by Robin Kaye
“Ben knows there’s nothing between me and him, too.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve worked with him for a year and a half now, and he’s never even hinted there was something more than a purely platonic friendship between us.”
“Did he know I was coming by for lunch?”
There, that got her thinking. Yeah, he sure as hell knew. Now she was getting mad… hopefully at Ben.
“You think he planned this? For you to show up and—”
“Think he was on top of you doing something other than… tickling you? Hell yeah, I do. That way I’d draw the wrong conclusion, I’d come off like a jealous asshole, we’d fight, and you’d dump me. Because, let’s face it, there’s nothing attractive about a jealous boyfriend, is there?”
“No. But there is something definitely attractive about a smart one. I’m not so sure you’re right about Ben’s motives. After all, he’s never looked at me twice—”
“I find that impossible to believe. Maybe you’re the one who never looked twice. Besides, when was the last time you were single?”
“Other than the last month or so, um…”
“Not since you met Ben. Right?” Annabelle crossed her arms under her breasts, which did amazing things for her already-spectacular cleavage.
“Right. So, all this…” She made a turning motion with her hand. “This was so that you’d catch us. This was just to make you jealous?”
“I’d bet my next weekend off on it.”
“You have a weekend off?”
Mike couldn’t hold back his smile. He sat beside Annabelle and pulled her onto his lap. “Yeah, I have Memorial Day weekend off.” He didn’t mention that he’d practically had to sell his soul… and his body to get a four-day weekend. “I thought maybe if you can get off too, we could spend some time together in the Hamptons.”
“The Hamptons? As in, where the rich and famous like to play and pay?”
“Yeah. Nick has a place on Westhampton Beach, and since Rosalie married him, she does too.”
“My sister owns a house in the Hamptons? She doesn’t even like the beach. Do you think she knows?”
Mike shrugged. “Does it matter? The less time they use it, the more time there will be for you and me. Nick said it’s ours if we want it. As long as we take Dave with us. Just think, you, me, the sun, and surf for four days. Can you get the time off?”
“I’ve had time off scheduled for almost a year. My plans changed, obviously, but I still have the time saved up. It shouldn’t be a problem. That’s one of the reasons why Ben’s in town.”
Mike found it interesting that he’d show up even after he knew Annabelle wasn’t taking her honeymoon, but decided to keep the thought to himself. “So we’re good then?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Yeah, we’re real good.”
Mike couldn’t disagree.
“He asked me to go away with him over Memorial Day weekend.” Annabelle ran her pencil across the blotter on her desk, picturing Mike when he was steaming mad at her. He was pretty cute when he was jealous. She moved the pencil, enjoying the sound of carbon against paper. It was relaxing somehow, even if it was just scribbling.
She heard Becca’s sigh. She knew that sigh, even when heard over the clanking of the Acela Express and the high-pitched hum of a passing train. The sigh was the beginning of one of Becca’s Little Miss Optimistic rants.
“Oh, this relationship is moving right along. Wow, a weekend together, that’s serious stuff.”
“No, it’s not. It’s uninterrupted sex, that’s all.”
“If it were just uninterrupted sex, why leave Brooklyn?”
Good point. She had no idea why they were leaving Brooklyn.
“He wants to do something nice and romantic. You really should expect more. I know Chip took you away for the weekend sometimes.”
“Yeah, but that was only when he had beach volleyball tournaments.”
“Oh, right. I’ll bet Mike is taking you somewhere to impress you, someplace romantic.”
“The Hamptons.”
“Wow, sometimes I amaze myself. I’m just too good. But why aren’t you happier about this?”
“I was when I thought it was uninterrupted sex. Now you’re attaching all sorts of meaning to it, and well, I’m not ready for—”
“A loving relationship?”
“Whoa! No one said anything about love.”
“No one has to. This is like a trial weekend. To see how you’d get along if you moved in together—”
“No, it’s not. It’s a long weekend, three nights and four days of sun, surf, and sex.”
