"I miss them too," she said wistfully, wishing that she could be there to see their game. I don’t really want to do this to her, but it will have to happen sooner or later. Jamie took a deep breath, then tentatively made her request. "I know this is asking a lot," she rushed the rest of the sentence before she lost her nerve, "but would you be willing to come down here? My father wants to talk to you."
Damn, what’s going on down there? "Sure, I can come right away."
No hesitation or questions, just love and support. No wonder I love this woman! "Ryan," she said softly, "it won’t be fun. He’ll cross-examine you, and I promise he’ll have you so mixed up you won’t know if you’re coming or going."
"If you want me to come, I’m there," she said firmly, tossing the basketball to her brother when he tried to distract her by tossing it to her.
"Okay," Jamie said as she breathed a sigh of relief. "Can you take down directions?"
"I’ll just look it up on Mapquest. I’ve got their address from when I sent them a thank-you note after Pebble Beach. I’ll be there as quick as I can."
Before Ryan could disconnect, Jamie spoke again. "Um, Ryan?"
"Yes, Honey?"
"Don’t take this the wrong way, but take a shower first, okay?"
She laughed long and hard at that. "I would take a shower before I took out the trash given how I look right now! And I’ll dress like a girl. Don’t worry, Babe, I won’t embarrass you."
Damn. "That’s not what I meant, Honey. I just know that you get focused, and I could see you grabbing Conor’s keys and taking off before you had a chance to think. I could never be embarrassed by you, Ryan."
"Okay, Baby, I love you," Jamie could hear a chorus of deep male voices parroting her ‘I love you’ in the background. "Knock it off, boys," Ryan shouted. "I’ll be there as soon as I can," she said, adding another soft, "I love you."
40 minutes later, Ryan and Brendan were cruising down the freeway in Brendan’s black Dodge Dakota. He had offered Ryan the use of the truck, but when he learned that Jamie had driven herself he decided to drop her off, ostensibly so that she could ride home with Jamie, but she suspected that he wanted to have a little talk on the way.
"I’d be happy to stay down on the Peninsula if you’d feel better to have me close by," he offered.
Ryan found the gesture terribly touching, even though she insisted that there was nothing to worry about. "He’s not a shotgun wielding lunatic," she teased. "He’s a big time lawyer."
"That’s the worst kind," Brendan said sagely. "He’s used to getting what he wants, and if he wants to split you up, he won’t play fair."
"Jeez, Bren, he doesn’t have the power to do that, even if he wants to. Jamie just said he had some questions for me."
"Yeah, like what country would you like to be deported to?"
She blew out a breath, trying to remind herself that Brendan harbored a deep distrust of corporate lawyers. "Let’s say you’re right," she conceded. "How can you help if he tries to do that?"
"I might just have to show some O’Flaherty muscle," he said, a fierce glower darkening his eyes. Brendan rarely made a physical threat against anyone, and Ryan knew that he was genuinely worried to do so now.
"I appreciate your offer, Bren, but I don’t think we can strong-arm him into accepting us. I didn’t get the impression that he was being unreasonable, just that he was giving her a hard time. I’m sure it will be okay in the end. They’ve had a very good relationship up ‘til now, and I can’t imagine this would make him forget that. I think he really loves her."
"You don’t get to be managing partner of a firm like that by giving in, Ryan. I think you should be prepared for him to really put pressure on you," Brendan cautioned.
"I’m as prepared as I can be," she said, anxiously tapping her foot against the dashboard. "Do I look okay?" she asked as she turned in her seat to face her brother.
A big smile lit up Brendan’s face. "I don’t think you’ve ever asked that before in your life," he said affectionately. "Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous before. This really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?"
"Jamie wants to build a better relationship with her parents. It means a lot to me to be supportive of that," she admitted.
"Well, I think you look lovely. Did you do something different to your hair?"
"Uh, yeah," she said with a tone that implied it should be obvious. "Didn’t you notice?"
"Um, did you change the color?" he asked.
She laughed wryly and shook her head. "Keep guessing, pal."
