by Mary Campisi
He’d done a splendid job explaining why she’d never be his son’s wife. The pain on her face and the way she stormed from the house told him she understood and would not return. Had she really believed she’d join the Alexander family? Status and wealth aside, did she not understand the animosity and dislike between the families? Apparently not, and that issue lay with Tate. The boy was too soft and let emotions rule rather than responsibility to family, but he’d learn. Once Harrison was back in power at the company with Tate at his side, his son would understand and appreciate real power.
Ah, but he felt wonderful, so like his old self. The foggy brain and memory lapses had disappeared ten days ago, but he’d feigned their continued existence to gain an advantage on the current state of his family and his business. It was quite interesting how people spat out information when they believed the other person in the room incapable of understanding and assessing their meaning. Oh, but he’d understood every single nuance, every word that swirled about him.
Tate and Charlotte Donovan were playing house and had plans to make it permanent, as in, a union was brewing.
Fred continued to avoid questions about the company and Harrison’s return date, which meant something was amiss. Did the board intend to attempt a forced retirement on him and replace him with his son? That was an issue that required immediate attention, and now that Charlotte Donovan had been disposed of, he could concentrate on it.
The staff thought him frail and unable to rule the house and therefore deferred to his son. Imagine that?
And last, but certainly the most interesting and laughable: everyone from the medical professionals to his son and the Donovan girl thought him a changed man, incapable of treachery or deceit to achieve an end. How very wrong they were!
“Sir, I have a Rose Donovan to see you.”
Rose? Harrison sat up, stared at the woman who’d owned his dreams and his heart since the first time he noticed her sipping coffee at the Cherry Top Diner. “Rose?” He stood, kept his voice even, his expression guarded. Had she finally decided to break her vow and speak to him? His chest swelled with hope as he took a step toward her. “It’s so good to see you.” Two more steps closer to the love of his life. She’d always been so beautiful, from the first time she’d smiled at him and sent his heart leaping with intrigue and a joy that was foreign to him. It didn’t matter that he could have had any woman he wanted, or that he was engaged to be married. Nothing mattered but the brunette with the blue eyes and a smile that invited him closer.
“How dare you speak to my daughter in that manner? Who do you think you are? Was it not enough that you tried to destroy the lives of so many, including your family, and your poor wife who had to die to escape you?”
“Rose… Don’t you know that you are the reason for my discontent? My heart shriveled the day you turned me away.”
The expression on her face did not look pleased, and when she spoke, her words contained a level of distaste he chose to ignore. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to forget my indiscretions. You had a chance to do right, to do good things for so many, and yet you chose to destroy people to build your empire.”
He moved toward her, extended a hand. “Surely, you must have known I did it all for you.” He’d believed that if he could triple his wealth and amass great fortune and authority over others, then the woman he loved would see the error of choosing a man who would never know prosperity in any form.
But she hadn’t.
Instead, she’d stood by Jonathan Donovan’s side, raised his children, believed in his damn dreams, and watched her world implode. After his death, Harrison had hoped she might come to him, admit she loved him, and perhaps in some small way had always done so…
But she hadn’t.
Instead, her daughter—the flesh and blood of Jonathan Donovan—had infiltrated the Alexander household and threatened to take over. Harrison would not permit Donovan blood residing in this household unless Rose were sitting by his side.
“Did you think I would accept the pillaging of a greedy man without a soul?”
Harrison sank onto the couch, sucked in a deep breath. “I thought you would accept reason and admit what we shared was real love, and if that bastard hadn’t intervened, we could have been together. I would have rejected duty and chosen you, Rose.”
He’d never forgotten the wondrous melody of her laughter, or the way it soothed him. But this time there was no soothing tone to her laughter. This time there was only mockery and derision. “You thought Jonathan was the reason I rejected you? You thought you were a choice?” More laughter suffocating the room. That mouth he’d once cherished opened and fractured his soul with her next words. “Jonathan Donovan owned my heart from the moment I first met him. And you? You were a mistake I have spent every breathing moment trying to forget.”
“But you told me...”
“Yes, I told you many things, but it didn’t make them true. There are good and honorable people in the world, and then there are liars like us.”
She didn’t mean it, couldn’t mean it… Not when he’d spent his life blaming another man for stealing Rose’s love. He would not accept her words as truth to a testimony of their relationship. “Why must you hide the truth? Can you not admit we shared something strong, even spiritual?”
She planted her hands on her hips, said in a voice filled with what sounded like disgust, “I will spend the rest of my life cursing you and regretting my stupidity. And you will make things right between your son and my daughter or I swear I will ruin you. I will tell the world you forced yourself on me, and worse, threatened my life if I told anyone.”
What was she saying? Why was she creating such lies? “Rose, why would you do that? I never forced you. Not once.” Their joining had been a union of body and soul that he’d never been able to find again, not with his wife, his mistresses, not with anyone.
Only Rose.
And now she was attempting to demean what they’d shared with cruel words and threats? As if she’d never cared? As if she’d only used him to get Jonathan Donovan, the man she really wanted?
