by Elle Wright
Sighing, Parker turned to Brooklyn. “Can you give us a minute?”
His sister’s mouth fell open. “Parker . . . why?”
“Because I asked you to, Brooklyn. Go have Arlene make you some lunch or something. Call Carter, I don’t know. Just leave us alone for a minute.”
Shaking her head, Brooklyn did as he requested and left him alone with the latest Ex-Mrs. Parker Wells Sr. When the door was closed, and they were alone, Parker motioned for Patricia to take a seat.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Parker, don’t play me,” Patricia said with a scowl. “You’re not that nice.”
He blinked. Nice? He’d never pretended to like Patricia, but he was respectful of her title. Despite how she’d treated him and his sister, he’d made sure he was cordial at all times. That was something he’d learned from his mother, Marie.
Marie was kind, giving. She was all the things that no wife of Senior had been since.
“What is it, Patricia?” Parker asked, his patience dangling on a very thin thread. He didn’t have time for this. He had to get to work and put out the seemingly endless fires his father had set in motion. “What do you need to say?”
“I expect to get what’s owed to me.”
“You’ll get exactly what we agreed upon. Anything else?”
Patricia’s mouth pulled in a tight line. “Yes, actually there is. I have information that’s very valuable to you and that little ingrate you call a sister.”
Parker was admittedly curious. It was no secret that his father was into all kinds of shady business. He wondered what Patricia had in her back pocket that would be worth something to him. Would this information affect him and his siblings? Wellspring Water?
Unwilling to show his hand yet, he sat on the chair his sister had vacated a few minutes earlier, crossing his left leg over his right. “I’m listening.”
Patricia let out a humorless chuckle. “Really? Do you think I’m going to play my hand that fast and easy?”
“That would depend on a few things. One being if it has anything to do with my family. The other being if it has anything to do with my company.”
“Your company? Senior isn’t dead, Parker.”
“Whatever he is, it’s no concern of yours anymore.” Parker took a deep breath. His mask was slipping, and he couldn’t afford it at that moment. He’d prided himself on his ability to get the job done, and that meant being able to get to the thick of things without losing his temper.
“Oh, okay. It’s like that?”
With raised eyebrows, he asked. “How should it be? You’re not his wife anymore. You’re free to leave with the money we gave you, money you wouldn’t have seen if it had not been for me and Brooklyn. I’m not sure why you insist on dragging this out longer than it has to be. If you know something that would be of use to me and my family, why not just say it? If I feel that it’s worth something, I’ll act accordingly. Because I’m sure that’s what this is about. Isn’t it? Your bottom line? Cash.”
Patricia was always after her next dollar. He knew the type, had even been fooled by a few women in the past. But he’d learned the hard way to never let his guard down, and never drop his card before his turn.
Leaning against the table, Patricia crossed her feet at her ankles and straightened her wig. “What is another sibling worth to you, Parker?”
The sneer in her tone when she said his name wasn’t lost on him. “If that sibling is from you, I cry bullshit.”
Patricia was younger than Senior, yes. But she wasn’t young enough to be pregnant with Senior’s baby.
His ex-stepmother glared at him. “Not my child.”
“Whose child?”
“Senior had another child. A daughter. I only know because he slipped up one morning at breakfast.”
“Why should I believe you?”
The thought of there being another Wells sibling turned his stomach. Not that he didn’t love his brother and sister. On the contrary, he loved them more than anything, anyone. He’d do anything for them, and had.
He assessed Patricia, who was watching him intently, a smirk on her augmented lips. Fake. She could be lying. He wouldn’t put it past her to try and extort more cash from him with this long lost sister crap. But something told him she wasn’t lying this time.
Senior had made no secret of his penchant for mistresses. Bryson’s mother had been a long-term mistress, and most of the wives he’d brought home were former side chicks. There could very well be another sibling out there somewhere. And if there is, he needed to find out.
“Name your price,” he said coolly.
