A Forever Love

by Maggie Marr

  A vise gripped her ribs as Aubrey nodded.

  “Hang tough, big sister. Max loves you and so do I. Change isn’t always a bad thing, it’s just hard to get used to.” Nina walked out of Aubrey’s office.

  She stared out at the rolling hills that led to the Kaw River. What had she done? Had she really believed that Max would never need to know his father? What had seemed for years like a good plan to keep her son safe now seemed like a foolish fairy tale.

  She’d kept pushing off the questions from Max. Dad and Nina were right—she’d been in a solid state of denial, which had allowed her to keep thinking Max was a baby, a child, her little boy, and not an adolescent getting ready to tip into adulthood.

  He did need his father, and of course he would be angry. She only hoped he would understand the choices she’d made, that he wouldn’t become intoxicated with all the glitter and money and power and access that the Travati name provided. That Max wouldn’t forget about his mother and Rockwater Farms and forever leave her for the heady world of New York and finance.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Who was she kidding? He was a Travati. She could hope, but that wouldn’t be the case. Max had his father’s competitive streak as well as the compassion that came from her side. He was a Travati, and he would be in business most likely, no matter what she did. At the very most, she had him for another four years until he was eighteen.

  She walked across the room and opened the office door. How could she convince Max not to reach out to his father, not yet, not now? She needed Max to wait until he was eighteen to contact Justin. Max contacting Justin now was simply too dangerous for her and for Max and for the safe, comfortable life she’d worked so hard to create for them both at Rockwater Farms.

  Her heart hammered. She closed her eyes, pulled in a deep breath, and stood. The thing she remembered most about working with Justin Travati, aside from a desire that had consumed her entire being, was that Justin always got what was his. Please God, don’t let Justin Travati find out about Max.

  *

  While The Red Barn at Rockwater Farms might be one of the best restaurants in America, and potentially would become one of the best restaurants in the world, this place definitely wasn’t easy to get to. Justin’s plane landed at the tiny airport in Lawrence and then drove to Hudson, Kansas, population five thousand.

  Fury pulsed through his heart. This was where his only child lived? He stared out the window at the miles and miles of wide-open space containing nothing but wheat. His lips thinned and his eyebrows pulled tight when they drove into town on Main Street. Backward-looking people in Walmart duds walked along the sidewalks. What kind of education could Max possibly be getting here? What connections was he making? A waste of time and talent for Max to spend his formative years in Hudson, Kansas.

  He checked into his hotel, which was really a motel with a lobby. His room had a musty odor, twin beds, and a view of the courthouse brick wall. He walked toward the other window and pulled back the drapes. He didn’t like this place. He didn’t like Hudson, Kansas, or the people who walked down the street in shorts and tank tops, wearing trucker caps with seed-company logos and athletic shoes. No, the most middle of America he would ever feel remotely comfortable in was Chicago, and even there he sensed a Midwestern familiarity that made him cringe. A backwardness really. People constantly smiled and said hello. Give him a New York state of mind. Keep to yourself. You don’t bump me, and I won’t bump you. We’ll be all good. Even L.A. was a bit too touchy-feely. He didn’t trust a place without seasons.

  Justin pulled his laptop from his bag. He didn’t intend to stay long. Work would be his focus until his nine p.m. seating. He had more information to review about Max and Aubrey and what they were doing out here in the middle of nowhere.

  Of course, once he’d received the file from Roger, Justin remembered that Aubrey was from this tiny town in the middle of Kansas. When he’d hired her, fresh out of business school, she’d by then been six years in the Ivies and he’d thought, erroneously, that a pedigreed education complete with East Coast friends and a job had rinsed this entire background from her blood.

  Obviously he’d been wrong. Once Aubrey discovered her pregnancy, she’d run for home like a salmon swimming upstream. She run away from him and his money and his power. Why? Most women, even professional women such as Aubrey, would have thought a one-night stand resulting in a Travati heir to be their golden ticket to eternal financial security. But not Aubrey. Instead, she’d fled, financed a very difficult business, and spent night and day building a business and raising her son … possibly his son … their son.

