“This is kinda fast.”
“I’m in the fast-food business; this is how I make my money, and this is how I live my life—fast.”
I had been searching for a way to change my life and this would be more than life-changing: this would be forever-changing.
Still, I wondered . . . but I talked myself out of my questions. It was true that I didn’t know this man, but I knew Wyatt better than I’d known any of my past employers.
So we shook hands, and the next day, I called Twin Peaks, apologized for leaving them, and prayed that it worked out with Wyatt because I’d never be able to use Twin Peaks as a reference.
That began my journey of a life with Wyatt . . .
It had been quite a ride—in the beginning. Wyatt had done every bit of what he promised, making me feel like I was the star in my own Pretty Woman movie.
I had my own furnished one-bedroom apartment, and I majored in English at Wyatt’s request, though I thought business management was more appropriate. But he said he wanted his manager to be well rounded, learning language and culture—whatever that meant. Since he was paying the bills, I did what he said, went to school, aced my classes, and during school breaks, I worked by Wyatt’s side.
But it wasn’t all work with Wyatt Spencer. He exposed me to a life that I’d never known existed: we went to New York to see plays on Broadway and to the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, to see the ballet. And right in Philadelphia, we went to the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts to see the Philadelphia Orchestra.
We did all the things that my mother called highbrow, all the things that I’d never really thought someone like Wyatt would enjoy. But he did, and so did I.
But the best part for me . . . was always the shopping sprees.
Never ever did I think I’d get to buy a purse from Louis Vuitton. Or own a pair of Jimmy Choos.
I always told Wyatt that it was too much, but he insisted that not only did it bring a smile to his face, but it was part of the program.
“You have to be glamorous and sophisticated,” he told me. “The way you look is important to what I’m building.”
So I said, “Okay,” and accepted his generosity.
In the beginning, there were moments when I wondered about Wyatt’s motives. I mean, was anybody in the world really this kind?
But I pushed my apprehensions aside because Wyatt did have me working, really learning the business. And never did he try anything with me—not a touch on the hand or a kiss on the lips. Never any impropriety on our overnight trips—we always had separate suites.
So I settled into believing that I’d been blessed with the best of two worlds: a chance to be a career woman, and the opportunity to be cherished by a surrogate father, loved for the very first time in my life by a man.
But what I came to learn was that everything was not what it seemed and now that truth was playing out in my life.
Another shout from the bedroom made me jump, made me come all the way back from my memory.
“That’s not true!” Wyatt yelled again.
I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I did know one truth that the world did not know.
The problem was if I stood up and told that truth, my husband would be in prison for the rest of his life.
Was I willing to do that? Was I willing to give up the man who’d given me everything? Would I be able to live with that? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.
Chapter 21
Okay, Wyatt,” Newt said as the black SUV made a slow turn onto our street. “You have your instructions, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, you want me to stay in the house.”
“I’m not kidding,” Newt said, sounding like he was admonishing a child. “I don’t want you going to your office, don’t go to your restaurants. I don’t even want you going to church.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Wyatt slapped his hands against his thighs. His voice was strained, as if he were working hard to control his rage. He said, “If it’s safe for me to go home, why isn’t it safe for me to go out?”
Wyatt and Newt were in front of me, in the second row of the SUV. But even from where I sat, I could see the muscle beneath his jaw twitching.
“How will they know where I’ll be? I just don’t understand why I’m being treated like a prisoner. I should be able to go where I want. Nobody knows me.”
“It’s just because you’re stressed that you’re not thinking, but do you really think that once your name was released, people didn’t run to Google? They know where you live, they know that you’re the owner of the Cheesesteak Castles, and they know where every single one is located. Hell, they know where Billy goes to preschool,” said Newt.
Those words made my stomach gurgle again.
“Look,” Newt continued. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me; I’m keeping you, Meredith, and Billy safe.”
Wyatt glanced over his shoulder as if Newt had reminded him about his wife and child. I smiled, but that went away as soon as his eyes left mine.
My husband bounced back in his seat and crossed his arms. But after a few moments of silence, he said, “Okay,” in a much calmer tone. “I’ll do what you say. But can we get this resolved soon? My life can’t stay on hold forever. I have a family to take care of.”
“I’ll get this resolved as quickly as I can,” Newt said. “And we’re keeping the security detail with you.”
Wyatt shook his head. “That’s fine if you want to, but I don’t need security. I already . . .”
I cringed and thanked God that Wyatt didn’t finish his thought.
When the SUV rolled to a stop in our driveway, I unhooked Billy from his seat as Wyatt, Newt, and the two guards (one black, one white) who’d rode with us unloaded our luggage.
I’d packed five suitcases when Newt told us that the police were giving us a three-hour heads-up before Wyatt’s name was released. For our safety, the police advised us to spend a few days away from our home.
Never did I believe we’d be back this soon, just a week rather than the months that Newt had told us we might be away.
“You might have to sell your home and move,” he’d even warned.