A smug Patricia threw out some astronomical number that made Parker’s blood boil.
“Nice try, but hell no.”
Her mouth fell open. “But this information is priceless.”
“If there is another sibling, I will find her with or without you.” He stood up and walked to the door, swinging it open, nearly pulling Brooklyn into the room too. His sister braced herself on the door. Shaking his head, he asked, “Really?”
Brooklyn shrugged. “Sorry.”
Parked turned toward Patricia. “Your moving truck is ready to leave. I suggest you follow it.”
Kissing his sister on her forehead, he murmured, “I’ll call you later. I have something to take care of.” Then, he left.
Chapter 2
I can’t believe I wasted all my pretty years on this idiot.
Kennedi Robinson shook her head as she glanced at the dollar amount on the last spousal support check she would ever write. It had been a long year, full of legal briefs, subpoenas, and surprise court dates, all designed by her ex-husband to extort as much money as he could from her.
Luckily for her, the Judge had agreed that the initial divorce decree stands and spousal support would after one year. That year was up.
Signing the check, she stuffed it in the envelope, addressed to her attorney, her colleague and friend, Paula. “Here you go,” Kennedi said, hanging the envelope to Paula, who was seated across from her desk, engrossed in a file.
“You sure you don’t want to deliver this yourself?”
Kennedi giggled. She knew Paula wasn’t serious. The two were consummate professionals at work, and profanity while in the process of business was a no-no. “I don’t want to give him anymore of my energy. He already took my money; he won’t take my dignity.”
Paula eyed her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Kennedi stood and made her way over to her office window. It was a beautiful late summer day in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She’d had a chance to enjoy the weather that morning on her daily run, which she rarely missed. There was nothing better than the wind in her face, the burn in her legs, as she ran her route through Gallup Park.
The park was Ann Arbor’s most popular recreation area, located along the Huron River and Geddes Pond. It was a runner’s dream, and Kennedi took advantage of the asphalt trails every single morning.
She heard Paula approach her from behind. Soon, her best friend was standing next to her, offering her silent strength. The two had been friends since they’d enrolled at the Michigan Law eight years ago. Since their first day of classes, they’d supported one another through everything, through the death of Kennedi’s parents, through Paula’s pregnancy, and now through Kennedi’s failed marriage.
Eyeing her best friend out of the corner of her eyes, Kennedi said, “I need to make a change, friend.”
Paula turned to her, but Kennedi refused to meet her gaze. “What change do you need to make, Kenni?”
Kennedi smiled at the nickname Paula had given her their first year of law school. “Change of scenery, Paula. I need a vacation.”
Years had passed since she’d entered the workforce, with no spas, no resorts, no time off in her plans. Kennedi worked hard in her job as a corporate attorney, putting in long hours for her clients.
“Then, take a vacation, Kenni.”
Ken
nedi folded her arms across her chest. It was almost laughable how easy Paula had made time off sound. “How am I supposed to do that when I’m pushing you down the aisle in one month.”
Paula smiled, a wistful look in her eyes. “I know. I can’t believe I’m getting married.”
Her best friend was engaged to Mark Hoover. The two had met during a golf outing last year, and the romance had blossomed into unconditional love and acceptance. Mark was the type of man that every woman dreamed about—intelligent, polished, handsome, and a provider. Kennedi knew he was a keeper when he’d shown Paula’s daughter nothing but respect and love from the very beginning. Kennedi’s goddaughter, Lauren, was smitten with her future stepfather and that was a testament to Mark’s willingness to love the three-year-old as if she were his biological daughter.
Kennedi squeezed Paula’s hand. It had been years since she’d seen her friend so happy; years of tears, struggling to make ends meet, and raising her daughter alone. “You deserve to be happy, Paula. I’m so proud that I’m going to be standing up for you when you marry the love of your life. Mark is a good man. He’ll be a good hubby to you and father to my Lauren.”