"Hmm…it looks like you did something to make it curly or something," he suggested, scrunching up his eyes to get a better look.
"Excellent powers of observation," she said exasperatedly. "I got almost nine inches cut off!"
"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" Brendan asked helplessly. "You never get a haircut, how could I know to even guess that?"
"Um...if you looked at me once in a while, you wouldn’t have to guess," she suggested.
"Aw, Ryan, you know we don’t look at you like you’re a girl," he explained patiently.
"Well, that makes me feel a lot better," she responded facetiously. "I’m going down to meet my girlfriend’s parents and try to convince them that I’m not some big predatory dyke, and my own family doesn’t think I’m a girl!"
"That’s not what I meant and you know it," Brendan complained. "We just think of you as our sister, not like a real woman."
"Oh, that’s much better," she said through her thin smile.
"I’ve never really been down here," Ryan admitted as they entered the Village of Hillsborough. "I’ve been to Palo Alto a couple of times for games, but other than riding my bike down El Camino Real one time, I don’t think I’ve even been past Hillsborough."
"Why would you have a need to be?" Brendan asked. "People like us cater to people like this," he said derisively. "We can work on these houses, and teach their kids, and guard their neighborhoods, but we wouldn’t be invited in for dinner. Like right now, for example. Even if they see me drop you off, I guarantee they don’t ask me in. But if her parents dropped Jamie off at our house, Da would be hurt if they didn’t come in and let him fix them a little something."
"You may be right," Ryan said. "But I have to say that Mr. Evans has been very generous with me so far. He knows Jamie took me to Pebble Beach, and he was happy that she takes me to play golf at the club. He seems very gracious."
"And how many times have they invited you to their home for dinner?" he asked, knowing the answer. "By the time you had mentioned Jamie’s name twice, Da was begging you to have her over."
"You’re right, Brendan, but they don’t have the kind of traditions that we do. Jamie says that she has never tasted a thing that her mother made. She didn’t even make her cocoa when she was sick!"
"No cocoa!" he shouted in outrage.
"Nope. She had a nanny and a cook who took care of her. When she skinned her knee, the nanny put a Band Aid on it. And she was a real piece of work. She told Jamie that sick children should not be coddled, so she didn’t even make a fuss over her when she was ill."
"She sure doesn’t seem as screwed up as she should be," Brendan marveled. "How did that happen?"
"She does have a marvelous grandfather whom she really cares for. He’s a great guy. He’s an Episcopal priest over on Nob Hill. I want to have him over for dinner some Sunday. I know Da would love him."
"I guess it’s true that even one loving person can change a child’s life for the better," Brendan said. He considered his own statement for a moment. "Gosh, what will that make Caitlin?" he mused. "She’s got at least 20 loving people in her life!"
"I don’t know how Caitlin will turn out, but I know she’ll never doubt that she was loved," Ryan said thoughtfully. "Just like I haven’t," she added as she turned to smile at her brother.
The Evans' home was bigger and more imposing than any Ryan had ever seen, making even the Pebble Be
ach house pale in comparison. It was a French provincial style, and even though it was mostly shielded from the street, they could easily see the tops of the turrets before they drove onto the property. As they pulled into the circular drive they got a much better feeling for the grand scale of the place, and both siblings turned silent. Brendan finally spoke. "There must be 30 rooms in that place."
Ryan shook her head as she said sadly, "I just have this image of a tiny little Jamie, all alone in that huge place with no one to play with."
"That’s right," he said. "She’s an only child, isn’t she?"
"Yeah," Ryan said, "just her and the old English nanny rambling around that place."
As Ryan put her hand on the door, she looked a little nervous. Brendan patted her leg and reminded her, "Now, do you promise to call home before you leave here?"
"Yes, I promise," she replied with a smile. "I appreciate your concern, Bren, and I know Jamie will too."
As she got out of the truck, she went to his window to kiss and hug her protective oldest brother. "Thanks again, Bren. This means a lot to me."