“If I tell the world you forced me, who do you think they’ll believe? A distraught woman whose husband died because of a tragic scandal, or the monster who’s ruined every person who’s gotten in his way?” The laughter carried a melody that reminded him of the past. Rose approached him, stopped when she was a touch away. “If you interfere with Tate and Charlotte again, I will destroy you, Harrison. My husband couldn’t see the bad in people, but I’m not like him. I see the rot covered in fine clothing and perfect diction that masquerades as upstanding and righteous.” Her blue gaze narrowed as she inched closer, whispered, “Stay away from my family, or I will make you suffer.”
Camille was enjoying a salmon salad with avocado dressing at The Oak Table when her estranged husband walked in with his sex toy. She homed in on the woman with the pink angora sweater and gray tweed slacks. Damn that man! How dare he bring her here? Camille placed her hands on the table, leaned forward. “Nicki, did you see who just walked in?”
Her friend’s gaze shot to Carter and his plaything. “I’m so sorry, Camille. If I thought Jameson could kick them out, I’d have him do it in a second. But knowing Carter and that little girlfriend of his, they’d make sure it headlined tomorrow’s newspaper.”
“You mean your husband owns the place and he can’t say who stays or leaves?” She sniffed her annoyance. “Absurd.”
Nicki shrugged. “The Alexanders don’t do anything by the rules, so you never know what they might do.” Another shrug as she forked a hunk of lettuce. “I think we should ignore them and enjoy our salads.”
Camille let out a huff. Nicki was right, but still, there should be places that were off limits to an estranged spouse and his pregnant girlfriend. Did the man think it was acceptable to prance in here with his sex toy for all to see and comment? Was there no respect left for common decency? She chewed a bit of salmon, studied the woman cooing over Carte
r. There was something familiar about the sweater she wore…and those slacks… She gasped the second she recognized the outfit. “Did you see what she’s wearing?”
Nicki squinted. “It looks like a Ralph Lauren. Didn’t you bring one to the shop a few weeks ago?”
“I did, and that little tramp has the nerve to wear it.” Camille sucked in a breath, forced herself back to a calm state. “The question is, how did she get it? I certainly didn’t sell it to her, and I know you wouldn’t.”
“Do you think it was my sister-in-law? She’s been filling in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but she only started three weeks ago. How would Mindy know when she was working?”
“How indeed?” Camille had no idea, but she certainly intended to find out. She tossed her napkin on the table, slid out of the booth. “Excuse me a moment while I investigate.” She headed to the table where Carter and his sex bunny sat in plain sight for everyone to observe and comment on. Well, she’d give the restaurant something to talk about. “Hello, Carter. Fancy meeting you here.” She did not address or acknowledge the sex bunny.
He smiled, as close to charm as she’d ever seen, and offered a nonchalant “Hello, Cammie. I didn’t know you liked this place.” The little witch’s snicker said the man absolutely knew Camille’s luncheon routine.
“No? I’ve taken to eating here until the Cherry Top Diner cleans out its riffraff. I’m here every day at 12:45 p.m., so, if you wouldn’t mind lunching at a different hour, it might be less uncomfortable for you.”
He raised a brow, his blue eyes sparkling. “I’m not uncomfortable. Mindy,” he said, addressing the young thing across the table, “are you uncomfortable?”
Another snicker and then, “No, baby. I’m not uncomfortable at all.”
Baby? Right. He was a baby, but not the kind she meant. “Fine. Enjoy your lunch, and next time, why don’t you try buying her clothes I haven’t worn.” Camille zeroed in on the pink sweater and gray slacks that used to belong to her. “That’s poorly done, Carter. If you’re going to strut her around town, you’d better teach her about style, and tell her it’s bad taste to wear your soon-to-be-ex-wife’s old clothes.” It was Camille’s turn to snicker. “Enjoy your lunch.” As she walked away, there was no mistaking the other woman’s fury.
“You said you bought this special just for me. How could you? Why would you do that? You gave me her clothes?”
Camille slid into the booth, smiled at Nicki. “It looks like we won’t have to worry about a lunch intrusion again,” she murmured as her soon-to-be ex’s sex toy stomped out of the restaurant with Carter close behind.
“What did you say to them?” Nicki asked. “I saw her face and whatever it was, she was not happy.”
Camille dropped her napkin onto her lap, picked up her fork, and speared a piece of salmon. “Sometimes the truth is so ugly. I guess she just didn’t want to hear it.”
Chapter 17
The old man had fooled them all.
The quiet talks, the heartfelt comments, the sharing, all said the tyrant was gone, and in his place was a gentler, more considerate human being. A father. Tate had no idea what it would be like to have a real father, one who cared about him, but these past several weeks had given him hope that he might find out.
And it was all a lie.
Charlotte had been a mess when she’d called to tell him, tears snuffing out her words, making it almost impossible to understand. But he caught the important ones; your father said horrible things…you’re too good for me…I don’t belong…
Damn that man!
