Brooke nodded. “Of course.” But thanks, Dad!
“Anyway,” Neve went on. “Nate and the officers handling the investigation worked through the weekend making phone calls and setting up interviews. Your principal Liz opened the school early and kept it open late. The kids involved and their parents funneled in and out from two hours before classes started until nine at night on Monday and Tuesday.”
Neve took a bottle of iced tea out of her bag, twisted off the top, and took a sip. “According to Nate, the little lying heathens you affectionately refer to as ‘your students’ felt awful, thinking they got you fired. Their parents felt even worse—absolutely appalled that their little darlings were involved in the scandal. And”—Neve said with a big smile—“as of ten o’clock last night, I’m not sure of the exact terminology Nate used, but they determined the claims made on Facebook were unsubstantiated and they closed the investigation.”
Thank you, God. Brooke clutched her chest and sucked in a humongous breath, feeling able to fully expand her lungs for the first time in days. But, “What about the girl who alleged I served alcohol to minors?”
“About that,” Neve kicked off her sneakers and shifted her position, bringing both feet up onto the bed. “Contentious divorce. The mother had an absolute hissy fit when she found out about the—and I quote Nate—‘false claims of concern made by her no-good, uninvolved soon-to-be ex-husband on behalf of their daughter.’ ” Neve took a small bite of muffin.
“In her statement she said she was in your condo to pick up her daughter. She saw no alcohol and no signs of intoxication in you or the students at the party. You offered her some punch and she tasted no alcohol. And, she reported, she later came down with the same stomach bug her daughter had. For the record, the husband and his uncle are both heavily involved in politics and both support your dad’s opponent. Aaron is handling it now.”
Since Brooke had never been involved in a situation like this, she wondered aloud, “What happens to the kids?”
“Well, if you’d like to know what I think should happen: Since the parenting skills of today’s moms and dads are severely lacking—which I know firsthand because I, too, deal with their horribly behaved offspring on a regular basis—I think the kids involved should have to spend a night in jail.”
“Neve!”
“Okay,” she relented. “Maybe jail is too harsh. A night locked in the basement of the school would work. Someplace scary that will give them adequate time to reflect on their transgressions and write you a ten-thousand-word letter of apology.”
Brooke laughed. It felt good. Neve always made her feel better. “A night locked in a basement and ten thousand words? You don’t think that’s a bit much?”
“Luckily for the lying heathens, it doesn’t matter what I think. Nate is working with Liz to create a program about the power and danger of social media, and the responsibility children have when they use it.” She took a sip from her bottle of iced tea. “And I believe the school is planning some type of discipline, but I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s over.” Her overwhelming relief fled, however, when Brooke remembered her father’s request. “Now my dad will want me to go on television to talk about it.” She flopped back on the bed, covering her eyes with her arm, the tightness returning to her chest.
“My car’s parked outside.” Neve said. “We can be out of here in ten minutes. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
She wanted to go back to New Jersey. To Shane’s house. But, “I can’t.” She’d promised her mother she’d attend the press conference her father was likely in the process of scheduling. And Shane didn’t want her anymore.
“After the press conference then. Let’s move somewhere new, someplace we can both start over,” Neve said, avoiding Brooke’s gaze.
“Why do you need to start over?”
Neve shrugged.
“What happened?”
Neve lifted her head, sad eyes meeting Brooke’s. “Rory’s coming home. He says he wants to see me. I wish I’d never given him my home address.”
“What did you tell him?”
“If he comes near me, I’ll have him arrested…again.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shane didn’t leave for New York until late Thursday afternoon, partly because Aaron took his damn time returning his calls. After a restless night in a hotel room, he arrived at 0900 Friday morning, an hour before the press conference, to meet Aaron in the lobby of Mr. Ellstein’s office building.
“You clean up pretty good,” Aaron said, much more welcoming than Shane had expected after their first two heated cellphone conversations. “Not sure if I should shake your hand or salute.”
Shane held out his hand, glad he’d decided to wear his army dress greens rather than fatigues. “How is she?”
Aaron shook his hand and motioned toward the elevators with his chin. “She’s hardly eating and today she’s barely said two words.”
Shane couldn’t wait to pull Brooke into his arms to reassure her and comfort her, assuming she let him anywhere near her.
“She’s waiting in my office,” Aaron said. They took the elevator up. “As requested you two will have some time to talk alone beforehand, as long as you promise not to upset her.”
“I won’t.” At least he hoped he wouldn’t.
“Right now, Nate’s in with Mr. Ellstein briefing him on the investigation.”
Great. Nate who wanted to fight him. “Who knows I’m here?”
“Only Mr. Ellstein. We decided it best not to tell Brooke.”
They exited the elevator to the left, and Shane followed Aaron down a long carpeted hallway until he stopped at a closed office door and turned to face him. “If she doesn’t want to see you, you leave without incident. That was the deal.”
Right about now, with uncertainty flapping around in his belly like a bunch of agitated crows, Shane regretted agreeing. But he gave a quick nod, and Aaron knocked as he pushed open the door.