As he watched her climb the front stairs, Brendan mused. I don’t think Ryan has any idea what she’s gotten herself into with this guy. He’s got a well-deserved reputation as a lethal trial attorney. People I’ve talked to say he’s ruthless when he really wants something. I’m sure he won’t hesitate to do whatever he thinks he has to do to get what he wants—or in this case—what he doesn’t want.
Part 13
Jamie heard the bell ring at 7:05. She shot down the stairs, calling out, "I’ll get it!" as she ran. She flung the door open and quickly stepped outside as she closed the door behind her. She was puzzled to see Brendan’s truck pulling away, but her attention quickly reverted back to her lover. She threw her arms around her neck, pulled her down for an emotion-filled kiss, and hung on to her tightly, squeezing her until Ryan’s back started to ache. She finally let her go and backed up a step to survey her. "You look really nice, Honey," she said sincerely. Ryan had donned a pair of slim-cut white chinos with a side zipper, a banded collar, long-sleeved white cotton blouse, very crisply ironed, and her sleeveless black v-necked cardigan, neatly buttoned. She looked absolutely perfect for the setting--not too dressy and not too casual. Jamie marveled at her ability to always look appropriate for the occasion. She must just have an innate sense of style. I know that no one taught her these things.
"Are you really all right?" Ryan asked with concern, running her hand through Jamie’s hair.
"Yeah, I’m fine now," she said as she leaned in for another hug. "I guess we’d better go in. Are you ready?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes, I am," Ryan replied. "But I want you to remember something. Your parents don’t have any real power over you any more. And there’s nothing they can do to me. Their approval only means anything to me because it’s important to you. So if this doesn’t go well, we’ll just regroup and try again later, okay?" she asked as she leaned over a bit to stare directly into Jamie’s eyes.
"You’re right, Honey," she said with a small smile. "I’m just worried because I want them to love you too."
"That’s not going to happen right away, Baby. I’m kind of an acquired taste, like blood sausage," she said with a wink, referring to one of her grandfather’s favorite cold cuts.
"I’m so glad you’re here," she said as she rested her head on Ryan’s shoulder. "I feel like myself again when you’re with me."
"Let’s go in, Honey. They’re probably getting anxious."
"I don’t want to hurry. That’s a strategy I learned from my father. Keep them waiting. It shows you have the power," she said with an eyebrow wiggle as she turned to open the door.
Ryan didn’t really have the opportunity to notice the gorgeous foyer they walked through, because as soon as they were halfway through it, Jim was upon them. He stuck his hand out and said, "Thanks for coming, Ryan. I appreciate your responsiveness."
"You’re welcome," she said with a smile. She felt uncomfortable calling him ‘Jim’ given the circumstances, but she did not want to revert to ‘Mr. Evans’ since she knew that Jamie was right that she shouldn't relinquish any advantage she had, so she decided to avoid calling him anything, if possible.
He escorted her into the living room, and Catherine rose as they entered. She gave Ryan a dazzling smile and strode over, extending her hand. "Catherine Evans," she announced confidently. "It is a delight to finally meet you, Ryan."
Ryan gave her a dazzler in return as she said, "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Evans."
"I would feel more comfortable if you called me Catherine, Dear," she said, still holding Ryan’s hand. As she was being led over to the sofa, Ryan took a moment to assess the woman who pulled her along. Catherine looked almost nothing like her beautiful daughter, but she was mighty beautiful nonetheless. She was at least two inches shorter than Jamie, but she looked much smaller, probably because her bone structure was so delicate. She actually looked like a strong wind could blow her away, and Ryan offered up a silent prayer of thanks that Jamie had inherited a much sturdier build. I would be worried about crushing her when we made love if Jamie was that tiny, she mused.
Catherine indicated that Ryan should sit beside her, giving her a chance to study her face for a moment. To Ryan’s surprise, she noted that Catherine honestly did not share one feature with her daughter. Her nose was smaller and her lips were thinner than Jamie’s pouty ones. Her eyes were a warm dark brown rather than Jamie’s misty green. Catherine’s cheekbones were stronger than her daughter’s and her forehead a bit wider, giving her a look very demonstrative of her English heritage.
