“It’s the kind of place grad students with families would eat up,” Kim noted.
“The perfect demographic. I thought so too. Book clubs. And writers’ groups. This area has all kinds of local writers from historians to sci fi and romance. A decent-sized book shop would be the perfect gathering spot for them with the ambiance of quiet culture.”
“Any way to get them to budge?”
“You mean the Zoning Commission?” Alicia sent Kim a look that showed the unlikelihood of that possibility. “Not in this lifetime. The continuum of the town’s grand plan is sacrosanct. No one messes with it. Like season tickets at a Penn State game, the plans are written in stone. You bequeathe them to your children when all is said and done.”
Kim stared at her. “How on earth do you know anything about Penn State?”
Alicia turned back to the counter and foamed the heated milk/coffee/caramel combo. “Your father and I used to go.”
Kim sank back into her chair. “Really?”
“When we were dating.”
“Before Georgetown?”
“During.” She gave a quick nod, carefully not mentioning that Kim was conceived after a really good game. Double overtime. The Nittany Lions won on a forty-nine yard field goal and clinched their division. Conor’d been beyond happy. Way beyond. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of that night, of the law student that soon became her husband and the child they shared as a result. Good night, all in all.
Then.
“It’s hard to imagine you and Dad dating,” Kim admitted. She gave a sniff of approval as her mother brought the hot drink to the table.
“Because most of what you remember isn’t all that pleasant.” Alicia set down the twin mugs, added whipped cream and a swish of caramel drizzle, then sat beside her daughter. “But we were happy then.”
“So what ruined that?” Kim took a deep breath of the warm scents and settled back, her expression saying they needed to talk. “How do two people fall out of love? Was it because of Jonathan?”
Jonathan.
Alicia waited while her heart beat once. Twice. Three times. She usually avoided this topic at all costs. The pain of burying a small child, her only son, pierced on a regular basis despite the decade of time. He’d been a beautiful boy with Conor’s eyes set in her face. Nice combination. “That was part of it. And your father’s job. He was gone all the time with a whole separate life in New York. Eventually it became a life that didn’t include us.”
“But I remember he wanted us to come there,” Kim mused. She took a sip of her drink, blew the heat from the foam, and sipped again. “For weekends and stuff. Before you split up.”
Alicia shook her head. “That city is no place to raise two young, impressionable girls. I told him that, time and again, but he refused to listen.” She didn’t voice how hard it was to leave the church side graveyard, even for a weekend in New York. Who would tend Jon’s grave? Trim the flowers? Bleach the spot of stubborn mildew that persisted on the stone’s north side? No, those thoughts stayed buried. Tucked away. Safe. “Always so busy building business, eyeing the bottom line, making a name for himself.”
“A skill he’s very good at,” remarked her daughter.
“But we got lost in the shuffle, honey.” Alicia regarded her light-haired daughter and shrugged. “Listen, I’m glad you’re getting along with your dad now, that’s all well and good, but I’m not about to take the blame for his actions back then. He had a perfectly good family here in Princeton. He chose to wander. Not me.”
Kim sat slightly forward, eyes down, as though weighing her next thought. “Did you ever think it might have been hard for him to come back here after the funeral? That maybe it felt better, staying away? Not facing that stone marker, week after week?”
“And I could no more abandon my time with that stone marker than with the boy himself, so I guess I don’t understand those feelings.”
“Mom.” Kim paused and sighed. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m just trying to understand. Before Jon died were things okay? Were you happy?”
Alicia thought back and shrugged. “I wouldn’t go straight to happy. We had good times and bad. Fairly normal.”
“Did you ever want to have another baby? Try again?”
“To replace your brother?”
“No.” Kim shook her head, the Morrissey brow wrinkled anew. “Not replace him, but just to bring joy back into your lives?”
“Well, honey, if nothing else, I’ve taught you the birds and the bees.” Alicia gave her a frank look. “Your father would have had to come home now and again for that to happen, right?”