Brooke stood, staring out the window, wearing light brown perfectly pleated slacks, brown pumps with pointy toes, and a cream-colored sweater set that looked exceptionally soft. She stroked her pearls but didn’t turn around.
Sexy Brooke, who’d danced with abandon and laughed with gusto, had been replaced by prim-and-proper Brooke. Shane loved them both.
“Brought someone up to see you,” Aaron said.
That’s when Shane noticed her watching him in the reflection of the glass. Still she said nothing. Not the reception he’d hoped for.
“Do you want him to leave?” Aaron asked.
She turned, looked Shane in the eye, and quietly asked, “Why did you come?”
“I promised to be here for the press conference.” His answer sounded lame, even to his own ears.
She resumed looking out the window, giving him her back. “If that’s the only reason, you can go. I told you I’d handle it myself.”
“I’m sorry,” Shane blurted out, feeling his chance to win her back starting to shrivel. “I acted like a jerk, which seems to be an arbitrary yet chronic affliction as I adjust to life after my injury. My psych doc called it adjusting to my new normal.” He took a few limping steps toward her, hoping to bridge the gap between them. “I was stupid to let myself get drawn into a fight. I put myself at unnecessary risk. You were the only one in that bar who cared about me enough to try to stop it.”
“That’s not true.” She twirled to face him. “Robbie, Pat, your sisters. They all care about you. Charlotte told me you needed that fight to prove to yourself and everyone at the bar you could do it. To prove you were still tough, still capable. But you shouldn’t have to—”
“You’re right,” he interrupted, because she was starting to get upset and he’d promised Aaron he wouldn’t upset her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Aaron cleared his throat. “You okay with him staying, Brooke?”
She nodded.
Thank God.
; From the doorway Aaron said, “I’m going to tell your dad he’s here. Then I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
The door closed, leaving the two of them alone.
Shane didn’t know how long they’d have privacy to talk so he got right to work trying to fix things between them. “It took Ma to help me see that my friends at home, and even my sisters to some extent, want me to get back to being the man I used to be—the one they’re comfortable with.” His leg started to go numb so he shifted his stance. “Even I wanted that. But I’ve seen too much; I’ve been through too much. It’s taken this unfortunate incident for me to finally realize I’ll never be that man again. I have a new normal. I’m a different person. And I need to make adjustments to my life accordingly.”
“Such as?”
“I’ve moved out of my parents’ house.”
Brooke’s eyes went wide. “Where to?”
Before he could answer, someone knocked on the door and Aaron walked in. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Mr. Ellstein’s aide would like to speak with you before we head to the conference room.” He pointed at Brooke. “You stay here. The reporters and news crews are starting to arrive.”
Brooke stroked her pearls.
Shane covered her cold fingers with his and stared deeply into each of her eyes. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this, together.”
She gave him a weak smile.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
—
The next time Shane had Brooke alone they were done with the press conference and in his Jeep on the way to her parents’ house for brunch. “That was a lot easier than I thought it’d be.” Mostly because Brooke’s dad, Len, had maintained control over the reporters and answered most of the questions himself.
“This is a terrible idea,” Brooke said from the passenger seat beside him, rubbing her hands together, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “I should have anticipated an invitation back to the house. I should have been prepared with an excuse.”
He hated to think it, but: “You don’t want me to meet your mother? Do I embarrass you?”
“Good heavens, no. My family embarrasses me—my mother, in particular. Thank goodness my two sisters are in school. Two against two are better odds than four against two.”
“I’m a grown man,” he assured her. “I can handle your mother and your sisters.” He’d have to. They were her family, and she was his future. After their long meeting, he got the feeling he’d already won over her father.
She shook her head, her expression grave. “You may think you can handle my mother, but you’re wrong. If she doesn’t like you she’ll unassumingly pick away at your confidence. She’ll burrow under your skin and slowly peel it back until your flesh is left totally exposed,” she said, completely serious.
Shane almost smiled at the dramatics. “What makes you think your mother won’t like me? I can be quite charming if I put my mind to it.”
“Your charm has absolutely nothing to do with it. You’re going in with two strikes against you.” She held up her index finger. “One. You are partly to blame for the Facebook scandal that has formed an unsightly blemish on the face of her perfect life and perfect family.” Her middle finger joined her index finger. “Two, my father told the world you’re my boyfriend.”
“He did that in an attempt to justify why you’d given me that negligee picture. You have to admit, giving it to your boyfriend sounds a lot better than giving it to a soldier you’d only met one time.” Len had asked for permission beforehand. Shane had agreed, gladly, proud for it to be known publicly.
“It doesn’t matter why he said it. Now, in my mother’s eyes, you’re a threat to the future she has planned out for me. She is going to go after you without mercy. I need a drink. Something with a lot of alcohol.” She looked around as if trying to spot a bar.
He reached for her hand and found it ice-cold. “Relax.” He brought it to his mouth and set a tender kiss on her palm. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“It’s not.” He hated to see her on the edge of all-out panic. “You’ll see. It’s going to be a total disaster.”