“Kenni?”
Oh Lord. Not that she didn’t love her best friend with everything in her, but she couldn’t bear another you’ll find love again conversation. Yes, Kennedi had been dragged through the longest, nightmare divorce from hell. No, Kennedi wasn’t sour on love. She just wasn’t looking for it at that point in her life.
She’d spent a full two years tomorrow dealing with her ex’s antics. What she wanted was a little peace and quiet, away from home, away from the demands of her job.
“Paula, I know what you’re going to say, but it isn’t necessary. Really.”
Kennedi smiled at the worried expression on Paula’s face. Her friend was gorgeous every day, but she was radiant with the glow of her impending nuptials. Paula’s brown skin was sun kissed and smooth. She was a natural beauty, and Mark was the lucky man who better not ever forget that he was marrying a gem.
“I’m not sad.”
Paula peered at her friend with suspicious eyes. “If you were, I wouldn’t blame you. We all thought Quincy was the one for you.”
“Well, turns out he wasn’t. And I’ve made my peace with that. I truly appreciate your support. You were excellent in that court room.” Instead of corporate law, Paula had chosen family law as her field of choice. Her friend’s long-term goal was to become one of the top divorce attorneys in the state, and she was well on her way.
“Can I just tell you that you are my shero?”
Surprised, Kennedi took a step back. “Me? Why?”
“You could have let this man break you. He put you through the ringer, with one motion after another, false accusations, going after your family business. But I watched you walk in that courtroom every day with your head held high, your shoe game fierce, and that uncanny ability you have to turn off your emotions. He tried everything he could, threw any and everything at you. But you never let him see you sweat. That’s why you’re my shero. I don’t think I could have done it.”
It wasn’t an uncanny ability, Kennedi thought. It was a learned behavior she’d been able to perfect as the result of losing both of her parents at the same time to a horrible crime. Kenneth and Yolanda Robinson had been the unfortunate victims of a home invasion. The culprit, an older gentleman, high on drugs had broken into their home, in their middle-class neighborhood, and killed them for daring to be home while he stole everything they’d worked hard for.
“Kennedi, you’re the strongest person I know. But even the strongest person needs time to regroup, to relax, to release. So, if you need a break, please take one.”
Her bestie had given her a lot to think about. She’d spent years being strong for everyone else around her, for her sister, for her friend, for her aunt. For the past few months, she’d felt bogged down. Like her aunt used to say, “she was kicking, but not high. Flopping and can’t fly.” “I think I’m going to head to Wellspring.”
Paula grinned then. “Good. You need to visit.”
Wellspring, Michigan, nestled between Kalamazoo and Grand Rapids was Kennedi’s hometown. She’d been born in the small, mostly African American town. Although, her parents had moved away before she hit high school, she’d visited many times over the years, spent summers there with her Aunt Angelia.
It was just what she needed, time away to renew, to relax, and begin the process of rebuilding her life. “I’ll talk to my boss this morning.”
“Maybe Jared will take some of your workload from you.”
Jared Smith was a junior partner at the firm, and her senior. He was the first African American partner, junior or otherwise, at their firm. They’d met during law school, and after a disastrous start at another firm, he’d brought her in and helped her find her footing there.
“I don’t know. He’s busy at home, with his family.” Jared was a proof positive that attorneys could lead fulfilling lives outside of the office. He was happily married with two lovely children, and part owner of one of her favorite after-work destinations in Ypsilanti Township, Michigan.
Ypsilanti was located six miles east of Ann Arbor, and approximately forty miles west of Detroit. It was home to Eastern Michigan University, and where Kennedi currently resided. Her mom and dad had moved to the area when he’d taken a job as an attorney for an automobile manufacturer in Detroit. She’d followed in his footsteps when she’d decided to go into corporate law. Kennedi couldn’t say that she’d done it because she loved the work, though. Mostly, she’d done it because that’s what he’d wanted for her, what he’d groomed her for.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask, Kennedi.”
