Just then Victor appeared in the dining room entrance. He paused and gave us an inquiring look.
“I invited Charles to dinner tonight,” I said.
He looked at us cooly for a moment before smiling. I remembered that smile from the times I’d seen him use it at parties like the one in Paris. “Very well,” he said. “Please, sit. I’ll be down in a minute.”
I gave Charles an apologetic shrug and we sat down next to each other, leaving Victor’s customary spot at the head of the huge oak dining room table for him. Karen brought out an extra place setting for Charles and finished setting the rest of the table.
“You really get this service every day?” Charles asked.
“Just about.”
“Wow. He knows how to live.”
I nodded. A minute later, Victor swept into the room, paused to assess how we were seated, then sat down next to me at the head of the table.
We ate our first course in awkward silence. I stared down at my potato and basil soup, my mind filled with questions but not really knowing where to start. I was relieved when Victor finally spoke and broke the silence.
“Do you live around here, Charles?”
I wasn’t expecting Victor to question Charles at all, but I figured his upbringing made him socially responsible for asking general questions like that. Or maybe he was genuinely interested. Charles rested his spoon against the bowl. He looked over at me. “Caitlyn and I are originally from Sausalito. Our parents’ house is right near the harbor. Do you remember it at all?”
I shook my head and gave him a rueful look.
Charles gave me a lopsided smile. “Well, maybe you will. For the past two years I’ve been going to grad school in Massachusetts for mechanical engineering. I’m going to graduate this year and try to find a job in San Francisco, or maybe Los Angeles. I just know that I want to be back in California.”
“Very good,” Victor said. “So, mechanical engineering. What industry will you work in?”
“I’m not sure. Do you know a lot about it or something? You don’t really look like an engineer.”
Victor smiled a phony smile yet again. “No, I’m not. But I have my hands in a lot of different ventures.”
“Well, more than anything, now that I know she’s alive, I just want to be close to Caitlyn.”
“Please call her Dove when you’re in my house,” Victor said steadily.
Charles looked as if he’d been slapped. “You’re just establishing ownership over her! Caitlyn is not your slave!”
He kept glancing at me when he spoke, as though he were expecting me to jump out of my seat and proclaim to everyone that I suddenly remembered everything about my past. Instead I felt insulted.
“I’m not—”
“I’m asking for manners, Charles,” Victor interrupted, his voice steady as before. “This is my home, and I make the rules in my home.”
A heavy silence settled into the air as I watched Charles process how to respond. I realized I needed to jump in before things got more heated, so I decided to ask a question that had been lingering in my mind since that afternoon. “What happened to your—I guess I mean our—parents?” I asked him. “I mean, I know there was an accident, but what exactly happened?” I was afraid of the answer and suddenly wished I hadn’t asked when I saw the sad look on Charles’s face. It wasn’t going to be good. Of course it wasn’t going to be good.
“You guys were trying to find me before driving to your graduation,” he started.
“Find you? Graduation?” I asked.
“You went to art school in San Francisco after you graduated high school. You majored in art history and illustration.”
I looked at Victor. Despite the cool way he was trying to handle dinner, he looked interested in this aspect of my past.
I nodded, my heart suddenly growing excited as I began to make the connection. “I lost all of my other memories except for art. I know how to draw, paint, and I can talk about famous artists and paintings for days,” I told Charles. “I never understood why I knew so much. But this makes sense.”
Charles nodded. “You absolutely loved art. It was your life. You worked so hard in school, and you were going to work as an art teacher before going to graduate school for art theory. Then—” Charles paused, his voice getting choked up. He cleared his throat. “The day you graduated college was the day I came out as gay to Mom and Dad. I don’t know why I decided to tell them that day. Maybe I thought since it was such a happy time in everyone’s there was no way they would be upset with me.”
Charles took another bite of his food before continuing. When I looked at Victor, he wasn’t quite as enraptured as I was, but he had stopped eating to listen.
“It turned out I was wrong. I told them, and they both blew up at me.” He shook his head. “They apologized pretty quickly once they cooled down a bit, but by that time I was furious. I said some pretty nasty things to them and stormed off. You tried calling after me, but I ignored you.”
Charles picked up his spoon and twirled the contents of his soup. He sighed. “Worst decision of my life,” he said with a shrug. Unshed tears welled in his eyes, and my heart ached with sympathy. These are your parents he’s talking about, I thought. I felt guilty for not being sadder. Charles continued. “Your graduation ceremony was in San Francisco. The police found Mom and Dad’s car overturned on an embankment in the opposite direction. You guys must have been looking for me. I was told it was a head-on collision with a drunk driver. Mom and Dad were killed instantly.” Charles shook his head.
“But there was no trace of you, except for the purse you left behind. You were a ghost.”
“I must’ve found my way to San Francisco somehow,” I muttered.
“And after two years on the streets,” Victor said slowly, “you came here.”
That was true. Who knows how much longer I could have survived out there on my own. More than that, look at what I had become since Victor came into my life. Or I came into his. It was still confusing which one was more appropriate.