“Oh honey, don’t you know how this works? An overnighter insinuates he’s ready to spend quality time but doesn’t want to commit. A weekend means he’s on the fence but likes you enough to contemplate a commitment. And a long weekend means he’s over the moon but thinks it’s too soon to ask you to move in with him, or he’s not sure if you feel the same. Though in this case, I bet it’s both.”
Annabelle tossed her pencil aside and stood to pace the floor of her new office. Back and forth from her desk to the window. Her boot made a weird sound as it thunked over the polished wood surface. “Where do you get this stuff? It’s all those stupid magazines you read, isn’t it?”
“Calm down, girl. You need some time to come to grips with this. I just hope he doesn’t spook you.”
“Mike is not the one spooking me. You are. Now, why don’t we stop talking about my… um—”
“Love life?”
“Sex life. Yeah, so how’s your sex life?”
“Yours is so much more interesting. My love life and sex life are nonexistent. I am, however, considering adopting.”
“A child?”
“No, I thought I’d start with a cat and work my way up from there.”
“Sounds like a plan. Maybe then you can meet a cute veterinarian.”
“One can only hope.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll see if Dr. Mike knows any vets. The doctor he dragged me to wasn’t your type.”
“Somehow that’s not a surprise, since I don’t think I have a type. We’re heading into Philadelphia, so I better get off the phone.”
“Okay, thanks for cleaning the apartment. I’m sorry I slept all afternoon.”
“Not that there was much to clean. Promise you’ll come visit me soon and bring Mike. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Okay, I promise. Love you Bec.”
“Take care, and I love you, too, sweetie. Bye.”
Annabelle hung up the phone and tried to imagine Becca meeting Mike. She’d have to show her a picture of him before she introduced them. She’d have to prepare Becca for the shock. Lord knows it would have been nice if someone had prepared her, but then who could have? No one she knew in New York knew Chip even existed. And damn if that didn’t make her feel guilty too. Thank you, Sister John Claire.
Becca turned onto the drive leading to the club. A mile-long driveway over rolling green hills led to a Tudor-style mansion turned country club. Bitsy got custody of the Cricket Club in the divorce, so Daddy had to find himself a new place to play.
She pulled up to the front entrance. A uniformed attendant stood ready to open her car door before she’d even shifted into neutral and raised the parking brake. She disengaged the door locks. The door swung open, and a strong hand helped her out of the low-slung car. Becca took the hand, and when the attendant’s eyes lit up, she wished he were looking at her rather than her car. Pity. He was obviously new to the job. Becca’s car was nice, but nothing compared to some that frequented the club. She took the receipt and put a tip in his breast pocket, patting it down just for kicks. That earned her a crooked smile as she walked toward the front door. It was a sad day when a girl had to tip a man to get more attention than her car. Maybe she should sell the damn thing and get a beater. Then she’d never be allowed on the club grounds. Hmm, not such a bad idea
at that.
She tossed her Dolce and Gabbana purse over her shoulder, pushed her Pucci sunglasses to the top of her head, and smoothed the Tracy Reese strapless dress over her hips. She dressed to impress by necessity. All she really wanted to do was go back home to her loft apartment in South Philly and hang out in her cutoff Levi’s and a T-shirt. Unfortunately, she didn’t want her comfort as badly as she wanted information. The only way to get the facts was to give her father what he wanted—a well-behaved, well-bred, well-dressed daughter.
Becca let her eyes adjust to the dark, formal foyer and began the search for her dad. She walked by the club room and checked the bar. He wasn’t there. Great. She took a deep breath, pasted on a smile, and pretended she was on stage, which wasn’t much of a stretch. She stopped at the formal dining room’s entrance, and before she could even scan it, the uniformed maître d’ bowed slightly. “Ms. Larsen, so nice to see you again.” He tucked a menu under his arm and raised his nose. “Please follow me. Your father is expecting you.”
