She laughed. “You’re going to become addicting.”
“I’m hoping to.” He grinned, then remembered the flowers. “Looks like Chuck Sanders knew you’d cinch the deal.” He gestured to the bouquet on the counter.
Her excitement faded and her face grew sober. “No, I don’t think so. Levinson said he’d call Paul and Chuck later today.” She turned to the flowers and removed the card.
“This is from Jack Morrison. He’s sorry for deserting me on Saturday night.” She jiggled the card in her hand. “Isn’t it sweet?”
The mention of Jack Morrison’s name was like an unexpected punch to the gut. Using every ounce of energy to hide his disgust, he eyed the mixed flower bouquet she was unwrapping. Oh, yeah, real sweet.
****
Elise watched her father smile, eyes closed, as he relished the first bite of General Tso’s chicken. They were in the lounge, Anton’s casted foot propped up on a footstool, crutches lying beside his chair, Styrofoam container on his lap.
“Let’s hope Lizzie gets many, many more offers while I’m stuck here if you plan to bring real food each time we celebrate,” Anton said.
“If this is real food, we’ve been having a hell of a lot of it lately.” Lucas shot a sideways look at Elise.
Elise felt her face grow red, remembering the fried chicken dinner at the cottage finally consumed many hours later and in bed. “My creative energy stops just short of the kitchen, Lucas. I warned you the first day.” She hoped her father hadn’t noticed the secretive exchange.
He did.
“Neither of you look like you’re starving,” Anton said, “at least not for food.” He wrapped a string of lo mein noodles around his fork. “I talked to Twila the other day.” He hesitated, his gaze fastening on Lucas. “She says your father is lying. There’s no doubt in her mind he’s Mike’s father.”
Fork in midair, Elise stared at him. “Why would he lie?”
Anton shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“She’s absolutely sure?” Elise saw no point in disclosing J.B. had confiscated the glass Lucas’s father used at the bar and requested a DNA comparison with Mike Fisher. Unfortunately, it would take a few weeks before the results would be back from a lab in Atlanta and they would know for sure.
“She’s certain enough to bet on it.”
Anton glanced at Lucas. “She suspects your father may be struggling with guilt after all these years, Lucas, and was trying to hurt you in any way possible. Or it may be his idea of escaping it. Your mother never started drinking until your father packed up and left. Twila said she would have never turned to another man. She loved him beyond everything else.”
“Even Mike and me,” Lucas muttered bitterly.
Anton Springer nodded painfully. “I’m afraid so, but don’t blame yourself, Lucas. There was nothing either of you could have done to make it right. Sometimes there is only one real love in your life. Any other relationships are strictly sexual or for companionship.”
Elise took a steadying breath. She could see the wounded look in Lucas’s eyes, the pain on her father’s face. One had lost a mother he loved but never knew and the other had lost the wife he knew and loved.
Her father continued in a serious, subdued voice. “When you find a relationship so pure and genuine, you’d be a fool to let it go, no matter what the obstacles. Life’s like a good poker hand. When those aces come along you hold onto them.”
He stared at both of them and finally went back to his meal as silence descended like a soothing balm on the aches they were all feeling. It wasn’t until the meal was almost finished when Elise spoke. “Did Mrs. Pedmo say anything about Mary Jo Meyer?”
“Besides she’s married to a pompous piece of garbage?”
“Dad!”
“It’s the truth, honey. The man is a control freak.”
“So why doesn’t she leave?”
“Come on, Lizzie, you know the answer.” He eased himself back into his chair. “Three kids, no degree, and a husband who’s a cop. Just where could she run to where she couldn’t be found? Her mother offered to help her finish her early childhood education degree, but she had the distinct feeling it was vetoed by Ted, not Mary Jo.”
“She’s afraid of him,” Elise whispered. She rose and walked to the window.
“The entire Meyer family always had a mean streak in them.” Lucas stood and moved closer to her. She could smell the scent of his lime aftershave. His nearness made her heart beat faster. “And what do they become? Police officers. Just what we need—angry people to uphold our laws.” Lucas shook his head wearily.
