by Susan Floyd
“Sure. How else would they have fit so perfectly into your already existing spaces? Believe me these models are usually built for much bigger kitchens.”
Beth Ann rolled her eyes. Of course, Christian would never say anything about custom-ordering. She said conversationally, “You know I’ve been cooking with Iris’s stove my whole life. This one came with an owner’s manual an inch thick.”
“Has Glenn seen all this?”
Beth Ann shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m still getting used to them.” She pointed to the stove. “It’s smart.”
“Smart?”
“It won’t run without an access code. It was Christian’s idea.” Beth Ann’s eyes motioned in the direction of her grandmother.
Fred nodded with a quick glance at Iris. “He’s a good man. Let me say hello to this lovely young lady.” Fred crossed the kitchen to where Iris was still frosting the cake and put his hands around her eyes. “Guess who?” he asked, even though Iris had greeted him already. It was a game the two of them had played for years. Beth Ann smiled, feeling a little teary.
“Prince Charles?” Iris guessed and then giggled.
“Almost, but not quite.”
“Prince Fred?”
“Close enough.” He gave her a big hug and then kissed her cheek. Warmth passed through Beth Ann and she actually wiped her eyes. With Fred and Glenn behind her, as they always were, Beth Ann knew she could do anything. Even raise her sister’s child. Or be in love with her sister’s husband.
Bernie squealed. “Unckiss! Unckiss!”
Beth Ann looked at Fred. “Christian is back.” And the two of them went out to greet him.
“Christian, I’d like you to meet one of my best friends, Fred,” Beth Ann said lightly, as she and Fred walked into the living room.
Christian shook hands with him and Beth Ann was struck again by his charm as he said, “I’m glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Fred nodded. “You, too.”
Christian turned to his friend, who surveyed the disarray in the small living space. “Beth Ann, this is one of my best friends—”
“And Caroline’s,” Max put in, shooting a meaningful glance at Beth Ann.
Hiding the shudder that ran down her spine, she smiled the perkiest smile she could and shook his hand, which was cool and a little soft. “Glad you could make it for Bernie’s birthday.” She released his hand quickly.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Max said, his voice too silky, too smooth. He stared down at Bernie who looked up for the briefest of moments before dismissing him.
Bernie turned to Christian and asked with the sweetest little-girl voice, “Fuff?”
Christian bent down to pick her up, and Bernie gave him a big hug and snuggled into his shoulder. Beth Ann’s heart grew warm again. It was hard to imagine the two of them hadn’t always been doing that, rather than for just the past month.
“Fluff is still missing?” Christian asked, his tone telling her how concerned he was about the fate of the bear.
Bernie nodded seriously.
“Where could he have gone?”
“Don’t know!” Bernie gave an adorable shrug of her shoulders.
All the adults laughed except for Max, who continued to assess Bernie with his sharp eyes.
Beth Ann looked at Max, then back at Bernie, her stomach tightening as her eyes took in what he was seeing. She stepped back and shook her head. Surely not. She shot a quick glance at Glenn, to see if he saw it, too. But he wasn’t looking at Max. Her gaze returned to Christian’s friend. She hadn’t spent the past few weeks drawing faces without memorizing every curve, every feature of Bernie’s face.
Beth Ann felt her throat close and she shut her eyes tight, trying to fend off the implications of what she saw. She gave a quick prayer. Carrie, please say you didn’t. Please say you at least had the dignity to sleep with a complete stranger, not your husband’s best friend. Beth Ann opened her eyes again to see Max grinning at her.
Laughing, Christian put Bernie down. She tore through the living room looking for Fluff, calling his name. His grin faded when Beth Ann wouldn’t look at him, her posture suddenly tense. Fred and Glenn continued to play with Bernie and she shrieked, becoming even more hyper with all the attention, as they took their antics into the kitchen.
Christian was concerned. Beth Ann was staring at Max, her face pale and withdrawn. Max, his hands shoved in his pockets, studied the photos on the shelves. Christian crossed the room to her.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
The pain in her eyes stabbed at his own heart.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, steering her away from Max.
She just looked up at him helplessly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Christian.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. None.
“Beth Ann, you’re not making sense. What are you sorry about?”
“He’s her father.” Her voice was barely audible.
His heart flip-flopped, but his brain refused to process what she was saying.
“Who is whose father?”
“Max. Look at him,” she whispered. “I swear. Carrie never told me.”
Christian glanced toward Max and then dismissed her observation. “No, you’ve got to be mistaken.”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve been drawing Bernie’s face all month.”
“Max has one of those faces that’s very common,” he rationalized.
Beth Ann was silent.
Christian looked at Max. There wasn’t a resemblance at all. Bernie looked much more like Caroline. Hell, she could look like him.
He glanced at Beth Ann and saw that her good eye was welling up.
He swallowed hard. No. It couldn’t be. Caroline wouldn’t—Max?
“Glenn, don’t eat all the icing!” Iris’s voice came from the kitchen followed by a burst of laughter, as Glenn shot out the swinging door with the bowl of left-over frosting. Bernie ran behind him, demanding that he share his booty.
