“You got me.” Tyler said. “You and Dan need to talk this over, Bex, but anything else, call me and I got your back. Agreed?”
“Yes.” I ended my monosyllabic response with a little hiss. There wasn’t much he could do or say to make me feel better. I admired the white and pink tulip arrangement Dan had left next to the note. They were beautiful. Lisa, Mom, and Greg coming back into my life, plus the woman claiming a love child, had gotten to me, yet I’d had a wonderful night. For the first time in weeks, I hadn’t tossed and turned.
I finished my milk and rummaged through the fridge, looking for ingredients to make an omelet, while Ty and I talked about Mom and his dad. While I cradled the phone between my ear and my shoulder, I heated a pan, cracked a couple of eggs, and added some leftover veggies to it. Breakfast and lunch in one were ready, while he explained me about Greg’s request to see his grandchildren.
“Dad’s working toward a relationship, but I don’t want to involve my children. Perhaps in the future, when we’ve settled our differences, but I don’t know. Your mom is obsessed with my family and me. I’m not her son. She should worry about you….” He sighed, frustrated. “Am I cruel?”
“No,” I answered automatically, eating a bite of my brunch. “I think you and Mom maybe saw each other twice before your sister died? There wasn’t a relationship to begin with.”
Finishing the last bite of my eggs, I placed the plate on the sink and went to the living room to continue my conversation. It was the first time Ty and I talked over the phone that wasn’t work related. “If you want my opinion, then go with your gut. Involving the children at this stage might be harmful for them—especially Mattie.”
At such a tender age, he might get attached to the man, and how would we explain his grandfather’s behavior or his mood swings? In my experience Greg could be yelling and screaming for no reason one minute, and then smiling and calm the next.
“I’ll follow your advice.” Tyler wound down the conversation. “Call me tonight after your dinner and pseudo-family reunion. But listen, whatever Donna tells you, you didn’t do it. Please, ignore her and walk away.”
* * * * *
“Do you know someone who owns a dark gray Lexus SUV?” Connor checked his rearview mirror. “I swear it’s been following us for the past twenty minutes.”
Probably. I said I would drive myself, but you ignored me. Dan wouldn’t let me come alone. You don’t know him; he’s impossible.
I shrugged, and continued reading to Ryan. I’d bought him a bunch of books. We’d bonded through ‘If you give a mouse a cookie.’ Before Connor interrupted, we’d discovered a worm whose best friend was a spider. The forty five minute drive from my house to the Patrick’s gave me enough time to read four books. Once the car stopped, my chest constricted, and I couldn’t continue reading.
“Ready?” Connor opened the car door and extended his hand to help me. “Mom’s waiting. She’s excited about seeing you again.”
I followed Connor’s eyes. The Lexus SUV had parked behind Connor’s, and Nick leaned against the car, arms and legs crossed. His presence commanded authority. The laid-back man I’d met in Aspen had disappeared.
“What happened to the other guard?” Connor asked, and I wondered the same.
I shrugged again, and grabbed Ryan’s hand, nodding at Nick. For the third time, I tried regulating my breathing, and finally managed to stabilize my heartbeat while we walked towards the house. The front door opened and Mr. Patrick received us with a smile. He hugged me first then picked up Ryan.
“Grandpa, look at the books she bought me.” Ryan pointed at me, and Mr. Patrick grinned at him as Ryan chatted with him.
Mrs. Patrick poked her head out of the kitchen. “Get comfortable. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The second floor of the house was only part of the remodeling they’d done. Hardwood floors replaced the tan carpet that had once covered the entire residence. The brick fireplace had disappeared, and a modern gas model had taken its place. To give myself something to do, I walked over to the mahogany bookcase and casually scanned the framed photos on top.
