number.” He handed the phone to her.

  “Hello? Yes, this is Kassandra Ricci. Oh, no. Can’t be.” Her sleepy eyes widened as she dug her fingernails into Chris’s arm.

  “He’s dead,” she mouthed to him and pointed to her wrist.

  “Alexa, what time is it?” Chris asked.

  Kassie glared at him as she jumped out of bed, holding the phone in one hand and wrapping a small beige blanket around her waist with the other.

  “It’s 5:42 a.m.,” Alexa said as Kassie passed through the doorway and into the kitchen, shaking her head. There’s a time and place for gadgets. Now is neither the time nor the place.

  Clad only in his boxers, Chris followed her into the kitchen, picking up the envelopes and flyers she’d strewn on the floor upon her late-night arrival. Despite her body shaking as it often did when she’d climb into the dentist’s chair, and her hands feeling like ice, Kassie calculated what time they’d be able to get to the hospital.

  “If we’re there between seven thirty and eight, where should we go? Who should we see?”

  Rattled, she placed the phone in the sink and slumped to the floor. Chris joined her and clutched her hands.

  “Massive heart attack. Nothing they could do.”

  “So much for a new kidney. Wonder if the disease and the transplant were just too much for his body to handle?”

  “Seems like it, though we’ll never know.” Kassie’s voice cracked. She leaned on Chris to help her get to her feet.

  “Guess we can’t stay under the covers all day.”

  “Oh, how I’d like to.” Kassie shook her hands in the air. “I’ll shower and then I’ll figure out what’s next.”

  “Should I—”

  “No, don’t call anyone yet. Too early.” She read his mind. She grabbed the FedEx envelope that was on top of the pile and retrieved her phone out of the sink. How did that get there?

  Kassie ratcheted up the hot water as high as she could stand until Chris intervened.

  “Hey, you’ll set off the smoke alarm. Turn it down in there.”

  She gasped, almost choking on the stream of water she’d inhaled, and did as she was told. Had he heard her crying? More like weeping. Poor Mike. He’d fought a good fight with his kidneys, and then his heart shut him down.

  Mirrors don’t lie. With the palm of her hand, she cleared away a circle of steam. She leaned in, her nose almost touching its reflection. Her eyes, pink from tears and weary from little sleep, gave her soul away. Even though she couldn’t live with him, be tied to him as his wife, she didn’t want Mike to die. If that were the case, she wouldn’t have gone to the ends of the earth—well, actually, just to Chicago—to locate Karen, his ultimate savior. Or so everyone thought.

  Oh no, Karen. Someone’s going to have to tell her.

  “I’m glad you’re here and not at Annie’s.” Chris joined her in the bathroom as she toweled off.

  “How you doin’?” Kassie tried desperately not to sound like Joey from Friends.

  “Sad. And disappointed.” Chris’s lips turned down. “We were just starting to get to know each other. To be honest, it feels more like a good friend died than a blood relative. I think I’d freak if Sarah suddenly died, or Charlie.”

  “Really, Charlie? Despite what Mike told me yesterday?”

  “Of course. He’s still my father. Sarah’s still my mother. They adopted me. Mike and Karen gave me away. If I can forgive Mike and Karen for that, I should be able to forgive Charlie for being a dick with a dick.”

  Kassie crawled onto the bed. “Come here, sit next to me.”

  She massaged Chris’s back and kissed his shoulder. “You’re the best thing that ever came into my life.”

  “I could’ve told you that.”

  “Seriously. You are a sweet, caring, and gentle man. Oh, and forgiving too. Did I mention that?”

  “Keep going. . . . ”

  “It took me forever to forgive my mother for her duplicitousness, and I’m not sure I’ve totally forgiven Mike yet for his, though we both tried to go down that path in the hospital yesterday.”

  “How so?”

  Kassie related the “I’ll forgive you, if you forgive me” conversation. “Mike wants us to be happy. I believe that. And now he’s dead. How can I hold a grudge against someone who can’t hurt me any longer?”

  “Sounds like you’ve answered your own question. You can’t.”

