All I Ever Wanted: Of Love and Madness, Book Three

by Cimms, Karen

  With more effort than normally required, she hoisted herself up the stairs and followed the aroma of roasting turkey. She rarely ate meat. Today she would make an exception.

  She found her mother in the kitchen rinsing cranberries.

  “Morning,” Rhiannon mumbled.

  “Morning. How did you sleep?”

  “Good.” It was an honest answer, despite waking up with a hangover. “Is there coffee?”

  “I can make a fresh pot if you’d like, or you can use the Keurig if you don’t want to wait.”

  “Keurig.”

  “There’s aspirin in the cabinet next to the refrigerator, and there’s a mug for you by the sugar bowl.”

  Rhiannon slipped a K-cup into the Keurig and set the mug in place. She cleared her throat. “Is there anything you’d like me to do before I go run?”

  The smile her mother gave her was tentative but genuine. “No, we’re all set. Devin’s in his room. I think he wants to go for a run, but he’s waiting for you. Daddy took Doug and the twins to show them the boats in the marina.”

  Rhiannon reached for the half and half. Why not? Her diet was shot to hell anyway. She watched her mother bustle around the kitchen. Other than the sound of soft jazz coming from the other room, the house was quiet. Too quiet.

  “Mom?” she asked hesitantly. “Did Charlie die?”

  “Charlie? Oh, no. He’s with Daddy and the boys. He was over at the neighbors’ yesterday until everyone could get settled.”

  “So has he calmed down any?”

  Her mother laughed, but the sound was thin, tenuous. “Hardly. Although he is better behaved when your father’s around.”

  Rhiannon felt a pang of guilt. Her mother seemed so nervous, as if she were weighing every word before she spoke. She was trying, but it was hard. If Devin hadn’t gotten her drunk last night and told her all of their parents’ deep, dark secrets, she’d be home by now. Home, and probably feeling guilty.

  Her mother pulled her hands from the sink, and a sparkle caught Rhiannon’s eye. “Holy shit!” She launched herself across the kitchen and grabbed her mother’s hand. “Wow!”

  A smile spread across her mother’s face—a real one, this time. “Do you like it? Daddy gave it to me a couple of weeks ago. He took me back to the motel where we—kind of where we, um. It was our anniversary. Sort of.”

  Rhiannon laughed. Some of the tension from earlier eased. “I was born five months after you got married. I figured out a long time ago you weren’t a virgin.”

  Her mother was actually blushing. “No, not really.”

  “It’s beautiful.” As her mother continued to beam at the ring, she felt her heart give a little.

  “Your father was afraid I wouldn’t like it, since it’s so over the top, but I love it.”

  “You know me,” she gushed. “Big fan of over the top. I guess I get that from him.”

  Her mother wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Do you want some breakfast?”

  Rhiannon shook her head. “I’m still full from last night. I ate a whole lobster and about a pound of butter. I need to go run it off or I won’t be able to eat dinner.”

  Devin strolled in, pulling on a knit cap and gloves. “About time you got up. You ready?”

  “I need coffee first.”

  “I’ve been waiting an hour and a half. You can have coffee when you get back. There are no bathrooms where we’re going, so no coffee.”

  “Devin,” she growled.

  “Now! Let’s go.”

  With a longing glance at her unfilled mug, she followed him into the foyer.

  He opened the door and looked back at their mother. “Be back in a bit.”

  She wasn’t positive, but she was pretty sure the brat winked.

  Chapter Sixty

  Thanksgiving dinner went well, Kate thought, happy to have been able to use the dining room table and the extensions. Ten months ago, she had believed she would never have that opportunity again. The twins were downstairs watching Nick Jr. Billy was stoking the fire in the living room, while Doug savored a glass of fine port and Kate sipped decaf. Devin and Rhiannon, still fighting the remnants of a hangover, continued to rehydrate with water.