  He set his laptop on the desk and walked to the window. Down the street on the other side of the town square, three streets over, kids swarmed around a public pool. Was Max there right now? Was his son actually swimming in that pool with his backward-looking Midwestern friends? Thankfully, aside from the very cheap shirt that his son was wearing in the school picture Roger had found, Max looked good. You could picture him at any East Coast private prep school, which was just exactly where he’d be by the end of summer. Liza was already on it. She had contacted Exeter, Roxbury, Andover. Justin would donate a new multimillion-dollar library if needed, but a Travati would get the best education on the planet. Of that Justin would make certain.

  He wasn’t about to let the opportunities that he’d worked so hard to provide slip by his son. Justin hadn’t attended prep school. He’d scratched and clawed and gotten his start by hustling hard. Junior college and then Fordham. But he came from a long line of shrewd and keen businesspeople, and with a couple of breaks, a touch of insider trading, and some very questionable loans, he was now on top with billions. He was also aboveboard. Money could buy that; money could scrub you clean if you let it, and he had. Sure, you needed to cut some corners to make the fortune, but once he’d amassed his money, he’d gone legit, completely legit.

  He sat on several charitable boards. He was now the crème de la crème, whereas when he graduated college he wouldn’t have been allowed to polish a Fortune 500 CEO’s shoes. Now he was one. Golfed with them. Yachted, dined, played tennis, and vacationed with the business elite. So yes, he was deeply ensconced in the well-heeled set.

  So would be his son.

  He slipped out his phone and pressed 1. “Liza, did you contact the attorneys I wanted you to speak with?”

  “Yes, sir. They’ve begun all the necessary paperwork to file when the test comes back positive.”

  “Excellent.” Justin’s eyes swept around the room. “So you’re telling me this is the only hotel available to me in Hudson? The only thing close to The Red Barn at Rockwater?”

  Liza, who was usually quick to reply, paused. “Well, sir, there is one other place, but I was certain that you wouldn’t want to stay there because—”

  “What’s the other place?”

  “Rockwater Farms has three guest suites.”

  Heat bubbled through Justin’s blood. He squinted his eyes. “Excuse me?”

  She cleared her throat. “Sir, I assumed with the details of your trip that you wouldn’t want to stay at Rockwater Farms …” Her voice trailed off. “I apologize, sir. I think I may have overstepped.”

  And overstepped she had. “Book it. Now. If the rooms are available, book them all for the next three weeks. Use my pseudonym and call me back.” He pressed End Call on his phone. He understood Liza’s logic, why she’d neglected to give him Rockwater Farms as a possibility for what she thought were all the right reasons. But Liza was wrong. He’d much rather be in the same camp as his enemy. Know them, stay with them, see how they actually worked and lived and played. Personal knowledge was always much more valuable than speculation or what was gleaned through a third party.

  Aubrey had taken what was his. Stolen from him his very flesh and blood and not had the decency to let him know he had a son in the world? With such an egregious offense to him and his family, the very least she could do was open up her h
ome to him. He supposed it might be nice for Max to have both his parents in one place, even for a short while. At least before Justin took his son back to New York.

  Chapter 4

  Camp Willow was only ninety-six miles from Rockwater Farms, but for Aubrey it felt as though she were driving to Alaska. The car was silent. Max sat beside her in the front seat, but his eyes were glued to the screen of his cell phone, which was the one concession Aubrey had made to the fact that Max was no longer a little kid. She turned off I-70 and took the frontage road north. The terrain was hilly for Kansas, lush and green and not at all what you’d expect, which was what, in part, at least according to Nina, made Camp Willow so fabulous. The lush timber, the cabins, the lake, the long hikes, canoes, campfires, and friends. Plus the food had been pretty awesome from what Aubrey remembered, but she’d simply missed Mom too much to stay. She glanced at Max. Nina was right; he wouldn’t miss her. He’d be fine at Camp Willow.

  “So listen, buddy, there are a couple of things we need to talk about.”

  Max grunted but didn’t pull his gaze away from the screen of his phone.

