He’d already budgeted Lily’s money, damn it. He didn’t want to have to return it.
But her donation hadn’t bought her the right to make him crazy.
He stalked into the bathroom, rinsed his face with cold water and stared one more time at his reflection in the medicine-cabinet mirror. Yeah, he was crazy. His eyes blazed like a lunatic’s. His lips were twisted in a grimace. His breath came short and shallow, pumping his chest like a broken bellows.
He wanted Lily. His half-sister. He could scarcely live with the understanding of who he was, what wanting her made him.
But he wanted her.
“HI, MOM, IS DAD HOME?” Lily asked.
Her mother laughed into the phone. “Lily, it’s Saturday morning. Do you honestly think he’d be home?”
Lily smiled and sipped her coffee. “He’s golfing, right?”
“Things don’t change much around here,” her mother reminded her, amusement shimmering in her voice. “Of course he’s golfing. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Actually, I think I ought to talk to him. I want to discuss an investment I’m thinking about.” Lily hated lying to her mother, but investments were a sure way to keep her mother from questioning her. Eleanor Bennett had absolutely no interest in or knowledge about investments. Financial planning was an area she ceded to her husband, along with schooling, career goals, home ownership and insurance, ambition and politics.
Lily didn’t really want to discuss investments with her father, either. The only new investment she’d made recently had been in Aaron Mazerik’s summer program, and that wasn’t an investment she cared to consult her father about.
What she wanted to discuss with him was her mother’s impending sixtieth birthday. It was still months away, but sixty was a big number, and if facing that landmark had to include anti-aging facial creams, it ought to include something celebratory, as well—a big party, a diamond solitaire, a cruise. It wasn’t too soon to start considering the options.
She chatted with her mother for a few more minutes, long enough to drain her oversize mug of coffee, then hung up and stared out the back window. Morning sun slanted into the backyard, casting a soft amber light over the east-facing wall of her detached garage and nudging awake the roses that grew there. Even though it was late June, dewdrops beaded the grass.
The house was too big, but she loved it. She couldn’t imagine herself living in some old rehab-ed shack like Aaron’s—except that his shack sat right by the river. She would rather have the river outside her back door than a porch overlooking a tidy lawn and a few rosebushes.
But then, she couldn’t imagine Aaron Mazerik living in a house like hers, either. He’d probably consider it too Riverbend, too firmly planted in the heart of town. Although he was working at the high school and running a town program, Aaron didn’t strike her as someone who wanted to live in such an established neighborhood, in a house whose foundation was sturdy, not just structurally but symbolically.
Lily had two reasons she wanted to confer with her father on her mother’s upcoming birthday. The obvious one was that she loved her mother and wanted the birthday to be joyous. The other reason was that she wanted to focus on something other than Aaron. And here she was again, focusing on him.
She rinsed her mug, set it on the drying rack and grabbed her keys. Maybe when she was finished talking to her father about making plans for Eleanor’s birthday, she could talk to him about what to do with her BMW. He loved talking while he golfed. When she was younger, she used to accompany him, not because she liked the sport but because while they golfed they would engage in great arguments about the president’s latest foreign-policy initiative or whether Mr. O’Toole made trigonometry more difficult than it had to be, as Lily claimed. Hitting the little white ball was secondary to sharing their thoughts and ideas.
Leaving the house seemed easier to her today than just a week ago. She still felt racked with guilt about what had happened in her marriage, but she was tired of shutting herself up inside with nothing but her stormy memories for company. She would feel guilty whether or not she insulated herself from the world. And either way, her mother was going to turn sixty. Life went on and Lily was going to have to go on, too.
She crossed to the garage and slid open the door. As she backed the car down the driveway, she thought about how Tyler had never liked convertibles; in the summer he’d preferred air conditioning to Mother Nature’s offerings. But Lily loved having the sky open to her, with only the shade of passing trees and the wind in her hair to keep her cool.
The golf course was located on the outskirts of town, surrounded by corn and soy fields and small copses of trees. At one time the golf club had been the exclusive domain of the town fathers; Abraham Steele and members of the town’s elite golfed while their wives planned elaborate dances and parties in the clubhouse. But democracy had arrived in Riverbend long ago, and now the club was open to everyone. This didn’t diminish Dr. Bennett’s joy in it. He loved running into a cross-section of Riverbend on the links, catching up on local news between holes and in the clubhouse after his game.
Before she went off in search of him, she cruised the parking lot, looking for his car. The large black Mercury with the MD license plate wasn’t in the lot. She cruised it a second time, just to make sure she hadn’t missed his car, then parked in front of the clubhouse and strolled inside. Perhaps her father had made a golfing date with a friend and they’d come in the friend’s car…But he rarely did that; because he was a doctor, he liked to have his car with him, in case an emergency cropped up and he had to race to a patient’s aid.
“Nope, haven’t seen Dr. Bennett,” the young man in charge of scheduling golf times told Lily. “I’d know if he was here. He isn’t.”
“Thanks.” Lily walked out of the clubhouse, climbed back into her car and sat there, frowning. Why wasn’t her father here? Where else would he be on a Saturday morning?