The first picture on the right side showed baby Ian sitting next to Connor. I turned to see Ryan, who sat on the floor looking at his books. He was their spitting image. Next there was a picture of Connor climbing my tree house, Ian following him. Before grandma died, the three of us lived in that small house during summers and weekends. My heart palpitated with the next picture, the one grandma took of us at the aquarium. Ian and I were five, Connor six. Though the background and the boys looked the same, my head, though, had been cut off. It frightened and pained me to see that each subsequent picture I had taken part of had been ripped, cut, or destroyed in some way. Erasing me from their lives, as if I had never existed.
Connor’s eyes widened at the sight, and without a word, he took me over the dining room, where his father was setting the table along with Ryan. “Becca, Connor tells me you work for a non-profit organization.”
My voice had disappeared, but I managed to nod and smile. Somehow.
“I’m proud of you, girl. You always had a rough time.” Mrs. Patrick came from the kitchen carrying a casserole to the table. After placing it, Mr. Patrick patted her hand. “Izzy and I worried when your grandma died. Thankfully, everything worked out for you. Isn’t that right, honey?”
“Yes. Wonderful.” She forced a smile, fixing her blond hair.
Did she get plastic surgery? Her green eyes fixated on me, threatening to jump out of their sockets. For a sixty-some-year-old woman, her skin was too tight, and not one wrinkle showed around her eyes.
Pushed by my good manners, and the love I had for her, I stood up and went to hug her lightly with hopes of breaking the ice. I didn’t get much response, only a cold pat on the back.
“You’re beautiful, dear. A little skinny, but we’ll take care of you. Now please, help yourselves.”
The whole affair went from strange to awkward. They asked me questions about my life—mostly college and my current job. Where I lived, and if I had a boyfriend. I brushed them off by turning the conversation onto Connor and what he did for a living.
Around six thirty, Ryan yawned, reminding me that Mom was waiting—a handy, and valid reason to get the heck out of there. Also, the faster I confronted the people next door, the sooner I’d be home. I excused myself, and Connor offered to accompany me while Ry stayed.
“Did he work as a queen’s guard?” Connor pointed to Nick, who hadn’t moved since we’d arrived an hour or so ago.
I shook my head, and wondered if I had a listening device on me.
“I’ll drive you home.” He tilted towards Nick. “Even though G.I. Joe is here.” I nodded, and continued my walk to the dragon’s lair.
Before we got the chance to knock on the door, Greg opened it. “Finally, Donna’s bed time is at seven.” I ignored his temper and entered the house.
“Martha Stewart, Arizona style?” Connor whispered when he drank in the decorations. I held a chuckle.
She sat on an orange couch, her frail body covered by a colorful blanket. She wore a navy headscarf that accentuated her blue eyes.
“Mother,” I said, in a cold tone I would never have recognized. “Lovely to see you. How are you feeling today?”
Her gaze avoided me. “Rebecca. It’s nice of you to grace us with your presence.”
“I’m doing well, thank you for asking.” Greg cleared his throat, pointing to the clock on the wall and making a hand gesture to cut it off. Was my time up, or did I upset her?
It was a short visit, a pointless drive, but I'd rather leave now, than stay, before she got some energy to insult me.
“You seem tired. I’ll be here next Sunday around ten in the morning. I trust you’ll feel better during my next visit.”
“Never,” she answered in strange, raspy voice. “Murderer!”
Before retaliating, I bit my lip, calming my breath, and told myself she was wrong. Or what is it that Da
n said? Yes, don’t listen to Donna. Still, the pit of my stomach hurt like it had been punched. “Well, that took you all of five minutes, Mother. Let’s try for twenty next time.” I gave her another glance before turning towards her husband. “Greg, a pleasure as always. Dan sends his best.”
Connor followed me out the door. He didn’t mention the painful situation, nor did he try to comfort me.
“It’s getting late.” I said to Connor, once we were outside and walking towards his parents. “Mind if I have Nick drive me home?”
“Rebecca.” He came to a halt and touched my arm. “Let me be there for you.”
“Some other time, Connor.” I stood up on my tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “This,” I said pointing to Mom’s place, his parents, and him, “was too much. As much as I would love to share a drive with Ryan, I can’t. Sorry.” Waving to him, I walked towards Nick.