Anton Springer squinted over at his daughter. “You know, Lizzie, if you want to know a man, find out what makes him mad. Maybe Ted Meyer would be a good specimen to start with since he always seems aggravated.”
****
The rest of the afternoon went by in a whirlwind for Elise. With her emotions vacillating so abruptly, she felt like a human yo-yo. She was delighted when she found the perfect navy blue suit in a little shop in downtown Scranton, but disappointed when she thought about leaving Lucas to go back to San Francisco and handle Levinson’s designs. She was elated when she stopped by Fritz’s office to tell him of her latest success and then frightened when she revealed to him Mike Fisher might truly have been murdered. She grew mellow and depressed each time she thought of leaving Todd.
Her emotions warring, her stomach churning, she finally arrived at the farm, only to find her answering machine held an even greater surprise.
Paul Winston had called and fired her.
Chapter Nineteen
Thursdays were slow days in town, but obviously not at the Springer farm, Elise decided when she pulled her Corvette in the driveway leading to the farmhouse. She stared curiously at the sight before her. The place looked like a parking lot for an outdoor rock concert. Along with Lucas’s Suburban and restored Trans Am, her dad’s pick-up, Fritz’s jeep, and Cindy’s beat-up Ford, three cars she didn’t recognize and a black stretch limo were jammed into the driveway and spilling onto the lawn.
Bewildered, she grabbed the dry-cleaned clothes on the passenger’s seat and hurried up the steps. Fritz greeted her on the porch, his hands jammed in his pockets, change jingling against his nervous fingers. Bess, lying behind a porch chair, jumped up to greet her, tail wagging with glee.
“What’s going on?” She draped the plastic-encased garments over the top rail and bent to give Bess an affectionate pat on her head. “I leave for fifteen minutes to get aspirin and stop at the drycleaners and the place turns into a car lot.”
“The invasion of the lunatics,” Fritz said and followed it with a sour scowl. “I’d kill for a double scotch on ice. All I wanted to do was take Cindy out to Nay Aug Park for a quiet walk.”
“That bad?” Elise smiled. “Who’s watching Todd?”
“Right now he’s upstairs trying to find his Atlanta Braves baseball cap. He’s begging me to take him for some ice cream.” Still scowling, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Before you go in there, I guess I’d better fill you in on all the whack jobs.”
“Whack jobs?” Her eyes traveled past his shoulders to the screen door where a chorus of voices was raised in angry pandemonium.
“Chuck Sanders is in the kitchen and is hoping he can beg you to come back to work. Monique is in the living room and is trying to beg Lucas to come back to her. Paul Winston is camped out on the steps in the hallway, looking like he just stepped out of an episode of the television show Mom always liked. You know, the one where you enter another dimension?”
“The Twilight Zone?”
“That’s it. Oh, and Mort Levinson is upstairs using your bathroom.”
She blinked, unsure she comprehended the monologue. “Mort Levinson? The Mort Levinson from San Francisco is upstairs in my bathroom?”
He nodded. “Yep, I figured it was better he used your bathroom upstairs than parade him past the display of tempers in the living room.”
&nbs
p; She looked down in horror at her cut-off jeans and tank top. Why, oh why, didn’t she take time to properly dress this morning? She looked like Daisy Duke in running shoes. She frantically tried to smooth down tendrils of hair escaping from a sloppy ponytail she had tied up into a knot at the back of her head.
“Fritz, my bathroom is not fit for human use. I was in a hurry this morning and left it a total disaster.” She envisioned a rotund Levinson stepping over her lingerie, dodging wet towels, and fighting a counter full of cosmetics to wash his hands at the sink.
“What does it have to do with the old boy using the can?”
“Nothing, nothing at all.” She sighed. “If it’s too late to fix it, it’s too late to worry about it. How do I look?” She pulled at the hem of her shorts to no avail and straightened the spaghetti straps on the tank top.
“Like you’re ready to compete in a mud wrestling contest?”
