One to Win

by Michelle Monkou

  “Fiona, would you excuse us, please?” Grace’s dismissal carried no edge.

  However, Fiona didn’t budge. Instead she looked at her mother—waiting for her input, perhaps?

  “I won’t talk while she’s here.” Verona barely looked at Fiona and pointedly kept her eyes on Grace.

  “I’m your daughter.” Fiona looked at Grace for help. “Maybe I should be here. Need to be here.” Her plea ended with the back of her hand furtively brushing against Leo’s. An impromptu partnership for the skirmish ahead.

  Grace raised her hand to put a halt to Fiona’s stand. “Not yet, dear.”

  “Not ever,” Verona snapped. “Oh, Mother, you cannot do this.”

  Leo shifted his weight, uneasy with this detour from business meeting into a moment ripe for a family counseling session. His hand no longer touched Fiona’s, because she’d stepped away at her mother’s less-than-welcoming outburst.

  “Fiona—”

  “Grandma, don’t bother. I’ll leave the secret talks for the inner circle. And someday, Mom, you should stop thinking that everything is all about you. I’m not an inconvenience.” Fiona stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

  Leo rocked up on his toes and settled back into his stance. Fiona’s fiery delivery was epic. He buried the inappropriate chuckle attempting to erupt from the base of his throat. The effort wasn’t completely successful. Verona directed her cold scrutiny over his entire body. Damn.

  “Why is he here?” Verona asked. Her scowl seemed to be a permanent feature.

  “Leo is assisting me with finding my grandchild.”

  “You told me he was working on the will.” Verona’s attention snapped back to Grace. The revelation turned up her displeasure a notch.

  “That, too.”

  Maybe Grace knew how to handle her eldest daughter. He was impressed with the soothing calmness of her voice, as if all of this—whatever this was—had a reasonable explanation. His management of irate clients didn’t extend to mothers who felt threatened and betrayed by family members.

  “You are determined to go through with this.” Verona kept him in her sight as she addressed Grace. “How could you?”

  “Ever since you told me the news of my grandson, I have blamed myself for not knowing. Your stay at college was no excuse for not telling me. Looks like I wasn’t the mother who you could confide in with such a tremendous burden but also a tremendous blessing. But when you reach my age, when tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, wisdom has a way of sinking in. What’s important has a way of knocking on stubborn heads—like mine. I don’t have time to sit around surrounded by regrets. At my eightieth birthday, I want my family—everyone—there to celebrate with me.” Now Grace sat in the chair Leo had vacated, not behind the desk where she normally sat to oversee her business and family matters. Instead she was a mother talking to her child.

  Leo didn’t doubt Grace’s sincerity. Although he was shocked that she spoke so plainly and honestly in front of him. But neither woman paid him any mind. From his viewpoint, he was the spectator at a private show.

  Grace displayed her shrewdness in assuming the role of peacekeeper whose actions were misunderstood. No public interview he’d ever seen had captured the inner feelings of this powerful woman.

  But she wasn’t done, as she continued, “Why didn’t you tell me, Verona? You knew that once you’d told me, I would want to meet this young man. For almost thirty-five years, this life has grown without my love.” She paused and uttered a dry chuckle. “Some might argue that’s a good thing.”

  Verona hung her head. Despite the sophisticated tailored pantsuit, sensible heels and no-nonsense bun she wore, she looked like the young, college-aged mother-to-be she had been who was afraid of so much. “You’ll continue on with or without me.”

  “Yes.”

  Verona stared at the floor.

  “But I’d rather have you as an ally.”

  Her daughter’s head shot up. “And thus the Meadows empire was born.”

  “And lasted.” Grace’s tone was unapologetic.

  “Then I don’t have to stay.”

  As the vested observer, Leo knew what he wanted out of this dilemma—to give Grace her grandson and to give Verona some peace of mind. But for Fiona, he wanted to rebuild what they had torn down between them. He wanted to see her and her mother reconcile and the rocky road between her and Grace smoothed over.

  Maybe everything he wanted was too much to hope for, considering that his secret—his role—would cause her pain. His actions might be seen as such a betrayal that he wouldn’t be able to fix it with hug and a kiss.

  He stepped up squarely into the spotlight. “Verona, if I may, would you at least consider staying until I’ve completed my investigation? You might change your mind.”

  A slow turn of her head, and she said, “You don’t get to weigh in on this.”

  “I beg to differ. Leo’s assistance is exemplary. I would rather not have a fight among the family and with my guest. So please reconsider leaving today. You could help us.”

  Verona turned her shoulders away from him. “No, I certainly will not help you with this, as if it’s some weepy cable movie. But I will wait for his report.” At least she’d acknowledged that he had an important role.

  “Then go to Fiona and make peace with your daughter,” Grace urged with less softness and more firmness.

  Verona didn’t indicate that she agreed to Grace’s last request or that she’d do it. Instead she left the room without another word, taking along with her the snap-and-crackle vibes that had killed the earlier workflow.

  “With all due respect, Grace, I feel that this would go a lot easier if you and Verona moved with one accord,” Leo said.