  She reached out her hand, anticipating the groan that came from Max’s mouth when he placed his phone into her palm. Except for the computer lab he could visit for half an hour each day, he wouldn’t have access to electronic devices while at Camp Willow. Snail mail and weekly phone calls with Mom, unless of course he asked the camp supervisor for a special call home.

  She placed Max’s phone in the cup holder and turned off the frontage road onto a poorly maintained partially hardtop, partially gravel road. Nothing like waiting until the end of the trip to have an important conversation. Nina would tell her just how horrible a job Aubrey had done today because of her choice to put off talking to Max about his dad.

  Her stomach twisted and her palms felt moist against the steering wheel. “I talked to Grandpa last night.”

  Her eyes flicked from the road toward Max. He was truly half Travati, because his face didn’t flinch. He kept his gaze glued to the gravel road. He lifted his thumb to his mouth and bit a hangnail, the only giveaway that he was bothered or nervous about the topic.

  “He mentioned that you had questions.”

  Again no motion from Max. Only silence greeted her words. Wow, this was worse than the first time she’d discussed sex with Max, the mechanics of which he’d been fully aware of, having spent his entire childhood growing up on a farm.

  “Max? Do you have questions?”

  “He answered them.”

  Aubrey squirmed and pulled at the seat belt strap. She deserved Max’s silent and sullen response, didn’t she? For the past decade, whenever Max had questions about his dad she’d told him as close to nothing as possible. Why now would he think she would start to answer his questions?

  “Max.” Aubrey softened her voice and downshifted. The Jeep took a tight turn around Lake Willow. The pavement ended, and they bounced onto gravel. The entrance to the camp would come up soon on her left. “I want you to know that I’ll answer any questions you have about your—” She swallowed. She didn’t want to say the word to Max. To say it was to acknowledge it and give it power. “Your—”

  “You can’t even say it.” Disgust tinged Max’s voice. He shook his head and his gaze landed on Aubrey.

  Those damn Travati eyes.

  “My father, my dad, the guy you’d be happy if I never met.”

  “Max, that’s not true. I do want you to meet him, I do want—”

  “Really? You’ve spent my entire life pretending he doesn’t exist. You won’t talk about him, you dodge my questions. His name isn’t even on my birth certificate.”

  “You saw your birth certificate?”

  “Mom, seriously, yes, I’ve seen my birth certificate.” He leaned forward and lifted his backpack onto his lap and unzipped the front flap.

  “Max, it’s not that I don’t want you to meet your father. I just always wanted you to meet him at the right time, when you were older, more formed, more—”

  “Why?”

  Her heart kicked in her chest. How to answer that question? Honestly? Because he could easily take you away from me? Because he has a billion dollars and an army of lawyers, but I’m concerned he doesn’t have a soul? Because I don’t want you contaminated by the lifestyle he leads? No. No she wouldn’t say any of those things to her son with the confusion in his eyes and the hint of judgment edging his face.

  “Because I thought you’d be better served meeting him once you’d determined for yourself what kind of life you want to lead.” Aubrey pulled the steering wheel, turned left, and drove under the arched sign painted sky blue and golden yellow that read Camp Willow.

  Max unzipped his backpack and tucked his phone into the front pocket. Aubrey said nothing. He wasn’t supposed to have his phone, but right now, at this moment, she didn’t have the energy for that battle. She stopped the Jeep and pulled the brake. Swarms of boys and girls with their parents walked about the campground in search of their cabins. Across the lot she spotted Dolby, Max’s best friend since kindergarten.

  “Max, I’m sorry, I just … There’s so much about your dad. Things you need to know, things I need to tell you—”

  “What? Like he’s a billionaire and I’m the only living heir to the fortune?”

  Air whooshed from her lungs, and Aubrey’s mouth went dry. Words wouldn’t form. The very bits of information she’d wanted to keep from Max he now knew.

  “Did Grandpa tell you that?”

  “Did Grandpa? Mom, come on. Seriously, you walk around thinking I’m like seven years old.”

  Did she? She hoped, maybe wished, sometimes even pretended when Max was sound asleep that he was still her little boy with chubby fists that could be pleased with a slice of apple.