Kim squared her shoulders. “Or you could have gone there.”
Alicia stood, her pride dented enough for one day. “He’s done quite a number on you, Kimberly. Be sure to congratulate him for me.”
“Mom.”
Alicia raised a hand for quiet. “Enough. I don’t mind talking to you about things, but I don’t want to be blamed for choices I didn’t make.”
So. Kim didn’t buy into her reasoning any longer. Not totally, anyway. When had she grown up so thoroughly, turned into this strong, stalwart, sensible woman?
“All I’m saying is that there are two sides to a story, and part of healing is seeing both sides. Giving them weight.”
“So now you want me healed, huh?” Alicia angled Kim a look of exaggerated patience. “Will you psychoanalyze me forever, now that you have your degree, or can I come up for air from time to time? Draw a breath?”
Kim shook her head. “I’m not psycho-analyzing you, Mom, it’s just that Brian and I are talking about the future, about our lives, and I...” Her voice tapered, her look frustrated.
Kim, run! Run now! Run for your life, my blessed girl!
Alicia bit down hard to fight the urge to warn her beautiful daughter away from the young financial wizard who appeared to have won her heart. She’d acted crazed enough for one day. Pulling her emotions into a nice, tight ball, she blew out a breath. “You don’t want to make the same mistakes your father and I made.”
“In a nutshell. I’m just wondering if there’s some way to know if this is the real deal. If Brian and I have what it takes to make a go of things.”
Alicia grasped Kim’s hands. “Trust your heart, Kim.”
“Like you did?”
Alicia frowned and pondered the durability of anti-wrinkle cream on a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. She felt like her forehead had been knit since the afternoon mail delivery. She gave Kim’s hands a squeeze. “We loved each other then, Kim. What happened later...”
“Just happened.”
“Yes.”
“But—”
“Kim.” Alicia faced her head on, her voice flat and direct, wishing she could soften her tone, knowing she couldn’t. Something within snapped lean and raw whenever the subject of Conor and forever arose. “Love doesn’t come with return policies, or money back guarantees. It comes packed with questions and problems, life and death, a Pandora’s box, never knowing what might spring up next. It either lasts or it doesn’t.” She swung back to the counter, busying anxious hands by stowing away coffee clutter, something mundane and mindless to ease the inner ache, a pain she pretended didn’t exist until something dredged it back up, unexpected and unsought. “Ours didn’t.”
Chapter Two
Foster met Conor at the door, the quintessential butler’s loyal service totally unnecessary at this late hour and unbelievably welcome after Conor’s extended day of work and benefit appearances. He nodded toward the expansive living room as he accepted Conor’s coat and hat. “Miss Adelaide, sir.”
Addie? Today? Conor glared at his watch and frowned. “How long has she been here?”
“Since late afternoon.”
“And you didn’t call me?”
Foster inclined his chin, his appearance impeccable despite the hour, his gray hair in perfect array. “By her request, sir.” He indicated the sofa with a slight nod. “A bit
weary, I would say.”
Conor remembered his second year of law school. The competition, the push, the reading, studying, learning at the feet of some of the greatest barristers of current times. He distinctly remembered being tired. A smile tugged his left cheek as he crossed to the spacious room sporting a must-see view of New York by night and Central Park by day.
“That you, Daddy?” The fatigue in Addie’s voice took Conor back to a tumble-haired toddler clutching a pink satin blankie, huddled at the upper edge of the stairs, thumb in her mouth, waiting for her daddy to come home, then heading off to bed disappointed because business kept him in the city night after night. Moron.
“Yes.” Conor bit back words of self-reproach for then and now. “Sorry, Ads. I didn’t know you were here or I’d have come home earlier. And I’d have come in more quietly if I’d realized you were camped on the couch. Why didn’t you call me? Let me know?”
“Figured you must be busy. You weren’t exactly expecting me and I didn’t want to interrupt your plans.”