Shane followed the black sedan that held Aaron and Len into the paved circular driveway of a large, stately brick colonial house that reeked of money. Five large windows upstairs and four on the ground level were rimmed in white and flanked by black shutters. Four impressive white pillars ran from a cement porch up to the roof. Two black wrought-iron chairs sat on either side of the black front door. The large front lawn, trees, and shrubs lining a wide stone walkway were landscaped to perfection.
“It’s too late for me,” Brooke said quietly. “You still have time to save yourself. I could tell them you’re tired.”
Then they’d see him as too weak for their daughter. “No.” He put the Jeep into park and turned off the engine. “I want to meet your mother.”
Brooke mumbled something that sounded like “Famous last words,” as she opened her door, got out, and walked over to say something to Aaron and her dad, who’d driven back to park by the detached garage behind the house.
Shane watched her as he reached into the backseat to grab his cane, then got out of the Jeep. Her dad glanced in his direction then proceeded toward the house. Aaron got back into his car.
When Brooke returned she came to stand beside him. “I told them we needed a few minutes to talk, to buy you some time.”
“Good, because I have been wanting to do this.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said against her lips. Every single minute of every day they’d been apart.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.
“I have a hotel room. When we’re done here, please say you’ll go there with me. We have so much to talk about.”
She pulled away. “We can discuss that after.”
“Why after?”
“Trust me. There’s a very good chance you’ll want nothing to do with me after this nightmare brunch. Come on.” She took off up the stone walkway. “Let’s get this over with.”
The interior of the home was even grander than the outside. White marble floors lined the large entryway. A little ways back a wide cherrywood staircase leading to the second level split into an impressive V halfway up.
Shane went to kick off his shoes.
“Don’t,” Brooke whispered. “Mother thinks it’s rude to have people walking around her house in their stocking feet.”
Well, alrighty then.
Brooke took his arm. Shane found it strange that no one had come to greet them.
An angry female voice yelled, “Honestly, Len. What on earth were you thinking? Saying that low-class enlisted soldier is Brooke’s boyfriend. What will people think?”
Brooke called out, “We can hear you, Mother.” Then she turned to Shane. “I apologize for every horrible thing my mother has said or is about to say.”
He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “You are not responsible for your mother.”
“Yes, I know.” She started to walk. “I feel the need to apologize, nonetheless.”
When they entered the formal dining room, Shane found it even stranger that Mr. and Mrs. Ellstein were already seated, Len at the head of a long rectangular mahogany table, Brooke’s mother to his left, facing them. China, crystal, and white cloth napkins and place mats were set for four. Enough eggs, French toast, and fruit for twenty people had been set out on large serving platters.
Her mother had gone all out…to make Shane feel uncomfortable.
“Oh, thank goodness it was only being on television,” Brooke’s mother said when she saw them. “You looked like you’d gained twenty pounds. And your hair. Are you using the conditioner Alberto recommended?”
“Hello to you, too, Mother,” Brooke said. “Shane Develen, I’d like to introduce my mother, Judith Ellstein.”
“You may call me ‘Mrs. Ellstein,’ ” Judith said regal
ly, acknowledging his lowness with a slight tilt of her head. No warm hug. No handshake. No real welcome at all, because he wasn’t welcome.
Even so, he gave her his best smile, accompanied by a small bow. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Ellstein.”
Len sat there, slightly overweight, with his roundish, smart face topped off by receding dark hair mixed with strands of gray. He looked like the warmer of the two, which wasn’t saying much. Yet he did nothing to curb or atone for his wife’s unpleasantness.
The thin, petite Mrs. Ellstein sat ramrod straight, the nasty-stick shoved up her ass doing its job. Her black-and-white swirly blazer and chunky jewelry were the picture of upscale clothing and accessories for the wealthy woman who wanted people to know it. The long, thick light brown bangs and the cropped hair hugging/partially hiding her face were the picture of a trendy hairstyle for an aging woman who didn’t want people to know it.
“Mother, I think you owe Shane an apology.” Brooke pulled out the chair closest to her father and facing her mother.
Shane hurried to pull it out the rest of the way.
“Nonsense,” her mother said with a dismissive wave of her hand that introduced him to the obscenely large, fancy rings on three of her boney fingers for the first time. “Mr. Develen understands, don’t you Mr. Develen?” She picked up Len’s plate and served him some eggs and fruit. Brooke took Shane’s plate and did the same, starting with some French toast.
“Just so I’m not mistaken,” Shane said. “Would you please explain exactly what it is I should understand?” He placed his napkin on his lap.
Judith speared him with her hard brown eyes, the color similar to Brooke’s yet completely devoid of her warmth and softness. “If you want me to say it, I will. You simply are not good enough for our daughter.”
“Mother!”
“Do not raise your voice to me, young lady.” Judith caught them both with her icy gaze. “Look around you.” She placed Len’s plate in front of him and lifted her arms, indicating the beauty of the room. It was indeed beautiful; he couldn’t argue with that. “This is the lifestyle my daughter deserves. Can you give her this?”
Loving You Is Easy Page 24