Positioned between them, Bess gave out a mournful whine as her sad brown eyes rolled toward the excitement inside the house. Fritz bent and scratched her behind her ears. “Too crowded in there for you, too, old girl?” He glanced hopefully toward the front door, but no one appeared. “Oh, by the way, Levinson wants to go for ice cream with Todd, Cindy, and me, but he wants to talk to you first.”
“He wants to go for ice cream? What idiot invited him?”
“I did,” Fritz said. “Well, actually, my little 42-inch sidekick invited him. It did get a little confusing, Liz, with all three circus rings in motion at one time.”
“Fritz, have you lost your mind?”
“No, no, my dear, he certainly has not.” Mort Levinson stepped out onto the porch. His paunchy figure was stuffed into a pair of casual tan slacks and a dark green golf shirt. Expensive brown Docksiders finished off his attire. He smiled. “Although I can’t vouch for the others in there. Charming house you have here, Elise. It’s wonderfully cozy and efficiently planned. I like your spacious farmhouse kitchen. You designed it?”
“Th-thank you. Yes, I did, when I was still in college.” Elise was unsure what to say next. “Mr. Levinson, I’m—”
“Shocked, I imagine?” He grinned widely. “I really didn’t mean to intrude, my dear, but my wife insisted we go shopping at the mall and then take a ride in the country so I thought I’d just stop by while she shopped and double check to be sure everything is still on for the meeting.”
“I’m not sure.” She hesitated. “You haven’t heard? I’ve been fired.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t. I spoke briefly with Chuck Sanders, and he assures me Paul Winston is just suffering from a bout of insanity. The meeting is still on, but we’ve moved it to Scranton. I’m looking forward to your ideas and thoughts.”
A bout of insanity? Elise had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Winston had suffered several bouts since she’d signed on with the firm seven years ago.
The screen door slammed behind them, and Todd came racing out onto the porch, interrupting with a shout, “Eee-lise, Eee-lise, Mr. Levinson is going to take me for a ride in his car! Look, have you seen it? It’s as big as two cars glued together. We’re going for ice cream!” Barreling into her legs and throwing his arms around her, he almost knocked her back down the steps in his excitement. “Can I go? Pleeeeease? I can’t ask Uncle Lucas because Fritz says he’s busy getting yelled at.”
From behind them, the sound of a heated female voice drifted out the open living room window.
Elise looked up nervously, her arms still encircling Todd as she refocused her gaze on Mort Levinson. “You sure want to do this, Mr. Levinson? You don’t have to feel obligated.”
“Elise, I love kids. This is such a glorious change of pace from being in a stuffy city, surrounded by dolts who are convinced they know more about investments than a dozen Wall Street bankers.” He ruffled Todd on the head. “And from the looks of things inside, an ice cream parlor is by far the more civilized place to be at the moment.”
Cindy stepped through the door, a small gold purse slung over her shoulder. “Are we ready? I’ve never ridden in a stretch limo. This is so cool!”
“If it’s all right with you,” Mort Levinson said to Elise, “your brother is going to take his car so he and Cindy can go up to Nay Aug Park afterwards. I’ll drop Todd off at the house before I pick up my wife, with your permission, of course.”
Her head still spinning, Elise released her grip on Todd and nodded. “Sure, that’s fine.”
Levinson started down the steps, then turned. It was obvious he had not missed her shorts and top. His eyes wandered over her, then drifted to her legs. An impish smile turned the corner of his lips upward. “You really should convince Winston and Sanders to have office dress-down days, my dear. I’d be inclined to make all my appointments on only those days.”
Elise laughed and felt her cheeks grow hot. “I can assure you it won’t be high on our punch list at the moment.”
“No, I suppose not.” He grinned.
Another series of harsh words poured out in a hot stream onto the porch.
“What a perfect beginning to a beautiful morning,” Elise muttered more to herself than to those around her and looked through the screen.
“Ah, kiddo, this is where survival instincts kick in and sane men depart,” Fritz said. “We’re out of here.”