“Hey, Nick. Mind if I take a ride with you?” He shook his head, opened the back door, and helped me get inside.
My phone rang five minutes after Nick had dropped me home, and Dan’s silly self-taken photo and phone number appeared.
“Hi, baby,” he said, before I got a chance to answer. “How are you?”
“Better.” I smiled at the phone after I heard his voice. “Now that you called me. Tell me about Tokyo, Danny.”
“You’d love it. The Cherry Blossoms are blooming. Everything is pink.”
Dan understood I didn’t want to talk about my visit with the Patricks and Mom. Instead he talked with me for a few hours about Tokyo, his flight, and how Tyler and Ash almost killed him for arriving at five in the morning without an invitation. Light, uncomplicated, and what I needed for the night: Dan and Becca without the outside world.
Chapter 13
“Let’s go shopping,” Ava said over the phone. “I have a hot date this weekend, and I swear he’s the one.”
Ava and I hadn’t spoken since the infamous AGNO. Did I really want to shop with her?
“Stop overthinking.” She drew back my attention. “I won’t take no for an answer. Your obligation as a friend is to endure my shopaholic attacks. Save me money.”
To shut her up, I agreed to meet her at Chestnut Hill Mall in front of Bloomies. I had work to do; the annual gala dinner to raise funds for the Brightmore Foundation was approaching fast. Steve and I needed to finish fine-tuning the guest list before I left for the day.
To: Tyler Sanders, D Brightmore
From: Rebecca Trent
Subject: Guest list
I’m attaching the guest list for the gala dinner fundraiser. Please send any additions or corrections at your earliest convenience. We’re planning on mailing the invitations in three weeks. The website for this year’s silent auction will be up the same day we send them. Except for the invitations, everything else has been digitized.
Mr. Brightmore, regarding the color change: I regret to inform you that everything has been ordered and designed based on the theme we chose. (And, more importantly, I love them). Next time you give carte blanche, please remember colors aren’t subject to change when you discover pink is involved.
Sincerely,
Rebecca Trent
Director
Brightmore Foundation
To: Tyler Sanders, Rebecca Trent
From: D Brightmore
Re: Pink guest list… for real?
I have no doubt you’re enamored with the theme and colors. Was it necessary to send me the list with pink font?
I am going to add a few guests. After you merge Sanders’s and mine, please email it again for a final approval.
Sanders, make sure your team doesn’t include girly colors for next year’s gala dinner, or Matthew and Angie might end up fatherless.
D
To: Rebecca Trent, D Brightmore
From: Tyler Sanders
Re: Ha, ha… Becca suggests various colors before we create themes.
Your future is pink, Brightmore.
Tyler Sanders
Innocent non-color picker
Brightmore Foundation
I decided to change email accounts, to avoid the IT department snooping into our personal exchange.
To: Ty, Dan
From: Bex
Subject: Stop bickering like little girls
Ty, per Dan’s request, next year’s gala shall be black and pink. Any changes to the colors and… OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!
Dan… I’ll pink your house if you keep whining. In fact, I’ll start with your office. And when you have children, I’ll make sure your daughter’s closets are full of pink clothes.
Now, I’m going to Bloomies, where I’ll buy a pair of pink pants and shoes to go with them.
Receive pink kisses xox
To: Dan, Bex
From: Ty
RE: Bex, honey, you’re killing me here.
I can’t stop laughing. Dan, she might dress your sons in pink if you’re not careful. I’d pay to see that. Dude, you’re doomed.
To: Ty, Bex
From: Dan
RE: I give up on you two.
I’m in the middle of a meeting. People won’t sell me their companies if I’m laughing. Ty, I’ll call tonight. We have a few press releases to put together to announce the new purchases and mergers.
Baby, keep your pink away from my office, and have fun pinking yourself at the mall.