It seemed that we wouldn’t have to do that—at least not now.
Holding my son’s hand, I followed Wyatt and the men across the walkway. The moment Billy got to our front door, he broke away and dashed inside, heading straight for his playroom, which was in the back, with a wall of windows that looked out onto our pool.
Wyatt led each of the men up the circular staircase to our bedroom, and as I stepped over the threshold, I paused.
I did this often when I entered and took in the opulence that greeted me. It always took me back.
I may have been one of the oldest graduates at twenty-four, but I wore my cap and gown as proudly as any of the twenty-year-old graduates. And after the ceremony, I walked into Serendipity, Wyatt’s favorite restaurant, with my head high and my diploma in my hand.
Of course, Wyatt had a private room set up for my graduation celebration, even though it was going to just be me, Wyatt . . . and my mom.
Yes, my mother.
That was the only thing that might possibly take the sunshine out of this day.
Gloria Harris.
Not that I didn’t love my mother. It had always been just the two of us for my whole life, since I didn’t know my father. It wasn’t that my mother was trying to keep him from me, she just couldn’t tell me his name. At least not exactly. She’d been honest and given me the names of three men who could have fathered me.
“It’s kinda like a multiple-choice test. You can pick an answer, but I don’t know if you’ll be right.”
That was just one of the crazy moments with my mother, but she had really done the best she could. It hadn’t been easy for her; with only an eighth-grade education, only minimum-wage jobs were available to her and she settled mostly for waitress gigs in diners and dives.
It had always been a strug
gle for us, which was why when Wyatt asked me to invite her, there was a part of me that was glad. I wanted her to see that the little she’d done had been enough. I was on my way to being a career woman.
But then, she was Gloria Harris. Did I really want her around my boss?
“There’s my baby!”
I heard her squeal before I saw her. Wyatt and I had just sat down and were checking out the menu, when my mother scurried into the room.
At first, I wondered why she was walking like a geisha. But then I saw the pencil skirt that she wore, so tight, she could only take the tiniest of steps.
Wyatt and I stood at the same time to greet her and she hugged me tight.
“Thanks for coming, Mom,” I said, when we stepped back from our embrace. Then I turned so that we were both facing Wyatt. “This is Mr. Spencer, the man who made this all possible.”
My mother did that little two-step scurry to the other side of the table and embraced Wyatt as if she’d always known him.
“It is so nice to finally meet you.” She held on to his hand as she added, “Thank you for taking care of my baby girl.”
Wyatt’s eyes stayed on my mom. “I can certainly see where she gets her beauty.”
My mom waved her hand in front of her face and . . . was she blushing?
“You go on,” she said, sounding like she was sixteen.
And I wondered . . . wouldn’t it be wonderful if Wyatt and my mom clicked?
From that point, it was really comfortable. As we ate, we chatted, or rather Wyatt did his thing and questioned my mother. And like me, she just fell into it and shared everything: from how she’d raised me in Section 8 housing to how she’d felt like she’d never find success in life or love.
“Well,” Wyatt began. “Maybe I can change all of that.”
That made me pause—was Wyatt interested in my mom?
“Really?” my mother said. “What? Do you have a job for me, too? Are you going to send me to college?” She rested her hand on his arm and giggled like a schoolgirl.
But his expression stayed stiff. “I’m not talking about a job; I think you’ve worked enough.”
“I’ll be working till the day I die.”
He shrugged. “Maybe you won’t.”
My mother and I probably looked like twins the way we stared at Wyatt with questions in our eyes.
Without a word, Wyatt reached into his jacket and pulled out a box.
“Oh,” my mother said, looking from Wyatt to me, and then back to him. “Is that a graduation gift?”
“In a way.”
This was a surprise. I wasn’t expecting yet another gift from Wyatt. He’d already given me a credit card and told me that I had no limit.
As he stood and came around to my side of the table, I imagined what was inside the box—a watch, a necklace, or maybe a diamond tennis bracelet that I saw a year ago but couldn’t bring myself to buy, not even with Wyatt’s money.
But when he knelt beside me and opened the box, my mother gasped. Or maybe I was the one who made that sound.
“Meredith, I have come to love you and I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife.”
Wasn’t I just imagining Wyatt with my mother?
“Oh!” My mother clapped.
But I said nothing, did nothing. Because this was crazy.
Now, color me stupid, but I’d had no idea that Wyatt was interested in me in a romantic way. How could he be? Our relationship was so far to the left on the platonic scale that he really could have been my father.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Wyatt asked.
“Uh” was all I could get out.
“She says yes!” my mother shouted.
Her words made Wyatt smile, though he kept his eyes on me. “I’d like to hear that from Meredith.”
“Uh . . .”
He waited a moment before he asked, “Is that all you have to say?”
My words finally came to me. “Wyatt . . .” I whispered his name. “Maybe we should have talked about this. And not here.” I made a sideward glance toward my mother.