Christian felt his stomach wrench. There was no denying it. Bernie, who followed Glenn through the living room, down the hall, and back into the kitchen, looked exactly like Max.
The appearance and disappearance of her daughter pushed Beth Ann into action.
She stepped toward Max with a friendly smile. “Make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink?”
“Hot around this area, isn’t it?” Max said conversationally. “I’d love something to drink, thank you.”
“There’s not much planned for today except lots of food and drink. Feel free to watch television. We get a bunch of channels.”
“No thanks.” Max looked around. “Your place is, er, nice.”
Christian could have kissed Beth Ann as she smiled with her general disregard to her poverty and said, “We like to think of it as homey. I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to.”
Max had the grace to let that pass.
Another burst of laughter came from the kitchen.
Beth Ann headed in that direction flashing Christian a reassuring smile. His own returning smile was stiff enough to break off.
“I better go see what all the fun is about,” Beth Ann said.
Then Christian and Max were alone.
“You son of a bitch,” Christian said quietly.
“What?” Max gave him a speculative look, his eyes almost yellow. He had adopted a bland, innocent expression.
“You know what. Now I know why you were so eager to come.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Max shook his head. He got up and looked out the living-room window with a whistle. “She probably doesn’t have to buy any food at all. Does she slaughter her own chickens and pigs as well?”
Christian found Max’s humor offensive.
“You should relax more,” Max said, his voice tinged with condescension.
“You couldn’t leave her alone.”
“Leave who alone? I just got here.”
Max finally looked at him and Christian saw a coldness in his best friend’s eyes. He had seen it many times before but never directed at himself.
Max continued, “Not that I really know what you’re talking about, but let’s just say you’re talking about Caroline. You’re a fine one to talk about leaving her alone. You did it all the time.”
“I had to work. She liked the cruises.”
Max gave him a mocking smile. “Yeah, right. Mr. Elliott of the Elliott family empire. You are such a liar. You could not work forever and your greatgrandchildren would have enough money to live whatever kind of life-style they wanted. You didn’t have to work. You chose to work. You chose work over everything else, your wife and your family.”
“I didn’t see you complaining.”
Max shook his head. “Me complain? Never. You’re my ticket. Caroline was delicious. You have excellent taste in women.” Max wrinkled his nose. “Though I’m not quite sure what the attraction to the sister is.”
“You did sleep with Caroline.” Christian could barely think straight he was so angry. His stomach soured at the thought of Caroline and Max together. All of Max’s smiles and gestures of friendships—
“I wasn’t the only one,” Max said, seeming to take delight in Christian’s shock. “Do you actually think she was celibate on all those cruises? You took the vow of chastity, not your wife. You should have seen her, been with her.”
“So it was my fault?”
Max nodded pleasantly, his eyes sparking with malice. “Yes. I think it was.”
“Well, you can start looking for a new job.” Christian said in a low undertone.
“I don’t think I need to.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“D-Tech, my man.”
“What about it?”
“I think the company will be enough to keep me satisfied. I won’t ever have to work for you again. Ever. I won’t have to be your right-hand man. I won’t have to bow to your kingship. I kind of fancy the idea of being CEO of my own software company.”
“DirectTech is Bernie’s.”
“And if I prove paternity, I think I would have a good case for making it mine.” Max gave him a nice grin. “You know. I think I’m going to enjoy this birthday party.”
“I won’t let you have it,” Christian said through gritted teeth. “Caroline wanted Bernie to have it.”
“What’s Bernie’s is mine, apparently.”
It took every bit of control that Christian had not to slam his balled fist into Max’s leering face. The muscles in his shoulder twitched as he fought the reflex that coursed through his body.
“You want to hit me so badly, don’t you?” Max said mockingly. “But Christian Elliott is always in control. He can never show emotion. He can never be happy or sad. Besides, we’re in his girlfriend’s house and he’s too polite.”
“You can’t have DirectTech.”
Max nodded and gave him an audacious wink. “I think I can.”
“So how about lunch?” Beth Ann called as she walked into the room, her voice cheerful. “Glenn’s almost done with the cake. It only took four people to make a cake that Bern’s not even going to remember.”
Max laughed and uttered to Christian under his breath. “Saved by the bell.” And then with his voice projected said, “I’d love some lunch, Beth Ann.”
“This isn’t over,” Christian murmured, his jaw hurting because he was clenching it so tightly.
Max said under the smile, “You’re right, my friend. I think it’s just beginning.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BETH ANN CHOSE to ignore the tension that bristled in the living room. She put out all the food on the kitchen table, broke out the paper plates and bade everyone to eat. Fred and Glenn did their best to make light conversation, and the mystery of the vanished Fluff remained a topic of much speculation. As Bernie ate her lunch, Christian reverted back to the man he’d been when he’d first arrived, reserved and distanced from whatever was going on. His handsome face smiled, while his eyes were shuttered closed. It broke her heart, because he couldn’t even look at Bernie, not even when she tugged on his shirt to be lifted on to his lap.
After lunch, Beth Ann found him in the garden, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“I think we have some unfinished business,” she said, not shrinking from the chill in his eyes.