D
* * * * *
“You need a mini-makeover.” Ava grabbed a few blond hair extensions from a kiosk and clipped them over my hair. “My stylist is fabulous. She can reinvent you.”
Ava and I had a different take on fabulous. I liked conservative, modern clothes, while hers screamed look at me. A few minutes ago she’d bought a black micro-mini that barely covered her butt.
My pastel pink Capri pants made her gag and yell in the middle of the store, “You dress like a nun.”
I owned a couple of cute mini-skirts, but they were longer than her barely-there skirts. Her tight skinny jeans, barely visible blouses, and t-shirts were the opposite of my baggy clothes. I had high heels, too, and flats and every kind of shoe available to womankind—they’re my fetish. Ava wore too much make up, and showed too much cleavage. She’d added two cup sizes to her former Bs. Flats for her were a pair of two-inch heels. I could only imagine what her mini-intervention would imply. Blond hair, color contacts, and…. I’d die.
“Where did you meet the new beau?” I smiled at the clerk, and returned the hair extensions Ava had taken. The sweet lady nodded at me. Ava and I moved on from the kiosk.
Ava tried to walk toward Sephora, but I kept moving. I wanted to buy a couple of dresses from Brook Brothers, along with a cardigan I’d seen online. After my leg accident, I decided to increase the number of skirts and dresses—they weren’t so bad.
“Yawn, boring.” She clenched her teeth when I picked a peach trench coat that matched my new shoes. “My cousin introduced me to him.” I turned back at her, frowning. I had no idea what she was talking about. “My date,” Ava responded to my questioning eyes. “He moved to Boston a couple of weeks ago and needs friends. You should come out with us. I can hook you up with a friend of my cousin.”
“I have a crazy weekend planned.” I gave my items to the sales associate. “The gala dinner will be here soon, and I’m not ready. And I’m visiting Mom over the weekend, too.”
“Your Mom? Since when?” Great. Avoiding her pursuit of partying had backfired. I never talked about my family. She narrowed her eyes for a second, and then opened them wide as saucers. “Right, you’re Tyler’s step sister, I always forget. She’s dying, right?”
“Who told you?” My eyes came out of their sockets and bounced three times.
“Ashley told… someone, who told someone else.”
Of course Ashley, she tells everything to everyone. “Yep, she’s sick. Lung cancer. Shall we get dinner?” I changed the subject and the route. Ava was the last person I wanted to discuss my family with.
We stopped at a restaurant close to Macy’s for dinner. Among other things, we discussed the gala, her job, and her apartment. Then she came up with the idea of an all-girl vacation. I humored her, but someone needed to point out to her that we had a hard enough time getting everyone together for a night out.
“Cancun would be exciting,” she said. “Daniel has a house there, doesn’t he?”
“Not that I’m aware.” What the heck? Her self-entitled attitude irked me. Why was she planning a vacation around Dan’s properties?
“Oh well, we can find out where he can send us.”
I don’t think so, I wanted to say. For the remainder of dinner I kept my mouth clamped and listened to her insensate blabbing.
When we asked for the check, the waiter announced that someone had already paid for it. Nick? Bryan? It had become a pattern to have one of them babysitting me at all times. We left the restaurant, and Nick was my sitter for the night.
“He’s hotter than Blondie. If he wasn’t the help, I’d do him.” She winked at him.
“He isn’t the help, Ava. He works for the company, and at this point, he’s practically part of the family. But you still can’t do him.”
“Don’t get prissy.” She flapped her hand—or waved. “Bye, Becca. Call me if you want to come over this weekend.”
I followed Nick to the car; the dark gray Lexus SUV he drove yesterday stood in front of us. Nick opened the door for me, and for the first time, I noticed the new-car smell; it overwhelmed my senses. The equipment the little SUV held blew my mind—state of the art. Where was the Rover?
Right when Nick parked the car, my phone rang. Connor’s name, along with Ryan’s picture, appeared on the screen. To answer, or not to answer…. I ignored it, sending him to voicemail. Right after, Tyler called me. I ignored him as well.
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