“Considerate.”
“Or a total suck up.” The admission made her twinkle up at him. “It is close to Christmas, after all.”
Her honest response drew his grin. The light from the foyer backlit her answering smile, while the glow of the city brightened the broad-paned picture window across the room. She made a pretty profile sitting there, tired and mussed, the Big Apple framing her with its night-piercing incandescence. “Why are you on the couch, Ads?”
The pet name deepened her grin. “Had news. Wanted to tell you in person.”
“Grades?”
She scowled. “I hate that you’re always one step ahead of me.”
“Then let me backtrack.” Conor grinned and ruffled her already tangled hair because he knew she hated the maneuver. He cocked her a look of exaggerated surprise. “What kind of news do you have, Ads?”
She laughed and pushed herself up to pull him into a hug he relished. A hug that hadn’t existed a few years ago. They’d climbed a lot of hurdles, he and Adelaide, step by step, none of them easy. “My grades are stellar.”
“Nice adjective. SAT word. Define stellar.”
She yawned, slipped her arm around his waist and pulled him back to the couch where she re-bundled under a hand-knit ivory Irish throw. “Enough so that the registrar sent me a congratulatory e-mail, reminding me to include the professor’s accolades on my resume.”
“Accolades for...?”
Addie straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat and offered her best imitation of Professor Duane Higgins’ graveled voice, “For receiving the highest recorded grade in his Income Tax Law class.”
Conor grinned. “Highest, Addie?” He couldn’t even begin to pretend that her words didn’t tweak his competitive spirit. His shoulders straightened with pride.
She nodded and smirked.
“Beat your old man, did you?”
“Marginally, but a win’s a win.”
Conor threw back his head and laughed. “Of course, I had a pregnant wife at home, so my attentions were split by necessity.”
Addie matched his smile. “I would call that advantageous because I have to maintain myself, my apartment, my meals, my work and my laundry on my own, while dealing with the Washington Metro, or lack thereof. No wife.”
“And no worries.” Conor wrapped her in a hug, then tilted her chin up. “I’m proud of you, kid.”
“And yet, you have no ice cream.”
“None?” Conor frowned. Not like he was a big fan, but... “You checked?”
She nodded. “Must have been eating out a lot lately.”
He had been, but still...he hated to think there was something she wanted and he couldn’t provide it. He reached for the phone. “We’ll order some.”
“That’s so New York.” Addie stretched out a hand and slapped the disconnect button. “I can live without ice cream until tomorrow, Dad. Seriously.”
He knew she could, but he wanted to celebrate her grades, her time, her inclusion of him in her life at long last. “But this is special.”
She grinned. “It’ll still be special tomorrow. We can hit Cold Stone as long as we can eat inside. They’ve got that pumpkin pie concoction I’ve been dying for.”
Conor frowned. “Then why didn’t you get one? It’s not like D.C. isn’t filled with overpriced restaurants, including ice cream parlors.”
“Made myself wait. Had to do well. The thought of that ice cream became my reward.”
An Alicia trait. Conor smiled, remembering when times were tough and money was tight, how Leash could stretch a dollar to an impossible length, and then reward herself when she stuck to a goal. Worthy attributes.
“Where’s the tree?” Addie waved a hand to the big window.
Conor loosened his shirt, tie and whatever else might have constricted his neck for the last eighteen hours as he settled back. “Getting it tomorrow. Kim, Brian, and the Kid are coming over to decorate it.”
“Awesome.” A quick smile chased more of the sleepy expression from Addie’s face. “I’ll stay and help, then head out to Mom’s on Sunday.”
“Was she expecting you today?” Conor kept his voice carefully nonchalant. Talking about Leash at Christmas time always proved a tough go. “Since I wasn’t?”
Addie laughed. “I called her and told her about my change in plans. Can’t have her worrying about me on top of everything else.”
Instant radar spike. “Else?” He gave his youngest daughter an elbow nudge. “Spill it, Ads. What’s your mother got to worry about?”
