She gathered her files and stuffed them into her briefcase. “You sign and initial it for me.” Sarah reminded her of herself. She must reward Sarah for her efforts.
On schedule two days later, Lillian was ensconced in Della’s newly refurbished apartment, holding a Bic in one hand and a pack of Winstons in the other.
“Can’t smoke,” she said.
“Now, let’s get one thing straight, girly. My life is my own. You know I won’t quit smoking, and I won’t quit drinking. I’m not changing a hair. Don’t forget, as old as I am, I’m on a gravy train. If you can’t live with that, then I suggest we make different arrangements.”
“My, my, we’re testy.”
“Yes, we are, aren’t we?”
“I’d like you around a while,” she grumbled, frustrated. “You know cigarettes and booze are your kiss of death.”
“So be it. Don’t fret, I’ll be around long enough to get on your nerves.” Lillian laughed. “You gonna send me out on the patio every time I want a ciggie?”
“No, you’re not going to smoke at all.”
“Lordy, since you got so successful, you really throw your weight around. I’ll just get my own place. We’ll visit.”
She enjoyed bantering with her mother. At least, Lillian was alive and feisty enough to banter.
“I’m going out on the patio to smoke.”
Della followed. A warm, gentle breeze blew, and the surf in the distance rolled rhythmically like a snare drum. She told Lillian about the threats, the break-in, her feud with Carrie, Jack Davis, and how she engineered Rick Courtney’s arrest.
Lillian sat through it all with a dumbfounded expression on her crinkly old face. “I think I need a drink,” she said.
“No drinks, I’m getting food,” she shot back with a grin.
She disappeared inside, returning shortly with a tray of sandwiches and iced tea. Lillian sipped from a flask she’d obviously hidden in her sweater pocket. Della shook her head.
“Now, we’re cookin’, sister. You can have that iced tea; it’ll keep you up and peeing all night, while I sleep like a baby.” Lillian rubbed her hands together like a kid ready to dig into the cookie jar. “This might just be fun after all.”
“Don’t think this drinking and smoking is going to be a routine around here. You’ve got some changing to do, Mama.”
Lillian laughed heartily. “Don’t we all!”
“I love having you here.” A warm feeling swept through her, seeing her mother acting like her old self. “I think I’d like you to be my best friend.”
“We may have come out of the closet, but I’m not the kind you want strapped around your social life. I don’t always come off too good.” Lillian giggled.
“You’re welcome wherever I go. I just can’t believe we’re sitting here like this! Look what it’s taken.”
“I’m pretty ashamed of myself for being so hard on you all those years, but I didn’t know what to do with you. I was glad I kept you, though.” They sat together, laughing, reminiscing and enjoying each other’s company.
“Did you know,” Della said after a long silence, listening to the surf, “that all I wanted was for you to be proud of me? All I can remember is you pushing me away. You drove me crazy.”
“Why on earth would you want to impress me? I’ve always been ashamed of who I was. I never wanted you stuck in my rut. I got off on the wrong foot and never recovered. At least, you had a chance. If I’d been honest about your father, you’d have stood a better chance. We were wrong.”
“It’s too late for all that,” she said. “You and I have time to make up for everything.”
Lillian gazed into her eyes and said, “What about Steven? Are you doing okay about him?”
“No, but I will. I’ve promised myself.”
28
Carrie stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her blonde hair had been perfectly coiffed, her makeup flawless, her button-down ankle-length black sheath with a large collar pulled up to frame her face was elegant, but inside she quaked at the thought of meeting with Phillip Henshaw. Della would be of no help to her now. Phillip’s last hope was Steven’s proxy. She picked up an atomizer of 24 Faubourg and lavished herself with the scent.
Mildred knocked lightly on Carrie’s bedroom door, announcing Phillip’s arrival. Carrie drew in a breath. The very sound of his name sent shivers through her. Bracing herself, she slowly walked from her bedroom to the winding staircase. With a hand on the rail, she measured each step of her descent.
Phillip stood below, looking up at her. His face was drawn, haggard-looking, actually. The spare tire around his waist had all but disappeared. The stress of the past several weeks had taken its toll on him, making him a shadow of his recent self.
Midway, she stopped, stared at Phillip’s smiling face and was struck by Steven’s strong resemblance to Phillip. She’d never noticed it before. How could she have been so foolish? She would do whatever it took to keep this secret.
He took her arm when she reached the bottom of the stairs. He led her into the study, the room he favored over the solarium. He was allergic to her beautiful plants. It figured.
“You know where the bar is. Help yourself.” She sat in her power seat behind the desk.
He opened the double oak doors to a fully-stocked wet bar. She watched him as he searched for the right glass and his favorite scotch. He poured himself a stiff one, no ice.
