Another voice came into the mix, deeper, very familiar. “Did someone call my name?”
The heads disappeared as the boss entered the fracas.
“Just a family discussion,” said Helen affably. Silence followed for a minute or two, and then Lana’s voice hissed like a snake. “Be very careful my dear Aunt Helen or I will expose you.”
“Go ahead,” she answered disdainfully. “And I’ll tell everybody how many cats you have. Then they’ll know how batshit crazy you really are.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh really? Try me.”
Cara Galloway hurried over to Alexa, her brown doe eyes wide with amazement. “Can you believe this klusterfuk?”
“I wonder what Lana meant about exposing Mrs. Parry.”
Cara hunched her shoulders. “Beats me. Uh-oh, here she comes.” She crouched down and scooted back to her work space. Alexa stuffed Mrs. Parry’s folder into her messenger bag, minus the missing page.
After dinner the girls laid out their school clothes and backpacks as Alexa surfed the net. Using the investigative skills she’d developed as a reporter for the Westchester Observer before relocating to Florida, she dug through various search engines and finally got a hit. The Parkland property was registered to a charitable organization run by Elena Perryman. Digging deeper, she found Elena’s former husband, Stefan Perryman, had run one of the largest Ponzi schemes in the State of Florida, bilking billions from wealthy investors, well-established industries, start-ups, and even charities. He and Elena lived a lavish lifestyle with palatial homes in the south of France, Northern Italy, Morocco, and a remote Caribbean island.
As she pored over the documents, she understood that Stefan was behind bars and Helen Parry, the former Elena Perryman, had been allowed to live in a home now owned by the federal government under a compromise plan worked out by her team of high-priced lawyers. All other assets had been seized to pay investors a pittance of what they’d lost with Stefan’s dirty dealing. Their only son, Carl Perryman, now lived a quiet life in New Zealand as Cary Mandel.
So Helen Parry, for all her exquisite trappings, was keeping a low profile, wearing clothes from the halcyon days when she was once the undisputed fashion icon of Broward County, and earning a paycheck like everybody else in the office. No wonder she didn’t offer reimbursement. The Bentley was probably a prop. And now Alexa knew her dirty little secret. Everybody has one.
Tuesday morning finally dawned. Hallelujah. Gretel’s paperwork was tucked in her leather messenger bag, along with a copy of her visa and passport. She approached the figure cocooned under the covers on the couch. “Good morning Gretel, time to get up. School starts today.”
“Fartlek.”
“Excuse me, what?”
“Jeg har sovet.”
“Okay, I don’t speak Danish. But you need to get up.”
“Endnu ikke.”
“It’s not a good way to start your first day.”
“I’m naked you know.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“You’re not my mother.”
And thank goodness for that.
“I’ll make a sardine pumpernickel sandwich for lunch, okay?”
Gretel grunted as Hannah emerged from her room in faded skinny jeans and a gray sweatshirt, her hair pulled neatly into a pony tail. “I have your cell phone Gretel and I’m dumping it in the toilet if you don’t get up right now.” She dangled the phone in her fingertips. “You have one minute to get your ass in gear.”
Gretel leaped up. “Tør du ikke!”
“OMG, you pickled herring, get some clothes on!”
With the paperwork taken care of and Gretel in her first period class, Alexa arrived at work still shaking. Sitting in her car, calming her nerves, she recalled a plaque that once graced the wall of their home in Tarrytown.
The mind is a garden.
Keep it beautiful with divine thoughts.
Cultivate it with peace and love.
She chanted “ommm, ommmm” as she shut off the car and walked into work, eagerly anticipating the next installment of the ongoing soap opera, As the Page Turns.
CHAPTER 34
ROB PORTERFIELD had suggested dinner at the El Rincon restaurant. “It’s a little touristy,” he warned. “But the authentic cuisine is excellent.”
Sari tried on multiple outfits: a black jersey tie-dye dress that showcased her smooth shoulders. She preferred jeans, but tonight called for an ounce of glitz. She held up a burgundy long-sleeved dress she’d worn for a friend’s party and tossed it on the floor. An hour later, with most of her clothes in a Hefty sack destined for the thrift shop, she slipped into black gabardine slacks and a canary yellow cable-stitched sweater. She added a chunky turquoise necklace with matching earrings, recently purchased at the gift shop beneath Sean’s office.