Addie leveled him a considering look slated to do her well in courtrooms and boardrooms in the not too distant future. “To speak or not to speak, that is the question.”
“Is she okay?” Conor tried to ebb his rising concern. “She’s healthy? Unhurt?”
Addie shot him a look of appraisal, then shrugged. “She wants to leave the library, open her own bookstore and serve coffee and lattés to average Princetonians.”
“Average Princetonian? An oxymoron if ever there was one.” Conor arched a humorous brow as he weighed this tidbit of information. Leash wanting to start her own business? Broach the world at large? Get out of the library where she’d hidden herself behind towers of shelving for the last eight years? A good thing, all in all. “What’s the problem?”
Addie frowned. “A lot of understandable legalese. Red tape. Finding the right location, then getting approval.”
Approvals in Princeton were not an easy achievement. Like many old money towns, the locals worked to maintain the sanctity and atmosphere of a cherished lifestyle. Conor understood the advantages and disadvantages of the town’s stand. New, fly-by-night businesses were carefully weeded out, keeping commercial and residential property values inflated, but occasionally good, sound enterprise got the wrecking ball as well.
But Alicia was tough, and she had a good lawyer. He’d recommended Bill Pearson himself when their marriage dissolved eight years ago. Funny. It didn’t seem like it could possibly be that long, but...
Proof sat before him, in the form of a beautiful young woman who’d managed to nudge his income tax law score into a less notable second place. “I think old Higgins is getting soft,” he teased, shifting the subject away from Alicia. “Enamored of a pretty face.”
“And I think you got the shellacking you so richly deserved,” his daughter shot back. “So. Tomorrow. We’ll get ice cream, call it breakfast...”
Conor pushed aside the meteorologist’s prediction of twenty-degree temperatures for the weekend.
“Drag the tree up here...”
Then he thanked God for the huge freight elevator that serviced his building from the rear.
“...pull out the decorations...”
“Foster can—”
“It’s more fun if we do it ourselves,” Addie insisted. “Part of the process.”
“I see.”
“Then we decorate.”
Conor nodded, grinned, sto
od and reached out a hand. “By that time Kim, Brian and the Kid will be here.”
Addie slipped her fingers into his and let him tug her upright before dropping her head to his chest. “I think her name’s Grayce.”
Conor laughed as he walked Addie toward her room. “She likes it when I call her the Kid.”
“I know.” Addie shook her head and slanted a gaze up to him. “You’ve gotten better with kids over the years.”
“Taking more time,” he admitted, wishing he’d been smart enough to see that option two decades back. Still, he believed things happen for a reason. Acting downright stupid while still considered one of the most informed experts on mergers and acquisitions law was obviously part of some eternal plan. “So.” He leaned down and planted a kiss to the top of her head. “You sure that waiting for the ice cream is okay?”
She smiled, “Yes, but I’m glad you understood how much it mattered.”
He gave her a crooked smile and a half nod. “You’ve got a date.”
She reached up and gave him another hug. “Love you, Dad. Good night.”
His heart swelled. Not too many Christmases ago he’d envisioned a different path for his life. A final path, cold, wet and decidedly uncomfortable. For the short run, anyway, until his options disappeared in a watery grave.
This was definitely a better choice.
As he moved around the corner to his room, he considered Addie’s actions and smiled. She’d come here, to New York, to spend time with him. Share her achievements. She could have gone to her mother’s in Princeton and called him on the phone, but she didn’t. He didn’t say ‘home’ when he referred to Alicia’s house. Way too arbitrary. His penthouse was just as much their home as the sprawling salt-box in Princeton.
Funny. He hated that multi-million dollar stone house now as much as he’d admired it twelve years ago. Then it had been a status symbol, an expression of immense wealth, subtle and complete. The gray stone extended Cape Cod screamed success in old money style, not new money crass, and he’d loved that step up.
Try, Try Again Page 3