Ryan had to admit that Catherine was truly lovely, despite her outward fragility. Her skin was flawless, much like Jamie’s, but the coloring was very fair and it looked like she spent very little time in the sun. It was hard to tell if her hair color was natural, but it looked so perfectly matched to her skin tone that Ryan assumed she was a real blonde. Her hair was longer than Jamie’s, and cut in a style that Ryan would not have chosen for her. She was a very youthful looking woman, but her mid-length cut didn’t emphasize her youthfulness. Rather, it was the style Ryan saw so often on the photos of wealthy society matrons in the Examiner. She could look 30 with the right haircut, she mused.
Catherine looked at her with a friendly but reserved smile and asked solicitously, "What can I get you to drink? Jamie and I are having Campari and soda, but I can get you anything you want."
Ryan’s playful side considered asking for a Guinness Stout, but she didn’t think the attempt at humor would play well with this audience. "That would be fine," she said hoping that she liked Campari, whatever that was. While Catherine fixed the drink, Ryan shot a quick glance at her partner. I’m glad I’m driving home, she thought. I wondered what I tasted on her lips. I guess that explains why she looked a little dazed.
"Have you had dinner, Ryan? We’ve waited for you."
"No, I haven’t," she admitted, hoping her stomach did not start to growl.
"Superb," Catherine said with real pleasure, then got up and strode toward what Ryan guessed was the kitchen. As she walked, Ryan took a moment to gaze at Catherine’s elegant clothing. The buttercream yellow slacks and short, square cut jacket looked a bit like suede, but Ryan reasoned that there was no animal that had a hide as soft and supple looking as this, so she assumed the fabric was Ultrasuede. The unbuttoned jacket was collarless, and an even paler yellow silk shell peeked out. The entire ensemble was so perfectly tailored to Catherine’s slim body that Ryan assumed it had been custom made. Gee, I wonder if she changed into that when she got home…I can just imagine what that little number would look like if I wore it during a flight from Italy. You would be able to name the entire menu just from looking at my clothes! she thought, as she considered how easy it was to spill food and drink on your clothing during a bumpy trans-Atlantic flight.
Catherine emerged a moment later and announced that dinner would be ready in half an hour.
"Do you have any dietary restrictions or preferences, Ryan?"
I’m sure you mean, besides Jamie, she thought, a small smile curving her lips. "No, ma’am," she said.
"Excellent. I’m certain that Jamie told you why Jim wanted you to join us. He has some concerns that he wants you to address. But I want us all to have a nice meal and get to know one another first. Is that all right with you?"
"Yes, ma’am," she said with a smile. "That would be lovely."
"Tell us a little bit about yourself, Ryan. Are you from the Bay Area?"
"Yes, my family lives in Noe Valley," she began, but Catherine’s puzzled glance made her elaborate. "That’s a neighborhood that’s also called Eureka Valley. It’s between Castro and Twin Peaks."
"I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of visiting the area," she replied, gracing Ryan with an interested smile.
"There’s not much there unless you’re visiting someone. It’s just a small residential neighborhood. No historical significance."
"I’m sure it’s lovely," Catherine said. "Do you still live with your family, Dear?"
"Yes ma’am. Although Jamie and I have been staying at her house in Berkeley during the week, as I’m sure you know."
Catherine had not known this since neither Jim nor Jamie had shared the information with her, but her unflappable gaze did not reveal this to Ryan. "I see," she said. "Who is at home with you?"
"My father and two of my brothers. I have another brother who lives in an apartment nearby."
"What about your mother?"
"She died when I was seven," Ryan replied neutrally, not one shred of vulnerability showing.
"Oh dear! That’s so young to lose your mother. Who raised you?"
Ryan looked a bit perplexed as she replied, "My father did."
"Without help?" Catherine could not imagine a man being able to raise four children without significant help.
Disclosures - SF4 Page 40