Maybe he’d already finished a round—although, at ten-thirty in the morning, he would have had to golf at the speed of light to accomplish that. Besides, the fellow at the clubhouse desk would have said he’d seen him.
Which meant he must have stopped somewhere on his way here. Maybe he’d had to run an errand. Or maybe there’d been an emergency and he’d been summoned. One of the things she admired about her father was his insistence on practicing medicine the way he’d always practiced it, even when that meant treating a patient on a weekend, or making a house call, or accepting payment in bushels of corn if the patient couldn’t pay with money. Managed care and insurance might have forced him to alter the way he ran his business, but he refused to alter the way he practiced medicine.
She decided she would stop by his clinic on the chance that he or his office manager was there.
She drove back into town, top down and sunglasses perched on her nose. She could feel the stares of pedestrians as she cruised slowly down North Main Street and left onto Elm, but she convinced herself she didn’t care. All she cared about was finding her father.
His clinic, which occupied a renovated house a couple of blocks from the Courthouse Square, appeared unoccupied, the windows dark. No sign of her father’s car.
Where could he be? Why had he let her mother believe he’d gone golfing if he hadn’t? Was he hiding something from her?
Maybe he was ten steps ahead of Lily, already planning some sort of surprise for her mother’s birthday. Maybe although he’d told Eleanor he was golfing, he was, in fact, booking a restaurant for a gala surprise party or ordering a customized, engraved diamond bracelet for her.
Or maybe…he was doing something he didn’t want anyone to know about. Lily had no personal experience when it came to cheating husbands—she was pretty sure Tyler had never cheated on her—but she’d seen movies and read books. Some men were the kind who told their wives they were going golfing when in reality they were doing something no decent, loving husband would do.
But Lily’s father was dece
nt and loving. If he’d lied to her mother about playing golf, he had a good reason.
She circled up to Hickory Street, slowing to the leisurely pace of the cars sharing the road with her, which gave her time to scout the vehicles parked along the curbs on either side. Spotting her father’s car parked in the lot next to the Sunnyside Café, she released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and smiled.
He’d met someone for breakfast. Maybe a friend or a golf buddy. Maybe they’d played a round so early the clerk at the golf club hadn’t realized they’d been there, and now they were enjoying a leisurely brunch. Her mother would undoubtedly have been happy to serve a brunch at the house. But men were allowed their time alone, just like women. If her father wanted to eat at the Sunnyside with a friend, why not?
Lily parked and got out of the car. The morning hadn’t grown too hot yet, and the breeze was pleasant on her bare legs and arms. Tyler used to hate it when she wore shorts in public. He believed shorts were lower class. At the house or on the tennis court, fine, but not out in public, in full view of neighbors and strangers. She used to ignore him and wear shorts, anyway. Could a woman drive her husband to drink by wearing shorts?
Out of respect, she wouldn’t let herself be pleased that she no longer had a husband to criticize her wardrobe or blame her for his own shortcomings. She would accept what happened, accept her role in it, but refuse to take any more than that onto her shoulders.
As she neared the café, she spotted her father through the glass door. He was standing at the front counter, talking to Aaron’s mother. In the relative dimness of the café, Evie Mazerik’s hair didn’t look quite as garish as Lily remembered. Her eyes were animated, nowhere near as beautiful as Aaron’s, but sparkly and lively and quite pretty. She must have been a knockout in her youth, before unwed motherhood and hard work and health problems wore her down.
Julian Bennett leaned toward Evie, hands resting on the counter. His gaze was gentle, his mouth curved in a kind smile. Evie seemed to be doing most of the talking, but her father had always been a good listener. He nodded, said something, grinned at something Evie said. Straightening, he reached across the counter and gave her hand a squeeze. Then he turned toward the door.
Lily fell back a step. She didn’t want her father to see her spying on him. Being solicitous with his neighbors and patients was simply part of who he was, a large part, but he’d probably be embarrassed if he knew she’d secretly caught him in the act of being compassionate.
He emerged into the sunlight and blinked. While he was still squinting to adjust his vision, Lily walked over to him. “Hey, Dad.”
He spun toward her. His face broke into a smile. “Lily! What a surprise!” He opened his arms and she moved into them for a hug. Fifteen years ago she would rather have plunged headfirst into a compost heap than hug her father in public. One of the great gifts of maturity was that it allowed you to express affection for your parents openly.
“Were you having brunch?” she asked.
“Hmm?” He glanced back at the café. “No. I was taking care of some business. I just stopped in there to see how Evie Mazerik is doing. I don’t know if you know her…”
“I do,” Lily said, although that wasn’t precisely true. She knew Evie’s son, and wanted to know him better. “I understand she had a stroke.”
Her father’s lips thinned as he nodded. “She refuses to quit smoking. I swear, women can be so exasperating. Not all women, of course,” he hastily added, beaming proudly at her. “You’re not. You’re perfect.”
She felt a sharp twinge inside, a mix of guilt and self-loathing. She was not perfect. Not even close. She carried a big, dark stain on her heart, and nothing was ever going to wash it away.