  “No, of course not.” She pushed at her curls and looked into the rearview mirror. “I just …” She sighed. “Max, your dad is just so different than the way we’ve chosen to live our lives. I mean, he’s in Manhattan, and he works all the time and—”

  “He has three brothers, owns the best clubs and sportswear business in the world, has a huge stake in Apple and a gigantic piece of the Yankees. Yeah, Mom, I can totally see how I’d really hate all that.” Max shook his head and reached for the door handle. He looked back at her. “I have uncles, Mom. A dad. People you’ve never let me meet. Never wanted me to meet. I’ve lived out here in the middle of nowhere because you wanted me to, because I thought I had to, and now I find out that I’ve got a billion dollars?”

  Her eyes hardened. “Your father has a billion dollars.”

  “Okay, fine, I find out I have a father and he has a billion dollars and I’m his only son. Okay. Whatever, Mom.”

  She was losing him. She was absolutely losing him to the glitz and the glam and the no-substance life that called for exponential expenditures and girls and clubs and drugs— She reached out her hand and grasped his shoulder. “Max, I know it looks like fun, I do. But honey, I lived that life for a while. I … I …” She stumbled over her words. “I worked with your father and I know who he is and how he lives, and I’m telling you, sweetheart, it’s not a way to make a life. I wanted you to be ready for all that. The money and—”

  Max’s nostrils flared. He’d been mad before. He was pissed when he was grounded or had his phone pulled for breaking the rules or being disrespectful, but the anger that flashed in her son’s eyes that afternoon was different. Hard and cold. She gently released his upper arm. The muscle in his jaw tensed.

  “You know what, Mom? You keep telling yourself that it was because you wanted me to be ready, but I’ve kind of figured out the truth. About a lot of things. None of this was about me. Keeping this secret, not telling me about my family?” His eyes pierced her soul and her blood chilled. “No, Mom, this, keeping me away from my dad? That was all about you.”

  Aubrey’s gut flipped and her breath caught in her lungs. Max thrust open his door and jumped from the Jeep. He slung his backp
ack over his shoulder and, without a backward glance, slammed the door.

  Her heart cracked in two. She leaned back in her seat and for a split second shut her eyes. The decision had seemed so simple when she fled New York for Hudson. There’d been few choices, no gray, everything had appeared so clear to her. Justin hadn’t wanted her, he wouldn’t want their baby, neither she nor a baby would have fit into his lifestyle. She’d come home, had a son, built a business. But now?

  She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Down-turned mouth, heavy eyelids, sadness in her eyes, purple rings beneath her lower lashes. Now nothing was clear. Everything appeared gray. In hindsight, all her decisions seemed nearly unfit, selfish, and unkind. A rough summer, Nina had said. Luck was on Aubrey’s side if it was only a rough summer. With the mess she’d managed to create, Aubrey guessed her relationship with Max could be rough for the rest of her life.

  *

  Justin’s accommodations at Rockwater Farms were luxurious in comparison to the motel in downtown Hudson. The suite had an upstairs with two bedrooms and two baths and a deck while the downstairs had a sitting area, a kitchenette, a dining area, and a private patio. The rough-hewn wood floors were warmed by thick farmhouse rugs in earthy colors. You walked into a wide-open room with rafters high above and floor-to-ceiling windows. A plush leather sofa and lush chairs were on one side, across from a fireplace. One set of glass doors led to a private garden with fruit-bearing trees, the fairy lights that were strung on their branches just coming to life.

  The second set of doors opened onto a private patio with a fence, a fire pit, and a hammock hanging between two giant trees. Carvings by Roy Hayes, Aubrey’s artisan father, decorated the suite. Upstairs, a salvaged barn door slid along the wall to reveal the master bedroom and a giant four-poster brass bed with a duvet and handmade quilt designed with interlocking circles. A fan hung from the ceiling and slowly spun, cooling the early-evening air. The windows were open and the scent of lavender and grass and an earthy smell fresh and unknown in Manhattan drifted through the window. Just beyond the limestone path and fairy lights was the special entrance to The Red Barn restaurant for the guests who chose to stay at Rockwater Farms.