  Billy perched on the arm of the leather chair beside her and slipped his arm around her shoulders. Despite the underlying tension between Rhiannon and just about everyone, especially Kate, there were things that needed to be said.

  She cleared her throat. “Since we’re all here, there are a few things your father and I need to discuss with you.” The weight of Billy’s hand on her back was comforting. While there was only one thing really to be nervous about, it helped to know he had her back—literally.

  “When Uncle Joey died, he left me everything: the business, his property, his bank accounts, all of it. I knew he was successful, but I didn’t have a clue as to how successful.” She glanced up at Billy. “Maybe I should back up a bit.”

  He nodded.

  “About two years before he died, Joey bought this house and had it renovated and decorated for me, right down to the books on the shelves. It was a gift he wanted me to have, but since he knew I would refuse it, he was a bit secretive about it. Seems I have a bad habit of signing what people tell me to sign without reading the fine print—or any of the print, actually. Joey said Tommy had papers for me to sign with regard to the business, which we all know I had some stock in. I signed what he gave me without a second thought.”

  Tom or Joey would never have handed her anything that would have brought her harm, but that didn’t stop Doug from looking ready to comment. She cut him off before he could say a word. “This is my house. It’s paid for, and the taxes and maintenance are covered under some type of trust that’s too legal and boring for anyone but Doug.” She smiled at her son-in-law. “And before you ask, I have a copy of the documents for you to dissect to your heart’s content. I promise.”

  Doug’s expression gave away nothing, but she knew he’d want to look sooner rather than later.

  “After Joey died, Tommy tried to tell me about the house and the will, but I wasn’t interested in any of it, and he didn’t push me. He’s been taking care of everything, even though he was hurting as much as I was. More, actually.”

  “So this house is yours?” Devin asked. “Free and clear?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t left to me in the will. It was already mine.”

  “What are you going to do with it?” Rhiannon asked.

  “We’re going to live in it,” Billy answered. “We’ve discussed it, and this is where we want to live.”

  The tick of the grandfather clock echoed in the dining room, and the sound of the twins’ laughter downstairs seemed loud in the awkward silence.

  “What? Why?” Devin lurched forward. “I thought you’d be coming home now.”

  Rhiannon didn’t say anything. She sat quietly, looking gobsmacked.

  “I know this is a lot all at once, especially for Rhiannon, and I’m sorry,” Kate said. “But I can’t go back to Belleville. I have a lot of wonderful memories there. Unfortunately, there are bad memories too. It’s too much for me. Please try to understand.”

  “I get it.” Rhiannon addressed Devin. “Think about it. Do you ever walk into the music room without imagining Daddy on the floor? I can’t go upstairs without picturing—” She glanced at Kate. “I get it.”

  “What are you going to do with the house?” Devin asked.

  “Sell it, I guess,” Kate said, looking at Billy. “We don’t have to do it right away, though. Not until you’re finished with grad school.”

  She slid to the edge of her seat. “Which brings me to the rest of our little family meeting.”

  She focused on the anxious faces of her children.

  “Although Joey left everything to me, Tommy has shared with me some suggestions on how Joey wanted things managed. Surprise, surprise.”

  She smiled. Though Joey might be gone, no one had forgotten his larger-than-life personality or the way he love
d to take charge.

  “Devin, Joey knew how much you enjoyed working with children, especially troubled kids. He wanted you to have enough money to finish grad school and even get your PhD in child psychology if you want. Tom tells me that would’ve been your graduation gift. The money is there for you if you want it.”

  Devin seemed too shocked to say anything, but she was almost certain he would go for a doctorate once he’d thought it over. She hoped he would.

  “Rhiannon, what Joey wanted for you might be a bit more difficult, but it’s doable, providing you get the support you need at home.”

  Rhiannon looked at Doug, then back at her mother.

  “He always hoped that someday you’d work with him. We all know he didn’t hide those feelings when you announced you were getting married while you were still in school.”