Charles seemed to have snapped out of the sadness brought on by the story of our parents. “Yeah, to be his sex slave,” he said, jabbing his finger in Victor’s direction.
I looked to Victor’s face and a chill took over my body. I had seen him angry before—as in Paris—but it was a wild anger. For the first time I saw the way he looked when he was in conflict with another man, and the focused hatred made me feel for my brother.
I had to speak before Victor did. “Charles, god damn it, that’s not what this is,” I said. “When—”
Charles interrupted me, and I could tell he was close to a rage. “Come on, Caitlyn, you have to realize what this looks like. This super rich guy rescues a girl off the streets and wines and dines her, takes her to Paris, for what?” Now he looked at Victor. “I mean did you actually pay for her? You can be honest.”
“Charles!” I screamed. I couldn’t believe he—or anyone—would ask that in front of me. It was disgusting.
“Enough!” Victor thundered. The entire house, from the dining room to the ambient noise coming from the activity in the kitchen, went quiet. The only sound to be heard was the ring of the chandelier overhead and the china cabinet reverberating from Victor’s outburst. I had never heard anyone yell that loudly. Both Charles and I turned to face him.
His hand was flexing into and out of a fist on the table, and he was looking down at it. In a measured tone, he spoke. “Charles, you have come into my home and disrupted what should have been a perfectly pleasant dinner. You need to leave.”
Charles sat up straighter to protest. “I can’t leave Caitlyn—”
“Her name is Dove, and if you do not leave this table immediately, everyone in this room will regret it.”
Silence. Finally, Charles pushed his bowl back and scooted his chair away from the table with a loud screech. “Fine,” he said. “I can’t stand being here any longer.” He turned to me before standing. “Let me know if you
want to find out more about your family,” he said. I gave him a small nod, stunned at the sudden outburst.
“Wait,” I said. “How are you getting home?”
“I’ll call a cab,” he said, standing. He turned and walked out of the dining room. As I watched him leave in silence, I realized I had no way to contact him. I got up and ran, catching him in the foyer.
“How can I contact you?” I asked as I reached him.
He turned and thought, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small notebook and pen. He wrote something and tore the page out, then handed it to me. “Here’s my number. Call me when you decide.”
I nodded and watched him go before returning to the dining room.
Victor was staring at the same spot he had been when he had dismissed Charles. As I walked back to my place at the table, he looked up. The intensity in his eyes had died down a bit, but he had a puzzled, almost sad expression on his face.
“Did you get his phone number?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” I said.
He nodded. “Good. That makes things easier.” He got up from the table. “Let me know what you decide to do. I need to do some work before bed.”
I looked up at him from my half-finished soup. What would I do?
“Okay,” I said, barely above a whisper.
After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, turned, and left, his mouth a thin line.
Just what would I do?
Chapter Twenty-two
Later that evening, when I was alone in my room and the rest of the house was quiet and asleep, I took out my cell phone and the slip of paper Charles had handed me. There was no sense of running away from my past now that I knew it was there to be found. I dialed the numbers and pressed call.
“Hello?
“Hi, Charles?”
“Caitlyn, is that you? It’s strange hearing your voice over the phone.”
He still wouldn’t call me Dove. “Yeah, it’s me. I want to see the house in Sausalito. I’m hoping then things will start to makes sense for me.”
“Of course, you don’t even know how great that sounds. But what about Victor?”
I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something nasty. “You don’t need to worry about him,” I said instead.
“Great. Things are going to change; I can feel it. Everything will go back to the way it used to be. Close enough, anyway.”
I wouldn’t be so sure, I thought.
“Can I pick you up Monday?” Charles asked.
He was so eager. I really didn’t want to disappoint him after all the time he had spent searching for me. “I’ll let you know. I have to make some arrangements at work before I leave.”
“Work? You mean Victor?”
“No, I’ll explain later.”
“Of course. If you need to get a hold of me, just give me a call.”
“Thanks.” I hung up and dropped my phone next to my pillow before throwing myself onto my bed.
This was really happening. After years of having no past, I was on the verge of finding evidence of my existence prior to waking up on the streets of San Francisco. Was I ready? Did I really agree to meet with this man who claimed to be my brother and take a look at my childhood home? My life with Victor was a good one. He had nurtured my development as an artist and given me more pleasure than I could ever imagine possible. What would I find in this home that could make me want to leave everything I had?
I closed my eyes and draped my arm across my face.
There is more to a person than what meets the eye. That is, if you give them a chance.
I hoped I was doing the right thing.
***
I went to work at the Lotus Gallery the next day and told Marissa I would need some time off to visit my brother. She was shocked by the news but thrilled that I had the opportunity to find out something about my old life. When the day was over, Oscar picked me up, as he had been doing ever since I got the job.
“Thanks for the ride, Oscar,” I said. When I turned, I saw it was Victor in the driver’s seat.
“Oh, Victor. I didn’t realize you were going to pick me up.”