Well, no kidding. He walked like a general overlooking his troops, leaving her to follow in his wake. The people she passed took notice and didn’t seem to find anything offensive about her attire. Score one for Becca. At least she wouldn’t be getting the old why-can’t-you-dress-to-your-station lecture or the why-must-you-always-embarrass-me lecture. Though, the times she’d received both, she’d thoroughly enjoyed doing whatever it was she did to deserve them. Ah, the life of a reluctant debutante.
Christopher Edmond Larsen stood and gave her a regal nod and a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling her chair out for her. She sat, and the maître d’ placed a napkin on her lap, then handed her an opened menu as a busboy rushed over to deliver a water glass.
She smiled her thanks and waited for her father to start the volley, which was the only way to gauge his mood, because Daddy was the king of cool.
“This was an unexpected surprise.”
He obviously wondered if she was there to ask for money. He should know better, since she was the twin who’d never stooped so low and couldn’t be bought— much to his consternation.
Becca took a sip of water and set it back on the table. “It’s been a while. How you’re doing?”
An eyebrow rose, and his lips quirked before he shut down the smile. Hmm… some real trust issues. Either that or a sure sign that a little paranoia goes a long way. He should know she was never in Mommy Dearest’s camp—or his for that matter. When it came to her parents, she was Switzerland. Not that it mattered now. The divorce had been final for a year and a half.
“I’m fine, same as usual. Between my practice and my position on the hospital board, I’ve been busy.”
“That’s nice.” Becca would have given her fortune for a dinner roll or a time-out to place an order. She looked over the menu and tried to figure out what would be kindest to her stomach. The tension roiled the little she’d eaten in the two days since she’d seen the photo.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about, Rebecca, or are we going to spend our meal with pleasantries?”
“It’s hardly pleasant, Daddy. You haven’t even asked how I am.”
“Fine. How are you?”
“I’m doing well. My work is getting noticed, which is a major improvement, and I think I may have discovered a long lost relative.”
“A relative?”
No need to waste time. He obviously wasn’t happy to see her. No surprise there. Maybe she could get the information she wanted and leave him to eat in peace. She placed the envelope containing the pictures of Dr. Mike Flynn on the table. He looked at her questioningly.
“These were taken a couple of weeks ago at a wedding my friend attended in New York.”
Her father looked to the heavens as if to ask for strength and pulled the photos out of the envelope. Becca watched as he scanned the picture of the two men and did a double take. When he flipped to the close-up, all the blood drained from his face. He reached for his water glass, took a gulp, and choked on it.
She rose from her seat, and the maître d’ made a beeline for the table. Her father wiped his now-sweaty face with his napkin and waved off the advance of the staff and Becca.
Her legs turned leaden as she made her way back to her chair and sat. “Who is this Michael Flynn to you?”
She had never seen such pain in a man’s eyes.
“Daddy?”
He moved forward and lowered his voice. “Did you say Flynn?”
“Yes, Dr. Michael Flynn. Who is he?”
“If my suspicions are correct, he’s your half brother.”
Well, she hadn’t seen that coming. A cousin, sure, a branch of the family tree her grandfather had sawed off and refused to allow anyone to acknowledge. But her father’s love child? Nope. Before this moment, she’d have said it was impossible. She didn’t think her father had the ability to love anyone but himself. The pain evident in her father’s eyes could only be caused by heartbreak and loss. It was her turn to gulp water. At least she didn’t choke on it. Her mind raced. A brother? A half brother?
Dr. Larsen lifted his hand, and a waiter ran to his aid. “A scotch, neat. Make it a double. Rebecca?”
She couldn’t take her eyes off her father. “Sure.” He stared at the photographs, and when he looked back at her, he seemed to have aged ten years.
“I guess I owe you an explanation.”
Becca had never seen her father look contrite before. Come to think of it, he never seemed to have any feelings. Even when he acted happy, it never seemed genuine. It sure looked genuine now.