  Chris handed her the overnight envelope from Mike. “Shouldn’t you open this?”

  “Why? We know what’s in it. He told us yesterday.” She reneged, peeling the strip. “Okay, let’s do this.” Two envelopes fell on the bed. Kassie groaned as she moved into a yoga position. “My knees are screaming at me.”

  Chris rubbed them, ignoring the envelope with his name.

  Kassie opened her envelope and read what appeared to be a cover letter.

  Dear Kassie,

  Just a quickie. LOL. If you’re reading this, hopefully I’ve gone upstairs and joined your mother. Surely, she’s in heaven with your father and not expecting me to show up and crash their party.

  You’ll see on the enclosed I’ve made some changes to my will that I’m sending on to my lawyer and accountant, oh, and to Bill. I wanted to be sure he gets a little slice of the pie for his loyalty and friendship. Needless to say, you and Chris are still well taken care of, I believe.

  If I’m allowed one last confession, it is this. Years ago when we had next to nothing, I wish you had joined me in starting Ricci and Associates. I know, I know you had your own booming career. I just think we would’ve smashed it had it been Ricci and O’Callaghan.

  When I’m gone, I know in my heart, as the new majority owner, you’ll take it to the moon and back. Wave to me on your way.

  Mike

  Kassie was crying, again. Waterworks was not her usual modus operandi. “Clever of him, don’t you think, to bring my mother into this? Always knew my hot buttons.”

  Chris held her and stroked her wet hair. “Do you think he had a premonition?”

  “You mean after thirty years of marriage my clairvoyance rubbed off on him? What, by osmosis? Doubt it. More than likely, he wanted to do something for Bill. Make his gratitude legal.”

  “That may be, but the company’s yours, boss. Time to get a move on.”

  Kassie pushed him aside, wiped her cheeks, and hopped off the bed. “Don’t call me that. Just an owner, not the boss. I have my own job. It’s up to you and Bill now. Speaking of which, where’s my briefcase?” She rushed into the living room.

&nb
sp; Flipping through the more than half-full notebook, she said, “I need to go to Target or Barnes & Noble today. I need a new Moleskine.” Using her fingers, she mumbled, “Mike’s estate. The company. Paris. Three, I need three.”

  “Paris, you’re not . . .”

  “Don’t go there, Chris.” Kassie pointed her index finger to the ceiling. “Not now. I’ll figure this out. First things first. I think you should call Bill and decide how best to inform everyone at the office. Maybe you need to go in for a bit.”

  “Shouldn’t you?”

  “Uh, no. That would be awkward. Especially with Karen—”

  “Karen. Who’ll tell her?”

  They played rock-paper-scissors.

  “Not fair. She’s your mother. You should tell her. Let’s play again.”

  “No you don’t. You can do this. Mike would want it to be you. Woman to woman.”

  Kassie lacked Chris’s confidence. As she dressed, she practiced how she’d break the news to her archenemy.

  40

  You’re Not the Boss of Me

  Before heading into the lioness’s den, Kassie called Annie. Six thirty could be early for some folks, but Annie would’ve already downed her second cup of coffee, as well as folded and put away her first load of laundry. No wonder they stayed best friends forever.

  When she answered, Kassie minced no words, she just said it. Perhaps rehearsing.

  “Mike’s dead. Massive heart attack.”

  “You’re shittin’ me.”

  “Would I lie about something like that?”

  “No, of course not. I’m sorry. How did you find out?”

  “Hospital called me. Next of kin. Still his wife. Can you believe, two months to go and maybe . . .”

  “What? Don’t go there. They would’ve called Chris, if he hadn’t married Karen. Except, given the events of this week, the likelihood of that ever happening was slim to none. Face it, whether today or two or three months from now, you’re it, kiddo.”

  “People keep saying that.”

  “What?”

  “I’m it. Chris just called me boss.” Kassie gave Annie the highlights of Mike’s letter. “Chris thinks I should address Mike’s staff today. Not sure I’d have time even if I wanted to.”