“You’d better hurry in there before the lid flies off,” Levinson urged, and with a quick wave of his hand, proceeded down the sidewalk. “They are sorely in need of your charm. Come, Todd.” He gestured to the sparkling limo. “Let me give you your first lesson in drinking orange juice from a mobile bar.” He turned to Fritz, still lingering on the porch. “Cindy, Todd, and I will meet you at the ice cream parlor.”
Fritz nodded, but waited beside Elise for a moment.
“Nice guy,” Fritz watched them pile into the limo. “Sure wish Dad could meet him. They’d like each other.” He started for the steps as more shouting floated out.
“Wait!” Elise grabbed him by the sleeve, spinning him around to face her before he could slip from her grip. “What am I supposed to do?” She held fast.
He laughed. “I have no idea. Dysfunctional people are out of my league. Besides therapy, I’d suggest duct tape.”
“This is a nightmare.” She peered at her brother with a pleading look.
Grinning, he held up his hands, palms out. “If it looks like there might be any bloodshed, hide the sharp objects and see if they have life insurance. The last part is the important part.” Elise watched him as he fled to his car, whistling a tune sounding like “Another One Bites the Dust.”
With her stomach flopping like a fish out of water, Elise turned toward the door. Paul Winston, obviously distraught, jumped up from where he was seated on the bottom step of the staircase as soon as the screen door slammed shut behind her. His face was as pale as the light tan Armani suit he wore. His usually impeccably styled hair was plastered to the side of his head as if he had been holding it in his hands.
“Elise.”
“Paul.” She fell silent and studied him.
“Elise.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Elise, this is a huge mess. An unfortunate misunderstanding.” His voice rose in a pleading tone. “You’ve got to help me. Levinson hates me. Chuck hates me—”
“And quite frankly, Paul, at the moment, I’m not too terribly fond of you myself.”
He winced. “Elise, please.”
She drew in a breath, torn by indecision. Never had she seen him so upset. On the other hand, she decided, his miserable condition triggered a small sense of satisfaction. She remembered how often over the years she had patched the broken spirits of clients he purposely and verbally injured, either to drive home a key point or to get his own way. She decided to let him squirm.
“Why don’t you have a seat out on the porch where it’s more comfortable and quiet?” Unless she missed her guess, he was wearing dog hair and mud on the seat of his five-hundred-dollar silk suit. The steps had
not been vacuumed for a few days. “I’d really like to talk with Chuck first.”
“Sure, sure,” he agreed.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Water. Water would be fine when you get a chance.” He cleared his throat. “Elise, you’re upset, aren’t you?”
For the first time she heard genuine concern and maybe even a tinge of remorse. “Paul, I can be anything I want to be. I’m not your employee any longer. You fired me, remember?” She turned before he could respond and entered the kitchen.
Chuck Sanders rose from his seat by the kitchen table where a briefcase and a stack of papers fought for room with a half-filled glass of apple juice and an opened bag of Oreo cookies.
“I helped myself to your refrigerator, Elise. Your brother had his hands full sorting out the arriving guests.” He paused as if he wanted to say more, but he seemed unsure of the type of welcome he’d receive.
“You’ve never been a guest, Chuck. My mentor, my instructor, my best friend, but never a guest. Certainly not here in my home.” She moved toward him, and he enveloped her in a giant hug.
“Gawd, Elise, I’ve missed you.”
From the living room, a string of expletives filtered in to them.
He released her and looked warily toward the noise. “Did Levinson leave yet? This place is a pit of insanity.”
“So Fritz informed me. Luckily Levinson is on a quest to get some Chunky Monkey ice cream.”
“Elise, you have to help us.”
“I’ve been fired, remember?”
Chuck Sanders sighed. “It was a mistake. A huge misunderstanding. It was never my idea, never my intent.”
She went to the refrigerator and removed a bottle of water. “I told Paul I’d get him a drink. He’s out on the porch and looks like he’s about to pass out. Once he discovers the dog hair on his britches he’ll need CPR.”
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