  “With all due respect, Leo, we did start out with one accord to find the child. Verona has waffled. I have not. She will come round.” Her final sentiment didn’t have the usual hubris.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He opened his notebook. “Then let’s back to work.”

  She rewarded him with a wide smile. “Good work ethic. You continue to impress me.”

  Leo held on to the compliment. He was getting good at pretending. No one suspected the battle waged between his conscience and with heart.

  * * *

  Fiona fumed. She didn’t like being tossed out of Grace’s office. She certainly didn’t like being ignored by her mother. And as for Leo, well... She paused to consider his offense—not stepping up to her defense. But was that a crime? “He’s definitely working for Grace. Probably could be employee of the week,” she mused aloud.

  “A good thing, right?” Belinda playfully pulled on Fiona’s hair.

  Fiona smiled. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Oh, well, that sounds like a promising, juicy bit.” Belinda waited for her to continue.

  “Well, kinda...” Fiona sighed and left her cousin hanging. Instead she switched gears away from the very personal tidbits. As she sat on the bedroom window seat of her favorite lookout point over the front driveway, she remarked, “What could they possibly be talking about that has my mother acting like a ditz?”

  “It’s not like you aren’t all melodramatic.” Dana blew on her fingers after painting her nails neon green. She sat cross-legged on Fiona’s bed. “I’m really liking this vacation. I feel...liberated.”

  “Whatever that means.” Belinda walked to the other window seat.

  “I’m feeling unburdened. No phones. No meetings,” Dana went on to explain between puffs of breath over her wet nails.

  “Who are you kidding?” Belinda interrupted. “I could see the bedroom light was still on from under the door for most of the night. You’re still working.”

  “I could be talking to Kent.” Dana made a face.

  “Yeah, you could. But we all know that the CEO pos
ition doesn’t allow a complete shutdown. The job is like the offspring that never grows up and never goes away.” Belinda offered the bleak version of Dana’s accomplishment.

  “Excuse me, but I’m the one with the issues.” Fiona didn’t want to hear the battle of who got the best deal, between working for Meadows or striking out on her own. It was a no-win debate and they both knew it. Dana’s passion was born and bred at Meadows Media. Belinda’s passion came out of a terrible accident. In Fiona’s estimation, they had both lucked out with following their hearts.

  “Sorry, Fiona. Did you ever think that maybe Grace is sick?” Belinda said softly, as if the very suggestion was taboo.

  “Or maybe my mother?” Fiona wondered if that was why Verona looked as if she was barely holding on, as if any one thing could trigger a blowup.

  “I say we bum-rush Grandpa.” Dana clapped her hands, still careful with the nails.

  Belinda chimed in, “Now, that sounds like a plan. When and where?”

  “Let’s kidnap him and take him into town. Tomorrow at ten. Grace will be with Leo.” Fiona was down for a little guerrilla warfare.

  “All in?” Dana asked.

  “Always,” Belinda and Fiona responded together.

  From below, under Fiona’s window, voices wafted up to her lookout point. She signaled to her cousins to stop talking. They hurried over to her spot and huddled around her to see and hear what was going on.

  Fiona whispered, with her forehead pressed against the window, “It’s my mother.”

  “Ours, too. They’re all huddled together.” Belinda joined her with her forehead also smashed against the glass.

  “Open this window.” Dana’s frustration matched Fiona’s.

  Fiona fiddled with the stubborn window latch. “Damn, it’s stuck. I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

  “Oh, wait...they’re hugging. Good grief, are they crying? I haven’t seen our mothers do anything together in years.” For the first time, Belinda sounded worried.

  “They are getting into Aunt Verona’s car,” Dana announced, as if they couldn’t see the activity.

  “Wait.” Fiona shifted to kneeling on the window seat. “Leo just left. He’s walking toward the guesthouse.”

  “Yeah, but I think your mother may run him down first.” Dana snorted.

  Fiona pushed aside her cousins and hightailed it out of her room. Not until she was halfway down the stairs did she notice her bare feet. But she wasn’t about to waste time running back up to get her sandals. She had a bigger mission. Saving Leo from her mother.

  Her feet hit the marbled floor and she didn’t slow down until she yanked open the front door. Her mother’s car had pulled up alongside Leo. From Verona’s expression, Fiona was sure that the one-sided conversation wasn’t her mother being complimentary.

  “Leo. Oh, good—glad that I didn’t miss you for lunch.” She stepped in and hooked her hand through his arm.

  He looked at her and then down at her feet.

  “I’m hungry. Are you going to fix me that meal you promised? Now?” Fiona ignored the sharp pebbles digging into her feet.

  “Um...that was going to be a dinner invite.” He looked uncomfortable with the riveted audience in the car.

  “Lunch. Dinner. Doesn’t matter.” While her intent had been to rescue him from her mother’s wrath, she was sounding desperate.

  “Verona, let’s go. We’ll miss our reservation.” Belinda’s mother waved at them. Elaine tossed them an apologetic smile, while Verona drove off without changing her expression of distaste at Leo. Fiona didn’t exhale until the car disappeared down the driveway.

  “Well, aren’t you just the bohemian? Nice change.” Leo’s chuckle had her smiling.