Perhaps someday she would tell her father. He’d learn what his darling daughter, his could-do-no-wrong princess had done, and he’d never call her perfect again.
“Mom said you were golfing this morning,” Lily told him.
His lips thinned again. “Your mother makes assumptions sometimes. She thinks if I’m going out on a Saturday morning, it can mean only one thing. If she’d opened her eyes, she might have noticed that I didn’t take my clubs with me when I left.”
The wry tone of his voice unnerved Lily, but she plowed ahead, anyway. “I wanted to talk to you about her. Do you have a minute?”
“To talk about your mother?” He frowned, then checked his watch. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, she’s going to be turning sixty soon.”
His expression relaxed. “Sixty isn’t fatal. I’m a doctor. Trust me, there’s no pathology in it.”
She laughed at his joke. “You survived it fine,” she agreed. “Mom threw a big party for you at the golf club.” Lily had flown home for the festivities, happily leaving Tyler back in Cohasset and making excuses for him to her family. Too much work, she’d said. A big complicated merger he was involved in. He had been working on a merger; despite his weaknesses, he’d been an outstanding corporate attorney, sober until the moment he walked into their home each day at sunset. He’d been born into phenomenal wealth, but he’d added to it every day with his high-pressure, high-power work.
He could have taken the weekend off to attend her father’s birthday party, though. Lily had talked him out of accompanying her. She’d been afraid he would start downing martinis, complaining all the while about the mediocre quality of the spirits and acting condescending toward her parents’ friends, making snide remarks about his small-town wife, and her family would realize what a travesty her marriage was.
Shaking off the dismal recollection, Lily dragged her mind back into the present, the future. “I think we ought to start planning something for her birthday,” she said. “Or at least we should be thinking about what we want to do for her.”
Her father shifted his weight, sliding into the shadow cast by the building behind him. Even at sixty-two, he was extremely handsome, his complexion sun-bronzed, his eyes a silvery blue, his nose straight and his teeth even. He still had all his hair, graying only at the temples. He could have passed for a model or a movie star.
He considered Lily’s suggestion thoughtfully. “What do you think she’d like? Not a party.”
Probably not. Eleanor Bennett was nowhere near as gregarious as her husband.
“Jewelry?” he asked.
“Or maybe a trip. A cruise.”
“A week at a golf resort.”
“Dad.” Lily laughed, and her father did, too.
“This is for Mom, not for you.” Despite her laughter, she was irked that her father didn’t know what her mother might like. He’d lived with her for thirty-seven years. Surely he ought to have an inkling about whether or not she would appreciate a new piece of jewelry. “Maybe she’d like to spend a few days at a spa.”
“A spa?” Her father looked perplexed. “Whatever for?”
Did he really not have a clue? Didn’t he know his wife was buying anti-aging creams and reviving her hair with a new cut and a gray-concealing color? Wasn’t he even remotely aware that she seemed to be approaching a significant birthday with less than wholehearted enthusiasm?
“I think she’s worried about getting old,” Lily said.
He frowned again. “That’s silly. Getting old is better than not getting old.”
His lack of sensitivity surprised Lily. He could be so considerate with his patients, yet he seemed to lack sympathy for the woman he was married to. “Aging isn’t always easy for a woman,” she said. “I may be wrong, but I think Mom is apprehensive about turning sixty.”
“I haven’t noticed,” her father said.
She tamped down a surge of annoyance. He should have noticed. If he’d paid enough attention, he would have.
But she didn’t want to be angry with her father. Not this man whom she’d adored all her life. “I just think we ought to do something special for her birthday. Sixty is a milestone. Remember the party she hosted for you? She deserves something that big.”
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br /> “I thought we already decided I shouldn’t host a party. Have you changed your mind?”
His obtuseness annoyed her. Surely he knew Eleanor would feel uncomfortable being the center of attention at a fancy catered party. She loved arranging celebrations for others, but had never liked being feted herself.
“No,” Lily said, joining her father in the shade so she could see him better. “I haven’t changed my mind. Don’t host a party. Mom wouldn’t enjoy it.”
“You really think she’d want to go to a spa?” He studied Lily, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been living a different sort of life from what we’re used to in Riverbend, Lily. People around here don’t go to spas.”
It distressed her that she might have come across sounding like a snob. Even when she’d been attending fund-raisers and seeing her photo in the “Party Lines” column of the Boston Globe, she’d never fit in with the society of women who went to spas. She’d never gone to one; she couldn’t picture herself with mud on her face and cucumber slices on her eyes, with strangers massaging every inch of her and dietitians prescribing microscopic portions of food—and charging her a fortune.
But that wasn’t what she’d had in mind for her mother. She’d been thinking about a day of being pampered—a facial, a manicure to repair the nails she was forever chipping and breaking as she gardened, a pedicure just for the luxury of it and—why not?—a massage. Something that would make her mother feel beautiful and special. Something that would make her feel loved.
“All right,” she said. “A cruise. Or fly to Hawaii. Just the two of you. Something romantic.”
“Lily.” Her father sighed, buried his hands in his trouser pockets and gave her a bewildered smile.
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