Trying to contain her excitement, she wondered if she should have a glass of wine to calm her trembling hands. Instead, she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she darkened her light brows, applied blush, bronzer, mascara, and pink lipstick, feeling nervous as a prom queen. It seemed ironic since she hadn’t attended her prom. In fact, right after graduation her life was detoured down a narrow, rocky road that might or might not have something to do with Mr. Porterfield.
The Jeep’s headlights cut through the inky blackness heading to the Tlaquepaque Plaza as she sat forward, vigilant for snakes and other wildlife that kept warm on the macadam at night. Rob had secrets, plenty of them, but would the dots of her past connect to him? She knew virtually nothing about him. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted meaningless sex or a meaningful relationship. Her friends urged her to get back into the dating scene, pressuring her to create accounts on Tumblr, Silver Singles and OKCupid, telling her “love is only a swipe away.”
Instead, Rob Porterfield had manifested. As she pulled into the parking lot, a hot flash bubbled up like a sizzling cauldron spreading up to her cheeks and down between her breasts. Pushing the AC to high, she blew an arctic stream of cold air until the moment passed.
“Don’t get in too deep too fast,” she cautioned herself.
A gibbous moon hung like a glowing balloon over red rocks that appeared grayish purple under the dark star-studded sky. She heard someone call her name. In a dark blazer and jeans, Rob blended into the shadows as she hurried up the steps.
He’d shaved, but the moustache remained. Sari noticed one ear was pierced with a turquoise stud as the aroma of maleness wafted toward her. Instead of trying to kiss her, he gently placed his right hand in the small of her back and escorted her inside. A hostess in a simple black dress and exquisite Zuni squash blossom necklace showed them to a corner table lit with a small candle in a terracotta holder.
In the soft glow, Rob was better-looking than she remembered. Desire gurgled as the server placed menus and filled their glasses with water. Her body felt hot and cold. She was alternately clear-headed and perplexed. Churning emotions set off a nervous tic on her left eyelid. He ordered a bottle of wine before selecting Tiger Shrimp with Chipotle Cream Sauce and Blue Corn Crusted Relleno, telling the server they would share the entrees.
“You have a very unusual name.”
“I used to hate it, but I’ve grown into it.”
“It suits you. Unique. Artsy.” She flushed as she sipped the wine.
“What about you?”
Placing his glass on the table, he wiped his sensual lips with the cloth napkin and leaned forward toward her. “What about me?”
He had cleverly flipped the question and she cocked her head to the side.
“I mean, who are you?”
He smiled disarmingly. “Just a lowly woodcarver.”
“Just?”
“Yes, a humble man on the road of self-discovery.”
“And before that?”
“You mean the personal stuff?”
She nodded.
“I’m divorced with twin girls. They’re grown with kids of their own.”
“To grandmas and grandpas.” She raised a glass.
“Both young at heart—and might I add you look hot tonight.”
A tray of tapas arrived and they both fell silent as they ate.
“There were a lot of secrets in Bellingham.”
“Why do you think I’m from Bellingham?”
“Aren’t you?”
He leaned back and picked up his wine glass.
“Actually, I am. Lucky guess.”
“I was born and raised there.”
“I assume you’ve heard the rumors.”
She nodded. “Truth or dare?”
An indefinable tension replaced the casual banter. His eyes were guarded now. The smile fell away. “I’m not sure what you want me to tell you.”
“You said I could ask you anything.”
“I thought you meant my shoe size or my favorite color.”
“I want to know about the mysterious stranger who seems to be everywhere I turn.”
“I’m filled with deep, dark secrets.” Without doubt he had many. At some point she wanted to connect the dots, but right now that was unimportant.
“I bet you could write a book.”
“I was a hellion, smoking weed, guzzling booze, driving while drunk as shit. It’s a wonder I didn’t die in a ditch. I’m one lucky bastard.”