“Yes?” His voice was urbane.
“Yes,” she said forcing her voice to be cheerful. “You said you were going to stay.”
He nodded.
“Are you still up for it?” She moved as close to him as she could without touching him. “I’d love the extra time to paint.”
He was quiet for a long time. “I don’t know anymore.”
Beth Ann didn’t know what that meant, but dread settled in the middle of her chest. Now wasn’t the time to be coy, so she asked bluntly, “What don’t you know anymore?”
“I don’t know if I can stay on. There might be things I need to take care of.”
“Something you didn’t have to take care of last week?”
He shook his head. “Max changed my mind.”
Beth Ann nodded, although she had no idea what he was talking about. Christian turned away from her and studied the tomatoes.
“I was thinking you should probably trim those back,” Christian said. “I was reading you could get another crop of fruit in late summer if you do.” He was definitely changing the subject.
“Sure, okay. I’ll trim the tomatoes back,” Beth Ann said agreeably. “Do you want to tell me what it is that you need to take care of now that you didn’t have to take care of yesterday?”
Christian rocked back on his heels and turned his attention to the beans.
“Don’t talk to me about the beans.” Beth Ann shook his arm. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t.”
“Can’t, won’t. It doesn’t make a difference.” He looked back at the house. “It’s not too hot. I think Bernie will really like it out here. She missed her morning trip to the garden.”
“Christian.”
“What?” His voice was hoarse and Beth Ann could tell how hard he was fighting to keep control.
Beth Ann sighed. During his time with them he’d been open, honest and straightforward, but now he’d reverted to someone who could barely communicate. Is this what had frustrated Carrie? Beth Ann suddenly felt a rush of sympathy for her sister. It was hard to take when Christian turned into a statue every time he was given a difficult emotional task. But the difference between Carrie and herself was that Beth Ann always stuck around to finish the battle. She wasn’t a runner. Carrie had been and from the looks of it so was Christian. No wonder they’d never spent any time with each other.
“I’m not going anywhere, Christian,” Beth Ann said quietly, fighting her own urge to cry. She could feel him slipping through her hands, slipping away from her and from Bernie. And she felt as helpless to keep him with her as she did keeping Iris in the present.
“What?” He looked at her sharply.
“I’m good old dependable Beth Ann. I don’t have Carrie’s beauty or glamour, but I don’t have her flight shoes either. I’m not going anywhere and this home isn’t going anywhere. So you can go take care of what it is you have to take care of and when you’re done, we’ll be here.”
Christian fought the lump in his throat. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy,” she replied simply, breathing deeply, hoping that he could feel what she was saying. “It’s just knowing what’s real and what’s not. This garden is real. Bernie is real. I’m real. This is all real. Max isn’t real. Money isn’t even all that real. Your not being able to look at that little girl, even though she wanted your attention—” she shook her head as tears spilled over “—that’s made up. You made that up all by yourself.”
Her words made the lump grow larger. She couldn’t understand. She didn’t understand.
“I’m going to get Bernie,” he said with a forced smile and walked away from her.
“Christian?”
He paused, a pulse pounding so hard in his temple that he couldn’t see straight. “Yes?”
Beth Ann looked as if she was going to say something more but then she shook her head again, as she dabbed her index finger around her black eye, wiping away her tears. “Nothing. I think I’ll go and invite the Marquezes to share some birthday cake.” She started walking briskly toward the dairy.
Christian didn’t know what to think. All he knew was there was no way Max was going to get his hands on DirectTech. It wasn’t his and it didn’t belong to him. It was Bernie’s.
“Max, let’s take Bernie to the garden,” Christian said, his voice clipped as he strode into the living room. Fred and Iris were talking quietly and Glenn was playing with Bernie.
“Garden!” Bernie squealed and started to run around.
“Why don’t you change her first?” Glenn suggested.
“No! Pitty!” Bernie pulled at her dress.
“It’s hot out there,” Max said warily. He was well into his third beer and watching golf on television.
“You can stand under a tree. It’s not so bad.”
“I think I’ll pass.” Max waved the beer bottle in the air with a nod.
“No, I don’t think you will.”
“Garden!” Bernie said imperiously and tugged at Christian’s pant leg.
“Max. Please join us.” Christian didn’t care that Fred and Glenn exchanged a glance.
Christian walked out, holding open the screen door for Bernie as she took the steps. Bernie pulled her arm from Christian’s protective grip. “I do stairs.”
“Okay,” Christian said, keeping a watchful eye on her. “But be careful.” He tucked a light finger into her collar just in case she slipped, but Bernie did just fine. As he looked over his shoulder, he was grimly pleased to see Max slowly following.
“Cute little beggar, isn’t it?” Max said as he took a deep swig of beer. He watched Bernie start to collect a pile of dirt clods.
“She. Bernie is a she. She’s not an it,” Christian corrected him, the inflection of his voice belying his calm.
“What kind of name is Bernie?” Max asked rhetorically. “It sounds like the name of a deli manager.” Max belched and then turned his tawny eyes on Christian. Insolence emanated from him. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”