  Fiona removed her hand from his arm. “Yes, well. Figured you shouldn’t get your head ripped off by my mother or aunts as I watch.” Fiona turned to head back into the house.

  “Does this mean that, now they’re gone, I have to eat alone?”

  “I’m sure lunch is about to be served here.” She gestured with her thumb at the house. “I don’t want to force you into feeding me.”

  “Force me? I’d be happy to feed you and watch you eat. I’ve got mad cooking skills. And if it isn’t good enough, I’m sure Mrs. Finch will take care of my deficiencies with a meal upon your request.”

  “Don’t have to invite me twice. Okay, let’s go.” The first step had Fiona wincing. The second step, Fiona howled.

  “I’ll wait for you to get your shoes.” He shook his head at her wounded feet.

  “Stop fussing. I can do this and walk to the guesthouse.”

  “A country girl, you are not.” He squatted in front of her. “Hop on. You weigh as much as a twig anyway. Let’s go, Lula Mae, the wannabe country girl.”

  Fiona couldn’t believe she was doing this, but that didn’t stop her from climbing onto Leo’s back. Once settled, she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. His arms easily supported her legs before he rose with her in one fluid movement.

  A dull cheer from above let her know that her cousins had witnessed the entire minidrama.

  Chapter 6

  Fiona walked with Leo, or more accurately, he carried her to the guesthouse. Although she might not be the weight of a truck, she knew it was laborious to walk on the graveled driveway in dress clothes with her body sealed against his back. She’d save her conversations for when they were at his house. Maybe she’d be coherent after the sensations now present in her sex, which was pressed and rubbing against Leo’s back, subsided after the exquisite stimulation.

  He unknowingly stretched out the torture by not lowering her to solid ground until he took her into the living room. Then she slid off, aroused and barely in control enough to stand, and had to pretend nothing extraordinary was going on all over her body and especially between her legs.

  “Water, wine, beer...?” He ambled to the kitchen.

  “You’re quite stocked.”

  “Most of this was here. Mrs. Finch gave me the green light to use whatever I wanted.”

  “I’ll take water.” Fiona was parched.

  He poured a glass of water from a filtered pitcher and handed it to her. She gratefully accepted it to soothe her dry throat. The only part of her body that was soothed.

  “Take a seat at the counter. I’ll fix you a delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he said.

  “Yummy.”

  “And it looks as if Mrs. Finch dropped off a freshly baked loaf of apple-cinnamon bread and a pan of brownies.”

  “The brownies win and they smell divine. How about we start with them?”

  “Nope. No desserts before the meal.” He pulled the pan out of reach. “Go wash up. Bathroom is that way.” He laughed. “Oh yeah, you already know the layout.”

  Fiona headed to the bathroom, but she was also planning to peek into the bedroom as she walked past it. She paused in the doorway. Everything was neat and in its place. Nothing there had changed. He was neat. She wasn’t.

  She stood at the sink, looking at her reflection. Maybe she should have put on a touch of makeup. She scrutinized every angle of her face, noticing all the imperfections. After washing her hands and drying them, she fluffed out her hair. That was about all she could do to feel pretty.

  By the time she’d returned to the kitchen, the sandwich was ready with a diagonal cut separating the two halves.

  “Potato chips or cheese curls?” He pointed to the goodies.

  “I’ll take the chips. Please don’t tell me that you’re not eating.”

  “Made myself a protein shake.” He held up his glass of thick liquid.

  “You already look fine. All that major jogging is unnecessary.”

  “You saw me jogging this morning?”

  She shrugged
. Busted.

  “I have to look my best.”

  “For whom?” Fiona didn’t care if she sounded possessive.

  “Any eligible bachelorettes out there.”

  Fiona choked on her sandwich. “Were there many of these eligible...?”

  He nodded, then sipped on his concoction.

  “Liar!” For a second, jealousy hit her in the chest. Its claws squeezed the air out of her lungs. But he’d never been the type to string along the ladies. She had to admit, however, that he’d aged well, filled out the muscles, and he still kissed like a badass rock star. Was he now sexy-nerd-turned-playboy?

  “Do you want me to name them all?”

  She sipped her water, looking at him over the rim. Time to weigh his guilt or innocence. She’d done her fair share of interrogations. “Go on, amuse me. Alphabetical order.”

  He grinned. “Aubergine. Berry. Cauli. Dasheen.”

  “Hold up. Cauli?” Fiona laughed and kept eating. “I almost got jealous.”

  “Almost?”

  “See, you didn’t think that I know my fruits and veggies. Cauli, indeed.” She snorted.

  “Now I feel you’re making fun of my women.”

  “My bad. So Cauli gave you what you needed?”

  “And then some.” He tipped his head back and finished his drink, smacking his lips.

  “That would be a shame if you were hooked only on veggies.”

  “Cauliflower was good for my soul.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. “No, she wasn’t. I was.” She kissed him again. “I still am.”

  “Is this a hostile takeover?”

  “You betcha.” She pulled off her shirt and tossed it aside. “How long is your lunch break?”

  “Long enough.” He hadn’t moved from around the counter. “That is, if I wasn’t planning on a lunchtime diversion.”