“Lucky is good.”
“Everybody knew my reputation. They’d say, ‘There goes Rob, he likes to dip his toe into the lady pond.’ It was all true.”
“But you got married,” she prompted.
“A shotgun affair. I dressed in black, got drunk at the reception, and threw up on the dance floor. The twins were born. I left when they turned two. I’m ashamed of the man I was. I’d like to think I’m not that man now.”
Dinner arrived, enveloping them in the aroma of onions, green chilies, cheese and spices. “Dig in,” he said, as they polished off the bottle of wine. As they ate, she searched through her memory bank for any tidbit of news she could recall about him. Their eyes locked and she saw they were hazel brown, not coal black. They held her spellbound.
“Is that why you moved here?”
“No. Not even close. I got lost in Mexico for a while and then traveled to Tierra del Fuego—about as far south as you can get. I hung out with the penguins for a year or two, lost myself in tequila, and finally met a man who taught me how to carve. That old guy saved my life. We worked together at the marketplace until he died. At that point I was at a crossroad. I could stay and create a life as an ex-pat or I could return to America and face my past—and my demons.”
“So you came back.”
“I hitched to Mexico and caught a bus heading to Phoenix. Thought I’d stay a while, figure things out before facing the ex and introducing myself to my twins, if she let me. At a small bar on the outskirts of town, I met an old Hopi shaman who set me on the path here.”
The questions that spun through her mind no longer seemed important. Why bombard him?
The universe would provide the answers.
She only wanted to enjoy the moment.
CHAPTER 35
SARI AND Rob strolled around the plaza hand-in-hand as stores began closing. In the dome above them, pinpoints of light dotted the cavernous cobalt sky. On earth, tiny white holiday lights twinkled gaily.
He leaned over her, his deep vibrato tickling her cheek. “Good food and a wonderful night with a beautiful woman, what more could I ask?”
She nodded in agreement. “It’s been special.”
“We can make it even better.”
“It’s pretty perfect.”
“Let’s find a cozy corner.”
She laughed nervously. “Here?”
“Why not? It’s almost empty.”
“Cameras are everywhere.”
“That makes it even more exciting.” He ran his thumb across her lips. Having sex in a public place wasn’t her thing. By nature she wasn’t a risk-taker, but bad boys can be extremely persuasive. She wanted to keep all options open. Then his lips were on hers, pressing hard with increasing urgency. His coarse hand swept down her back, pulling her closer and snaked under her sweater, into her bra. He tweaked her nipples as her body tingled. Her head tilted back as his tongue slid past her teeth. He moaned, or did she?
In a hoarse whisper he said, “Touch me.”
Were they being recorded? More important, did she want to do this? Suzie Mason’s words tumbled into her brain: “With some men you think you know where you are, but you’re somewhere else instead.”
“Com’on, I’m exploding.” He pulled his hand from under her bra and pressed his body into her, ramming her back against a lamp pole. She stiffened, surprised by his sudden move.
“I need you right now, I can’t wait!” He tugged her toward the parking lot. “My truck is over there.”
“Not the truck.”
“Yes, hurry!”
A few passersby smiled. A fat man gave a thumb-up sign and the night watchman grinned knowingly. Between the parked cars, Rob rammed his crotch into her as she pressed the fob, opening the Jeep. He yanked the back door open, holding it for her. “No,” she said shaking her head. “This isn’t right.”
“I need it. You need it too.”
His intensity frightened her. “This isn’t my style.”
His voice took on a harsh edge. “Do they have a ‘style’ where you come from?” He made quotes with his fingers. She was chilled by the sarcasm in his voice.
“I’ve made a mistake.”
His face was grave, eyes cold, angry lips pressed tight. “A few minutes ago you couldn’t wait for me to stick my big cock in you, and now I’m a mistake? Give me a fucking break.”
Her heart nearly stopped beating as her stomach bottomed out. She tensed for his next move. Then, as though yanked back by an invisible rope, he stopped abruptly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s no excuse for that. I would never force you.” He squeezed her shoulder, kissed the top of her head, and strode away before she could say a word.
What could she say, what would she?