“In front of Gloria?” he asked. “I thought this was the perfect place and the perfect way. I know how important she is to you, and I know that when you and I are married, she’s part of the deal.”
“I am?” My mother pushed back her chair and scurried over to stand behind me.
“I’ll take care of her, too,” Wyatt promised.
“Really?” There was so much joy in my mother’s voice.
With her behind me and Wyatt in front of me, I was trapped.
But how could I feel trapped by the only two people in the world who really knew me? Who really cared about me? If I’d ever been loved, it was only by these two.
While Wyatt stayed on bended knee, I replayed the last two years in my mind; they’d been the best years of my life. And if that was any indication of what my future would be, why would I say no? Except for the fact that . . . I didn’t love him.
And then he asked the question I was thinking. “Don’t you love me, Meredith?”
“Of course she loves you,” my mother answered as if I’d discussed this with her.
“Uh . . .”
My mother bent over and hissed into my ear, “Meredith!”
Inside her tone, I heard all kinds of warnings. And saw all kinds of images—my life with Wyatt, my life without Wyatt.
“You don’t love me,” Wyatt said with his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “I just hoped . . .”
His eyebrows drooped and now there was sadness written all over his face.
That made me touch him for the first time. Made me take his face between the palms of my hands. Made me lean forward and gently press my lips against his. For the first time.
I stayed like that for only a moment, then leaned back. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Wyatt Spencer. I want to be your wife.”
There were tears in his eyes when he slipped that ring on my finger. “I will always take care of you, Meredith. And I will love you forever.”
When he hugged me, I thought about the fact that I wasn’t in love with him in the way I expected to love a man. But while I wasn’t in love, I did love him; so all I needed was a little emotional shift.
I could do that. After all that Wyatt had done for me . . .
“Meredith!”
I blinked and made the nine-year mental trek back to the present, and looked into the eyes of the man who’d once been the centermost of my dreams.
“Why are you just standing there?” Wyatt asked. His eyes were filled with concern. “Are you all right with us coming back here?” he asked, as if my opinion counted.
“Oh, yes.” I nodded. “I was thinking how great it is to be home.”
The worry lines faded from his forehead. “Yeah.” He kissed my cheek, then patted the top of my head.
“So . . .” I looked up as Newt came down the stairs. “I’ll check in with you guys every few hours.” When Newt stood in front of us he said, “Just remember what I said. No—”
Wyatt held up his hand. “No need to repeat it. I’ll stay low-key.”
Newt nodded his approval. “Good, because I don’t need you out there making news if this does go to the state prosecutor.”
Wyatt shrugged and nodded at the same time.
“Okay,” Newt said. “And, if I don’t hear anything from Ferguson or the prosecutor within the next few days, I know we’re home free on that side. We’ll just have to wait for it to die down with the Brown Guardians, but that shouldn’t take too long. Something will happen somewhere else, and all the attention will shift away from us to the next shooting. Hopefully something will happen in Florida and they’ll forget about this little thing here in Pennsylvania.” Newt embraced Wyatt like the longtime buddies they were. Then he turned to me. “Take care of this dude, will you?”
“I’ll try.” He hugged me, too, holding our embrace for one moment past comfortable. I was always the one who pulled away from him.
<
br /> Wyatt closed the door behind his friend. “I’m going to go into the office. Why don’t you go upstairs and unpack.”
As I stepped toward the staircase, I glanced out the windowed wall that covered the entire back of our house. And I paused. Even from that far away, I saw a wineglass and a plate on top of one of the tables by the pool.
“Who’s in the backyard?” I asked Wyatt, wondering if I should be afraid. But even before he answered, I figured it was one of the security guards taking a break and I hoped I hadn’t just gotten someone fired.
He frowned and walked toward the back. I followed him because Billy was back there, too.
But we’d only moved a few feet before Wyatt’s frown turned upside down. And I did just the opposite.
Because it was my mother.
Chapter 22
Wyatt slid the glass doors apart and stepped outside. “Hey, Gloria. What are you doing here?”
The pool chair faced us and she tilted her sunglasses up to give herself a better view. “Did you think I would let my favorite son-in-law and daughter come home without someone here to welcome them?”
As Wyatt leaned down to hug my mother, I rolled my eyes and it wasn’t just because of what she said. I couldn’t believe that while we were in hiding at a hotel that was two steps above a motel, my mother was lounging around our pool like she was in Saint-Tropez.
“Meredith?” My mother said my name as if she were asking a question.
And when all I said was, “Hello,” she swung her long bronzed legs over the side of the chair, stood tall, and planted one hand on her hip.
It was a stance of expectation, like she was waiting for me to give her the same greeting that Wyatt had.
My mother stood there in all of her itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-white-on-black-polka-dot-bikini glory. Looking fabulous, I had to admit. Anyone trying to guess her age would be decades off.
Still, though, she was my mom, and as usual, just a bit past over the top. A fifty-nine-year-old woman needed to be more covered up, no matter how fantastic her body.
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