  Rhiannon laughed. “No, he did not.”

  “It’s not too late,” Kate said. “He hoped you’d go back to school eventually—well, not just to school, but to FIT for a master’s in fashion management. You’ll have to go to work with Tom for a couple of years before you can get into the program, but eventually, if all goes well, Joey believed—and your father, Tommy, and I believe as well—that one day you might be able to run the business.”

  Rhiannon’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “Holy shit,” Devin muttered under his breath, which earned him dirty looks from his mother, father, and sister.

  Doug, however, seemed to concur with Devin’s assessment. “How?”

  “We have the loft in Tribeca,” Kate said. “She could use that when she wanted to stay in the city instead of commuting. I’m not suggesting that Rhiannon live there and Doug live at home—I’m not suggesting that at all—but there are ways to make it work if you want to. It’s a lot to think about, and you don’t need to make a decision right away. Tommy’s running the day-to-day operations. He knows what he’s doing, and I trust him to do it. Neither of us wants to see Joey’s legacy fail, and I’m certainly not equipped to manage it. I’ll do what’s required of me, but there are other things I need to do as well.”

  She laced her fingers with Billy’s.

  “Give it some thought. You and Doug talk. Figure out what you want to do. You don’t have to go back to school right away. You can go to work with Tommy and maybe in a few years, after the boys start kindergarten . . . Whatever you decide, we’ll make it work.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Early Saturday evening, Kate ran through her mental checklist for the benefit. Again. Billy and C.J. had handled the performance and everything related to it, but the reception and meet and greet were all on her.

  The gallery where the reception would be held looked beautiful. An exhibit of watercolor and pastel seascapes by a collective of Maine artists hung on the walls. After Billy had negotiated the purchase of one of her favorites, the gallery owner had donated the use of the space for the concert. High bar tables draped in autumn hues had been rented to accommodate the guests, and trays of hors d’oeuvres would be passed by resource center workers who had volunteered to serve as waiters.

  Almost all of the food had been donated or sold to them at cost. Samatar had taken over the small kitchen at the gallery and was thrilled at the chance to flex his culinary muscles. He spent the better part of the day preparing fresh shrimp to be served on shaved ice, lobster thermidor in puff pastry cups, mini quiches, tiny flatbread pizzas with roasted garlic jam and blue cheese, small cups of butternut squash soup, and as a concession to the young people who would be attending, hamburger sliders with homemade pickles and ketchup. A cheese board anchored the center of the room near an enormous cornucopia Kate had decorated with fruits, nuts, gourds, and pumpkins.

  “Wow.”

  Billy stood before her, looking pretty “wow” himself. Her heart did a little dance. He wore a black suit with a black button-down shirt, and his hair hung loose over his shoulders. He was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  “You look great,” she said.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “You think?” She rested her hand on her hip, then did a full three-sixty. Her black velvet dress was short and formfitting, with ruched sides and a crisscross of satin ribbon over an inset of black and silver lace. The squared bodice was cut into a deep V in the center and stiffened to stand up. She gave it a tug. “Is it too low? I don’t want to fall out.”

  Billy peeked into her décolleté and raised his hands. “No offense—and you know I adore your breasts, I worship them—but you’d need a little more than that to be in any danger of falling out of your dress.”

  She gave him a swat. “Yeah, but still.”

  “So are you ready?”

  “Me? Are you ready?”

  “I’m always ready.”

  She made a face. “Wait. What are we talking about?”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  She slapped him again, playfully, although her face turned pink. “That’s not what I meant—although . . .” She slipped her hands around his waist, tilted her face up, and rested her chin against his chest.

  He brushed his lips over her forehead. “This is all you, you know. All this here tonight, it’s all because of you.”

  “It was your idea.”

  “Because of you. You helped me see past the tip of my nose, Katie. You helped me see beyond myself.”

  She swallowed, afraid if she tried to speak, she’d end up crying.