Unnerved, she slid behind the wheel, and locked the door, watching as his truck fishtailed off the gravel onto the macadam, disappearing around a bend in the road. He was driving too fast. She heaved a sigh and slowly backed out, heading in the opposite direction, knuckles white as her hands gripped the wheel hard.
You think you know where you’re going. Suzie’s words rang in her ears. Yes, she thought maybe they were going to tumble into bed and they might have. But he frightened her and washed away any desire. Now he was gone and, to be honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again. Some of her friends fell into bed after a few drinks. She didn’t judge. Everyone had needs. Hers had never been urgent. If she had to describe herself, it would be cautious, guarded. Her emotional walls were up. Rob Porterfield could batter them down and take what he wanted, or be patient until she let them down on her own terms. Tonight might have been a deal-breaker.
At home, she pulled out her cell and checked to see if he’d reached out. He hadn’t. He’d apologized in the parking lot. There was no need to kneel like a supplicant to the Virgin Mary.
But she was surprised to see a new text from Alexa with a few photos from Florida showing a skinny pale girl with the caption: Our uninvited guest from Denmark. And another of Hannah and Alexa. They were so obviously mother and daughter with their auburn locks and delicate, freckled noses. Neither bore a resemblance to her. Alexa was petite and Sari was a Viking princess. Her heritage was, in fact, Norwegian. Nobody ever commented on their disparate looks. They simply assumed Alexa was her daughter.
But that wasn’t exactly true.
CHAPTER 36
THE PLACE between Rob’s legs throbbed like a devil’s toothache. The haze of fog low to the ground made it difficult to see, but he didn’t slow down. He was irritated. Not with Sari, she had every right to say no. He should have respected that. Instead, he’d let his primal u
rges turn him into a feral animal. He was better than that. Who was the man in the plaza so hungry for sex that he was willing to take it without permission? He didn’t know. Rob pounded the steering wheel with his fist as he rounded a blind curve. Two startled eyes reflected in the headlights. Slamming on the brakes, the cargo bed of his pickup slid sideways off the blacktop, coming to rest against a sapling. He left the motor running while he grabbed a flashlight and stepped out to assess the damage, relieved to find it was only a few scratches that could be easily buffed out. The fox had disappeared into the underbrush. But a copperhead coiled on the road to soak up the warmth had become the unwitting victim of his rage. Rob nudged the lifeless, rope-like body into the brush with his boot. He climbed back into the cab, driving cautiously, thinking about the wisdom of the fox, his animal totem.
His shaman had explained: “It comes to you when you are about to undergo a period of change, especially one that is tough and unpredictable.” That made sense, considering the events of the evening. “The spirit animal guides your wisdom and intuition; it teaches you to be resourceful and flexible, if you want to emerge victorious.”
Rob Porterfield’s reputation as a seducer was legendary. Still, he often wondered why some women surrendered their bodies so quickly—often to a complete stranger. Perhaps it was a primal need to be held, even for a few precious minutes. After each brief and meaningless encounter, he felt empty. Back in high school he had no misgivings about the way he behaved, considering every conquest a game. He always emerged victorious. Not only did he get what he wanted, he had bragging rights as well. Until tonight he thought he’d outgrown that ugliness.
Rob couldn’t deny he’d behaved recklessly earlier with Sari. And while he regretted his actions, nothing could change it. If he needed sexual gratification, he could have a woman’s panties down around her ankles in twenty minutes or less for the price of a drink. But the mood had passed, replaced with remorse for acting so inappropriately. Now, more circumspect, he admitted he’d been a selfish prick. Hopefully, a future with Sari still remained a possibility.
Keeping a watchful eye for night creatures, he drove home and stripped, showered until the hot water ran cold, still feeling Sari’s soft curves under his hand and the taste of her mouth. Generally speaking, he didn’t care for petite, slender girls. Like porcelain dolls, they were small and breakable. But Sari Conklin was substantial, strong, and yet emotionally vulnerable. Again, he berated himself for being so pushy and self-absorbed. He felt there was something from their past that had brought them together, a cosmic confluence perhaps.
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