He stared at the empty plate in front of him, as if he were watching the story of his life on the china. “You know the story. Your mom and I had known each other since we were children. Our families had always been close, and they planned for us to marry… someday.” He shook his head. “I was never serious about Bitsy. I just went along with it because it was easier to ignore it and hope it would all go away.”
“Dad—”
He held up a hand to quiet her. “I know I should have put my foot down and refused, but it always seemed so far in the future—it never felt real.
“When I was in New York doing my residency, I met a woman named Colleen Flynn. We dated. Bitsy dated other people too, as far as I knew. But Colleen and I got serious. We fell in love, but I had no idea she could have been pregnant. I never knew.”
Becca took a sip of water. Her father was capable of love?
He took a deep breath and wiped his face with his hand. “Colleen and I talked about getting married when I finished my residency. We were so happy together, and I was happy for the first time in my life. I went home for a few days at Easter and had planned to tell my parents and your mother about Colleen and end the sham of an engagement.”
Becca’s father straightened his silverware and finally met her eyes. “When I told Bitsy that I wanted out, that I was in love with Colleen and wanted to marry her, you can imagine your mother’s reaction. She went crazy. My family threatened to disown me. And two days later, both families went behind my back and put the announcement of my engagement to Bitsy in every society page between Philadelphia and Boston.”
He shook his head and winced. “When I saw the announcement, I ran back to New York to tell Colleen it was a mistake. By the time I’d gotten there, she was gone.”
He took another sip of his water, and his face was devoid of color. “Where the hell is that scotch?” He looked and didn’t see the waiter, so he seemed to steel himself and continued. “When I showed up at Colleen’s house, her family spit in my face.”
Becca reached for his hand before she could stop herself.
He gave her a weak smile. “They told me she’d gone back to Ireland.” His voice quivered. “They said she’d married the man they’d approved of—someone who wouldn’t cheat on her. They threatened to call the police if I ever darkened their doorstep again.”
He patted her hand and sat back, distancing himself like always. “I d
idn’t give up right away. I talked to every one of Colleen’s friends trying to find out where she’d gone. No one knew. My family refused to help. They cut off my trust to ensure I wouldn’t go off to Ireland to find her. I had no money of my own. As it was, I could barely pay the rent with my meager income.”
He took a deep breath and stared at Becca as if he were looking through her into the past. “I was hurt, and although I never loved your mother, I took the easy way out. I was so stupid. I did what everyone wanted me to do. I married Bitsy.
“Becca, your mother was never the woman I loved. Marrying her was unfair to both of us. After all these years, I don’t think I ever got over Colleen. And now, to find out she may very well have had our son—”
Becca dropped her head in her hands. Oh God, what have I done?
“I’ve got to find them. To explain. Christ. Colleen must hate me.”
Becca was glad she was sitting down as her head started to spin, thinking of the ramifications of her actions. Her father would offer Mike the world, and the only way Annabelle would stay with Mike is if he rejected everything that goes along with being a Larsen—the father, the money, the page in the Social Register. Everything that Chip was incapable of doing. Her father would find Mike and destroy Annabelle’s life again.
“I’d love to say I regret marrying your mother, but how can I? I got you and Chip out of the deal. I know I was never present in either of your lives—at least not in any way that counted. I’d like to change that now, with you, and with Mike. I’ve already lost one child. I don’t want to lose my other children, too. Not when I have a second chance. I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”
When the drinks were delivered, he drained half the glass, set it down, and watched Becca do the same.
How was she going to tell Annabelle? Becca didn’t think about it before, but she should have told Annabelle she’d taken the pictures and was going to talk to her father. Christ, now it looked like she’d gone and done this behind Annabelle’s back. She had, but not intentionally. Becca was so used to her what’s-yours-is-mine and what’s-mine-is-yours relationship with Annabelle, it never occurred to her to ask permission to take copies of the photos. Now that she had, and then compounded the offense by showing the photos to her father, she’d crossed the line.