He’d fooled everyone, though early on the doctor said his father’s memory was fixated on a time or a state that may not have existed except in the old man’s mind. That much was obvious in the way Harrison referred to his family; my son, your wonderful mother…as though he’d ever acknowledged any of them. But as time passed and the man’s thoughtfulness spread to include the staff and later, Charlotte, Tate started to believe his father might have a chance at becoming a human being after all.
But somewhere along the way, the man had an awakening and a jolt back to the old Harrison Alexander—dictator, tyrant, monster. Well, he was not going to demean the woman Tate loved.
He found Harrison in his usual spot in the library, a stack of books on roses piled on the couch next to him. When Tate entered, the old man glanced up. “Hello, son. I see from your expression you’ve heard about my conversation with Charlotte Donovan.”
“How could you? What right did you have to speak to her that way?” Tate advanced toward his father, stared him down. “You’ll issue her an apology, and you’ll never speak to her that way again. In fact,” he bit out, “you’ll never speak to her again at all.”
Tsk-tsk. Harrison removed bits of lint from his sweater as though Tate’s comments had no bearing on his mood and certainly were of no consequence. “You know that’s not possible. I never apologize when I’m right.”
“You can’t control other people’s lives. Not anymore.” Too bad his mother hadn’t believed that. If she had, she might still be alive.
“Control?” Harrison raised a brow as though surprised by the word. “I merely observed and commented. I’m not to blame for the girl’s inferior breeding or lack of class.” He shook his head, sighed. “You were always too soft, too concerned with people’s feelings.” His voice turned sharp, cruel. “That will be your undoing.”
“So, it’s better not to care, to treat others as though they don’t matter? As though they aren’t worthy to breathe the same air as you?”
The look on the old man’s face said that was exactly what he meant, but he merely shrugged. “There are those who take and those who give. Takers rule the world, while givers allow themselves to be manipulated by words like hope and forgiveness. And love.”
“I’m leaving. The staff will see to your needs and if the doctors have questions, they can contact me.”
His father pounded the arm of the couch with a fist. “You live here.”
Tate eyed him, bit out, “Not anymore.” He hadn’t taken three steps before his father’s words stopped him.
“I’ll kick you out of the company if you leave. Then see what happens. I’ll call Fred and tell him you’re banned from the office. I swear I will if you walk out the door.”
Tate let out a long sigh, turned. He’d hoped to break the news to his father with Fred’s help, but the old man had backed him into an impossible spot. “I don’t think so,” he said in a quiet voice. “You see, you’re the one who isn’t coming back. The board voted you out four days ago and voted me in as CEO.”
“Like hell they did. They can’t do that. It’s my company.” He jabbed a finger against his chest, shouted, “Mine!”
“You may own the company, but you also have a board who can vote you out, and you don’t own the whole company anymore now, do you? That’s right. You had to divvy up chunks when they found out you’d been cheating and double-dealing.” Tate studied the man who didn’t deserve the title of father. “Maybe if you had been more of a giver than a taker all those years, you’d still own the company. But more important, maybe you’d still have a family.”
The old man’s response contained words like ungrateful, duty, and responsibility, but Tate ignored them as he left the room and made his way toward the winding staircase. Twenty minutes later, he closed his suitcase, kissed Astrid on the cheek, and drove to Charlotte’s.
It had been three days since he’d moved into Charlotte’s tiny bedroom, hung his suits in Rogan’s old closet, and begun sharing meals with Rose Donovan. It wasn’t his intention to camp out there or take advantage of Rose’s hospitality. He’d planned to rent from the Peace & Harmony Inn or maybe borrow a room in Camille’s empty house, but once he’d enjoyed the warmth and comfort of the Donovan household, he didn’t want to leave. This was what family felt like, and it didn’t matter that the bed wasn’t king size or the cuisine five-star. Rose accepted him and was genuinely interested in what he had to say.
And Charlotte? What could be better than lying next to her every night, skin to skin, sharing dreams in the dark?
Christmas would be here soon, but Tate already had his Christmas present, and it was the gift of Charlotte and her family. Camille seemed pleased to hear the news that he’d moved into the Donovan household, though she’d made a few snide comments about thin walls and lumpy beds. Oliver hadn’t said a word, but his blue eyes twinkled, and he’d dropped off a batch of double fudge brownies and a pot of stew yesterday.
Rogan Donovan was the one who cornered Tate after a dinner of pasta primavera, salad, and homemade bread. He’d stopped by with Elizabeth to ask his mother if she’d make an afghan for the baby, a request that made Rose tear up and hug them both. Of course, tears led to the need for food, and two minutes later, the expectant couple was staying for dinner. Elizabeth was not the problem. She and Tate had reached an understanding that involved respect and acceptance. It was Rogan who seemed to have a problem with Tate’s presence in his parents’ home and his sister’s bed.
“So, what’s going on here?” Rogan sipped his beer, eyed Tate like he expected him to spit out every detail of a ten-year plan involving Charlotte.
“Here, as in you and me drinking beer in your mother’s sunroom?”
The guy scowled. “No, here, as in why are your clothes in my old closet and why is my mother asking what you’d like for dinner tomorrow?” The scowl deepened. “Here, as in why are you acting like you moved in and why are you sleeping in my sister’s bed!”