“Come out from behind that desk and sit with me.” He gestured to the leather couch. “I’m not talking with you acting like her royal highness. I want you eyeball-to-eyeball.”
She laughed. “You always did have a problem with women holding it over you, didn’t you, Phillip?”
He smiled. “If you must know, I prefer them under me, my dear.”
She remembered him over her many years ago. Her attraction to him at the time was certainly no mystery. Phillip Henshaw had charisma. When she was younger, his plans for her career, the promises of stardom and a world tour after a hit album drew her into his web.
Sitting next to her, he said, “That’s better. Seems like old times.”
“Hardly, Phillip. We both know why you’re here. So, dispense with the small talk and say what you came to say.”
He held up his glass. “To an even playing field.”
Quietness pervaded the room. Her scent clashed with his. He always did wear too much aftershave. She settled back in her seat.
If Della convinced Steven to side with her, Phillip would go to jail, and Carrie didn’t think he’d do well in the poky. Steven’s true identity was one secret the world and her son must never know. If Della wanted to expose her trashy past, that was her business; she had nothing to do with Carrie or Steven. Carrie would simply deny any knowledge of the affair. Still, there would be gossip, and how would Steven react?
“Phillip, don’t go ballistic on me, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to help you.” She held her breath.
“What?” He jerked, sloshing some of his drink onto the leather couch. He ignored the spill. “What do you mean?”
“Della holds the trump card.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I thought so, too, but you see, my dear husband made sure she was protected. He left her more shares in the company than I knew about. How he did it, I don’t know yet. But I intend to find out. With Steven’s help, they outvote me. If Steven, Della, and I pooled our shares together, we’d have enough to monopolize the company. But that’ll never happen. Not now.”
“Then, I have no choice but to get to Steven.”
“That’s not an option, if you want me to help you. We must stop Della. She’s the one who poses the problem.”
“And how do you propose that, my dear? Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Oh?” Her curiosity was up.
“I hired thugs to scare the hell out of her. They made a dozen threatening phone calls, even broke into her place and busted it up a bit.”
“Phil
lip, this coup was strictly to do with obtaining shares. There was to be no violence. How could you?”
“For chrissake, knock off the drama. Nobody hurt her. I just wanted her off my back.”
“A lot of good it did you! When this is over, I’m selling my shares and getting the hell out. I want nothing more to do with Gates International. It’s only because you’re Steven’s father–which I still find abominable–that I’ve done as much to help you as I have.”
“I can’t believe you find my being his father so repulsive.”
“I can’t even fathom it! The mere thought of it is so outrageous, I get sick to my stomach. Steven will never forgive me. I’ll lose him. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Her voice rose. “You brought this whole damned mess on yourself. You lied to me, you son of a bitch. You’re the thug.” She bolted from her seat and paced the room. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this! You should have stayed out of my life.”
“You’re so full of it. You’re the one who came running to me to help you get rid of Della. You tried screwing up everyone’s life. How easily you forget when your little world is threatened!”
He rose, refilled his glass, and started guzzling. “Since we’ve run out of options, I have but one choice. I know–”
“I don’t want you calling Steven. He’s not your son. He’s a Gates, and that’s that.”
“Then, get it together.”
“I’ve tried. I called Steven. He wants a board agenda. I can’t give him a phony. He’d find out and never forgive me. Della’s threatened to call him to get his votes. He’d give them to her if he knew we were out to harm her in any way. He loves her, you prick. Don’t you get it?”
“I get it. But I’m not going to jail for anyone.” Phillip was drinking hard now, refilling his glass at the bar. “You need to help Rick, too. If he talks, I’m finished. We need to get him a lawyer. He’s just a gopher. I’m sure if he led the boys downtown to his connections, they’d cut a deal.”
“You get him a lawyer. Use all that money you’ve taken from your clients.” Her heart pounded furiously. “I said I’d help you inside the company, but that’s where the buck stops.”
Phillip went to her desk, sat down, pulled the Rolodex open and started flipping through the cards.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m looking for my son’s phone number. I’m calling to tell him the truth and ask for his help.”
“Like hell you are!” She lunged over him and pushed the Rolodex off the desk. The cards broke loose and spewed onto the floor. But it was too late. Phillip had Steven’s phone number in his hand. He slapped her, hard. She felt her face sting, like tiny needles stabbing her from her right eye down to her chin.
He started punching the numbers on the phone, while holding her down on his lap with his free hand.
She, still struggling, pulled open the pencil drawer and grabbed her pistol. He grasped her arm, lifted it so the gun was pointing to the ceiling.
“Give me that card,” she said, struggling more fiercely.
“Only if you’ll call Steven right now and tell him the truth.”
Desperate, she broke free from his grip, pointed the gun at his heart. “I know how to use this. Drop the phone.”