Paula was right. She’d ask, and hope for the best.
Later that evening, Kennedi turned down Main Street in the downtown Wellspring area. After she’d talked to Jared, he’d worked everything out with her, agreeing with Paula that a vacation was long overdue. He’d worked so efficiently that she was able to leave the office by noon. Kennedi decided it was better to get on the road right away, or she’d definitely change her mind. So, she’d sped home, tossed several things in her suitcase, picked up an ice coffee and some snacks and left town.
The drive from Ypsilanti to Wellspring took about two and half hours. It was easy driving in the middle of the day and she’d had a chance to listen to her audiobook and enjoy the beauty that was Michigan.
She glanced to her left, then her right. The town hadn’t changed much. It was still the quaint little place she’d remembered. There were people walking down the street with their kids, dog walkers, elderly couple holding hands. On her left was the Bee’s Knees diner, which she would definitely pay a visit to as soon as possible. Dee Clark’s Western Omelets were to die for, but Kennedi preferred the catfish with lots of hot sauce. Her mouth watered in anticipation.
The downtown area had grown since her last visit a few years ago. There was a Panera Bread and a Jimmy John’s on the strip. And she’d heard there was a new Walmart on the outskirts of town. But she was glad to see that the overall charm of the city hadn’t changed.
Kennedi was ticking off all the things she’d like to do once she was settled. Distracted by the tranquility she’d felt as soon as she hit the city limits, she went to grab her second iced coffee and squeezed a bit too hard, spilling the drink on her brand new Chanel bag. The one she’d given herself as a divorce gift, the one that had cost a pretty penny.
She reached over and opened the glove compartment and pulled out several napkins. Dabbing her bag, she prayed it didn’t leave a stain on the light colored leather. Then, she was jolted forward, her chest smacking the steering wheel.
Oh no. Through her front window, she could see the luxury truck that she’d rammed into. Oh my God.
Immediately, Kennedi jumped into action. The last thing she needed was to shell out another dime on a careless mistake. Putting the car into park, she hopped out and rushed forward, checking fo
r damage on the truck. Of course, since it was a truck and she was driving her Ford Taurus, she was the one with the huge dent in her front fender.
Grumbling a curse, she resisted the urge to kick her tire. She heard the door of the truck open and footsteps heading her way.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, still mentally cursing herself for distracted driving. How many times had she told people to avoid texting and driving, talking and driving . . . anything while driving? “I promise I’ll pay for any damage to your truck. I was distracted.” Kennedi rolled her eyes. She’d basically just told on herself. Another thing that she’d cautioned her clients against. Way to incriminate yourself, Kennedi.
“It’s fine.”
The voice was like butter, poured over fat, juicy crab legs—warm. When she finally looked up, she gasped. The man behind the voice was just as appealing, just as he’d always been. Parker Wells Jr.
Tongue-tied, she pointed to his fender then hers before finally finding her voice. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.
Parker smiled, bending low to assess the damage to her fender. He smelled like musk and woods. Perfect. “It’s okay. There’s not damage to my car. It’s yours that is in need of a mechanic.”
And he didn’t remember her. Well, she hadn’t expected him to. She hadn’t lived in Wellspring in years. Even when she did, he was older than her and traveled in a different crowd. “Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Are you okay?”
Kennedi swallowed, rubbing her chest which seemed to suddenly ache. “I-I’m good.”
“Did you ram into the steering wheel?”
Nodding, she flinched when he reached out the touch her, nearly falling on her ass. Thankfully, her car was there to stop the further humiliation. “Yes,” she answered once she was standing straight again.
She tugged on her shirt and smoothed her hair back. I need a mirror.
Parker frowned. “Do I know you?”
“No,” she blurted out. Get it together, Kennedi. Clearing her throat, she muttered, softly this time, “No.”
Parker’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips. “Are you from Wellspring?”