  “You okay?”

  “I am.” She smiled gamely. “How’re the kids doing?”

  Billy’s music students from the resource center were scheduled to perform one of the songs he had taught them.

  “They’ll be fine. I gave them the ‘picture everybody naked’ speech. They liked that.”

  She rolled her eyes and laughed, but the tops of her ears were beginning to warm from the way he was looking at her. “You’re picturing me naked, aren’t you?”

  He ran his teeth along the curve of her neck.

  “Always.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  The house lights dropped. When they came up again, her father stood center stage, bathed in a single blue light. It only took a few seconds for the boys to recognize him, but when they did, the house was quiet enough that when Dalton yelled “Poppy,” everyone, including her father, heard him.

  He leaned into the mic. “Hey, buddy!”

  A general titter ran through the crowd. Some people applauded. Doug grimaced.

  “No talking!” Rhiannon whispered into her son’s ear. “You have to be quiet or we’ll have to go home.”

  He nodded solemnly and settled on her lap. For the better part of the concert, he mirrored his brother’s enthralled expression. When the audience applauded and cheered, the twins did too, with gusto.

  As the concert wound down, her father switched out his Stratocaster for an acoustic guitar. After strapping it on, he stood in front of the mic and gazed out over the appreciative audience.

  “The people you’re going to meet next are part of the reason we’re putting on this performance. I only met them about seven or eight weeks ago, and in that time, they’ve learned to play some instruments and sing, and it makes me really happy to show them off tonight. I’m going to give them a little bit of help, but it’s mostly them.”

  Nine young teenagers filed onto the stage to thunderous applause. Some walked with a cocky swagger. Some were prodded on by the kid behind them. They looked nervous, but by the time the audience settled down, the smiles on their faces couldn’t have been any wider. They performed a song by Gotye, with her father singing the lead opposite a teen decked out like a younger version of Janelle Monáe. Three other girls were singing backup, two boys played guitar, another one bass, one on keyboard, and another girl on drums. It was far from the best version she’d ever heard, but it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. The audience must have agreed. When the song ended, the response was en
thusiastic. It was a good feeling, not only for the kids’ sake, but for her parents’ as well.

  Grinning and waving, the young musicians took their bows and dispersed, leaving her father alone on the empty stage. He waited for the hall to quiet down before he began to speak.

  “There are a lot of folks to thank tonight: everyone at the Portland Resource Center, all of the individuals and businesses that donated food and drinks, my band—who did not get paid—and my record label, which covered all of their expenses and then some.” He beamed out at the audience. “And all of you for coming. It means a lot to me. It also means a lot to someone I want you to meet. She’s the impetus behind all of this. She has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known, although she’s kind of a thief. She stole my heart twenty-five years ago, and she never gave it back. Ladies and gentlemen, my wife, Katie.”

  Dayton and Dalton clapped their pudgy hands and cheered. Rhiannon let loose an ear-splitting whistle, silencing her boys as well as her brother and her husband, who gaped at her. Guess she surprised them. She whooped and pumped her fist in the air as her mother made her way onto the stage. Her father met her halfway, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and together they walked to the mic. For all her anger, resentment, and hurt, seeing them together on stage, so obviously in love, made her heart melt, along with what remained of the pain of the past year. And when her father called her mother “the love of my life,” she was pretty much a puddle.

  “We have one more song tonight, but before I get the band back out here, I want to tell you a little something about why what we’re doing here tonight is so important.” He looked at her mother. “You okay?” He spoke quietly, but his voice carried over the audio. She nodded, although she looked nervous.

  “My dad was a huge baseball fan,” he began. “So was I. In fact, I was a regular little Pedro Martinez.”

  Scattered cheers erupted at the name of the former Red Sox All-Star. Rhiannon stole a look at her brother. He looked as shell-shocked as she felt. It was the first time she’d ever heard their father mention his own father—and in front of several hundred strangers, no less.