He laughed. “Jesus, Carrie, put that piece of shit away. Steven’s going to find out sooner or later. I’ve documented everything about our relationship and his birth. It’s all in my safe deposit box. You don’t think I’d just let this go by without covering my ass, do you?”
“You son of a bitch! You were going to tell him, no matter what it means to me?”
He grabbed her arm, and they struggled. The gun went off with a deafening blast. She felt a sharp pain in her chest. She didn’t know who had been hit, her or Phillip--until she saw his eyes.
Her heart thundered in her ears. She began to shake as the fearful images of her future built in her mind. In a mere ten seconds, her life as she knew it was ruined. She sprang to her feet, grabbed Phillip’s arm and pulled with every ounce of strength she had. “Get up, you bastard! Get up!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Phillip’s body rolled off the chair and hit the floor with a dull thud. Carrie fell to her knees, shaking him.
“Please, Phillip! Please!” She screamed against his still chest, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re ruining my life!”
A loud knock awakened Della. She grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed and, looking and feeling like a rag, went first to Lillian’s room and peeked in. She was sound asleep. Following a second, more forceful knock, she hurried down the hall. A cry of surprise broke from her lips when she saw him through the peephole. “Steven!”
She opened the door, gasped at his drained expression, then pulled him inside.
“I suppose it’s okay for you to see your sister looking like she’s just been tackled by an army of guerillas?”
He stood in front of her, tilted her chin. “You look beautiful.” He took her in his arms and held her tightly. She was torn by conflicting emotions. He was her brother, yet the love she felt for him was still the same as before she discovered Wes was their father. She couldn’t shake her feelings.
“We need to talk.” He led her by the elbow to the couch.
“What brings you back to town?”
He bowed his head. “It’s Mom.” He paused, looked up, took her hand in his. “She shot Phillip last night. He’s dead.”
“What?” Della couldn’t believe her ears. “What happened?”
“They got into a fight over me.”
“You?”
“He wanted to call me and tell me he was my real father. That he and my Mom had an affair.”
Stunned, her mind reeled.
“I can’t believe that Wes isn’t my dad.” He bowed his head and clenched his hands.
Steven wasn’t her brother. They could be. She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. He was hurting. She saw the pain in his eyes, felt it in his touch.
“Oh, Steven, he’s your dad. He raised you, loved you.” She paused. “What I don’t understand is, if she shot Phillip to keep him quiet, why did she tell you?”
“She tried to make me believe she wanted to tell me, but after five minutes of crying about being taken in on suspicion of murder, she broke down and told me the whole story. She thinks her life is over. Her attorney tried to keep her quiet, but he couldn’t stop her. She feels she’s done everything wrong, that she’s ruined all our lives.”
“This is so unbelievable! I’m in a state of shock.” Squeezing his hand, she said, “Did Wes know?”
He shook his head. “Mom said she didn’t find out herself until recently.”
“This whole thing is just too bizarre.”
“Mom says she’d like to see you, says she’s sorry for how she’s treated you, and she felt terrible Phillip sent his goons out to tear your place apart–”
“Did they make the calls too?”
He nodded.
“All this time, I thought it was Jack Davis threatening me. But Phillip makes more sense.”
“She’s going to give us her proxy, said we should do Dad proud. That’s going to be up to you. You know what I want to do.”
“I’m not ready to run that company, but someday I will be.”
He ran his fingers across her cheek. “Now, I know how you felt about your mom and no father. It was so easy, trying to help you make sense of your life when mine all seemed so perfect. Now I’m in the same boat as you. What a mess! It’s me who’s got some things to work out now.”
“Want to work them out together?” She was feeling true joy for the first time in weeks. She and Steven would be together after all.
“For the rest of my life.” He wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m tired of you kissing me like a sister. Show me how you used to do it.” He kissed her, full on the mouth.
She nuzzled her face against his neck. “I love you, Steven. I’ve never stopped.”
L
illian cleared her throat.
Della glanced up at her mother standing at the entrance to the living room. She broke away from Steven.
“What’s going on in here? That wasn’t a family kind of kiss.”
“We’re not family, Mama.”
“Since when?”
“Since never.” Della pulled him into her arms, kissed him again, then looked up at her mother, who stood with her arms akimbo, shaking her head. “I’ll explain everything in detail later,” she said.
Scratching her head, Lillian shuffled into the kitchen. “This I gotta hear...”
###
Coming September 2012
from Knight Romance Publishing
CONFLICTS OF THE HEART
By Julie Michele Gettys
A shocking ultimatum and a devastating divorce send
a young woman and her five-year-old autistic son
back to her hometown to start a new life.
JulieMichelegettys.com
Della Page 32