“I had some errands to do in the city. Besides, Oscar told me you mentioned that you want to learn how to drive.” I had told Oscar that I thought it was about time I learned to drive myself to work so he wouldn’t have to chauffeur me around anymore, but I didn’t realize he was going to tell Victor. I was embarrassed by how many basic skills I was lacking since having lost my memory.
My eyes widened. I looked around at the busy streets, with drivers swerving around each other and pedestrians walking out into crosswalks with no notice. “Here? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He chuckled. “I don’t have a death wish. We’ll wait until we’re home.”
I wished he would stop saying “home”. To me the mansion was still Victor’s, not ours, and now that I was going to visit my old house with Charles, I was even more confused about where home was.
“I have to stop by my office and pick up some paperwork first.” We zoomed down the road with an almost careless speed, weaving around slower traffic. If anyone else were driving—even Oscar—I would have been clinging to the seat with fear, but Victor’s control of his surroundings was reassuring. I laid my head back on the headrest and enjoyed the ride.
Finally, we pulled up to a tall glass building in the heart of downtown. The building was cold and industrial, not at all inviting.
“Wow, this is where you work?” I said in wonder. I couldn’t imagine spending all day in such a stark place. The Lotus Gallery was in a large building, but at least there was some color.
“Were you expecting something different?”
I stared at the building thoughtfully for a moment. “No, I guess I’m not surprised.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how I should take that.”
We parked in the garage underneath the building, pulling into a spot with a sign above it that I assumed was reserved for him.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked as he turned the car off and opened the driver’s side door.
“Sure. This won’t take long.”
Curiosity got the better of me, so I quickly followed after him as he entered the building. After we exited the elevator, we made our way to what appeared to be the secretary’s desk. The woman sitting at the desk spotted us. She had pretty, light brown hair tied back into a bun and dark blue eyes. She ran her hands over her hair and straightened out her skirt before walking over to us.
As she came near, I noticed her face was caked with makeup; her eyes were a dark mass of black mascara and smoky eyeshadow, and her lips were the color of a fire hydrant. I forced myself not to stare too openly at the spectacle.
“Mr. Draper, how are you doing?” She glanced at me questioningly and I gave her a small smile. I knew she would probably sell her soul to be standing where I was at that instant.
The woman moved closer to Victor, and he put his hand on her shoulder. “Hi, Dolly. I’m not staying long. I came by for the papers from Mr. Marcus.”
Dolly? I hoped that wasn’t a pet name. I looked around for something else to stare at and realized that the office was filled with attractive women and men. As they walked by, they all gave Victor a warm greeting.
I was sure that all the women wanted to get inside Victor’s pants, maybe even some of the men, too. My entire body bristled with jealousy.
“Wait here, Dove,” Victor said. “I just have to finish up some things.” Everyone watched him walk to his office, getting back to work only when he shut his door.
I sat down in a chair near the secretary’s desk. Why couldn’t I have gone into the office with him while he got some work done? What could he be doing in there that he wanted to hide from me? It wasn’t like I was going to spill any big company secrets. At worst I would just sit there quietly, not saying a thing. I just wanted to be close to him.
Damn my insecurities.
About ten minutes later, Victor emerged from his office with a folder stuffed with papers tucked under his arm. He looked tired. He was an owner of a large energy company. That meant he had to be serious about his work every once in awhile.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” I said, getting up from my seat. We walked to the elevator and back to the car.
“Is Dolly her real name?” I asked, once we were settled in.
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.” Although I had brought it up, I was suddenly embarrassed by my self-doubt and quickly changed the topic. “How’s work going?”
“It’s been stressful lately, to be honest. Do you remember meeting a Mr. Monaghan in Paris?” he asked as we pulled out of the garage.
I shook my head.
“Well, his company is failing, somewhat unsurprisingly. I need to see if I can help him out someway without money. There’s a lot to untangle.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Despite our past differences, Monaghan is a good man with good ideas. Unfortunately, he’s not much of a businessman. But I might be able to figure out how to leverage him into something useful.” Victor sighed. “I’ll be busy these next few days trying to figure out what to do. There’s a lot to think about.”
I nodded. I was all too familiar with the feeling.
***
A few minutes later, Victor stopped at the beginning of his long driveway and put the car in park. “This is where we’ll switch seats.”
I had said I wanted to drive, hadn’t I? I gulped and hopped out of the car, brushing by Victor as I made my way to the driver’s seat. I sat down and marveled at how far away I was from the steering wheel.
“You might want to move the seat closer,” he said as he put on his seat belt. “And buckle up.”
I buckled my seatbelt and adjusted my seat into a more comfortable position. I looked at Victor expectantly. “Now what?”
“Ease your foot onto the break. Yes, like that. Now put your hand on the gear shift.” As I did so, Victor’s large hand covered mine. My heart flip flopped at the touch of his rough and calloused hands. I shook my head and tried to focus on what he was telling me. “Move it down to take it out of park and into drive.” He moved the lever down along with me. “Now, very carefully lift your foot away from the break and press on the gas.”
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