Closer Than She Thinks

by Meryl Sawyer

  “Clay, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Wyatt, what are you doing here so late?” Clay asked. It was well after midnight and his mind was on overload from everything Maree and Dante had told him. He didn’t want to deal with his brother-in-law right now.

  Wyatt had been waiting for him in the wood-paneled lobby of the Mayfair Club. Photographs of krewes who had won awards for their Mardi Gras floats decorated the walls. Early photographs showed floats that were laughably primitive when compared with the elaborate floats of today. From the far end of the lobby came the faint sound of voices. The bar was still open, but the lobby was deserted.

  “Jake Williams is nothing like his father,” Wyatt said. “He’s still digging into Duvall Importing records.”

  “So?”

  Wyatt stabbed the air in front of Clay’s face with his finger. “So, he’ll find out about our scheme sooner or later.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Clay kept walking toward the bar. “Duvall Importing is part of TriTech now. There’s not much he can do.”

  “I guess you’re right. I still can’t help worrying.”

  Clay walked into the pub-style bar with his brother-in-law. He waved to the two old-timers leaning on the bar and chatting. They’d been friends of his grandfather, important men in their day, but now they didn’t have anything better to do than hang around the club and drink.

  “Two cognacs,” he called to the bartender. He didn’t have to say Le Paradis. Joseph had been tending bar at the Mayfair Club for as long as Clay could remember. He knew exactly what each member drank.

  “There’s another problem,” Wyatt said as they sat down in one of the red leather booths. “Phoebe.”

  Clay almost felt sorry for Wyatt. For years, Wyatt had been in the middle between Clay and Phoebe. Wyatt ran interference for the whole dysfunctional LeCroix family. Hattie LeCroix was a bitch who didn’t care about anyone, and her husband, Gordon, survived by working nonstop and spending the rest of his time on the golf course where Hattie couldn’t pester him.

  Wyatt constantly explained or apologized for one family member to another. It was a family joke that Wyatt should have been a shrink instead of an accountant. He’d changed a lot since he’d been young and Hattie had forced Gordon to send him to military school.

  Joseph delivered the cognac in crystal snifters etched with a bold MC for Mayfair Club. Clay took a sip, savoring the ultrasmooth Le Paradis, thinking it was worth every penny and waiting for Wyatt to apologize for Phoebe.

  “There’s no easy way to say this.” Wyatt hadn’t touched his drink. “Phoebe wants a divorce.”

  “What?” Clay said the word so loudly that the men at the bar turned toward them. “It’s a joke, right?”

  Clay had told Alyssa that he was getting a divorce. It was a ploy to smooth things over between them. Once they were lovers again, Clay was convinced he could persuade Alyssa that his marriage was nothing more than a marriage of convenience. He had absolutely no intention of splitting his fortune with his wife.

  “Phoebe isn’t kidding.” Wyatt knocked back his cognac in a single gulp. “She’s in love with someone else.”

  Clay didn’t believe Phoebe was serious, although she’d managed to convince her brother. She’d been in love with Clay since they were in high school. She’d gone to extraordinary lengths to trap him into marriage. Over the years, she’d continually cheated on him—to make him jealous.

  “Tell Phoebe to get a lawyer, a good lawyer,” Clay replied, determined to call her bluff.

  “She’s hired Mitchell Petersen.”

  Clay swore under his breath. His wife had hired the best divorce attorney in the city. What was she up to?

  “One more thing, Clay. There’s something I need you to do for me.”

  Clay knew he couldn’t refuse. When he’d come to Wyatt, desperate to save his company, his brother-in-law had put him onto the scheme that had saved Duvall Imports. “Sure. What is it?”

  “Don’t say one word to my parents about this divorce. You know how crazy my mother can get. Hattie adores you. She’ll do anything to keep Phoebe from divorcing you.”

  “I won’t mention it,” he replied, still trying to come to grips with the possibility Phoebe really did intend to dump him. “Hattie’s a little crazy at times.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “How’s she doing?” Jake whispered to Alyssa.

  It was early evening two days after Aunt Thee had been hospitalized. They’d moved her from the ICU to a private room. Alyssa had hardly left her side, and Jake stopped by each evening to keep her company.

  “She’s better, and she keeps trying to talk, but her voice is raspy from having the tube down her throat.”

  “It probably hurts a lot.”

  Alyssa signaled for him to step into the hall with her. “I have been able to do some work. When Aunt Thee is sleeping, I’ve been sketching new designs, and going over the proposals for the winter show.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  She couldn’t help thinking how understanding Jake could be. He’d been very supportive, something she wouldn’t have imagined considering their first meeting in Florence.

  A delivery boy walked down the hall, an enormous vase of roses in each arm. He stopped outside Aunt Thee’s room.

  “Are those for Theodora Canali?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “She’s asleep. If you give them to me, I’ll take them inside later.”

  He put down the two vases and left. She wondered who would be sending such extravagant arrangements. She hadn’t phoned her aunt’s friends in Italy, so it couldn’t be any of them. Jake had already brought a lovely bouquet, and she’d purchased an orchid plant, her aunt’s favorite, in the gift shop.

  She took the small cards off the spiked card holder in each vase and read them. “They’re both from Clay.” She spoke with light bitterness. “He doesn’t even know my aunt. They’ve never met.”

  “They’re really for you.”

  “Then he’s wasting his money. Doesn’t he understand the meaning of the word ‘no’?”

  “Do you want my opinion?”

  “If you insist.”

  He chuckled, but there was something unsettling about the way he was looking at her. “Clay Duvall has had everything go his way from the moment he was born. It’s hard for him to accept anything else. He has the nothing-can-touch-us confidence of the rich.”

  “I suppose.” She wondered if Clay really was in love with her—not that it would change her mind—or did he see her as a challenge?

  “I’d better be going,” he said. “I’ve got a business dinner at Emeril’s. If it’s not too late, I’ll come back when it’s over.”

  “Knock ’em dead,” she told him.

  He walked away, his jacket hitched over his shoulder, dangling from his thumb, and she watched, thinking of Clay. Men’s clothes were designed for bodies like Clay’s. Lank, lean. Jake was a shade too tall, a bit too muscular, but infinitely more masculine, sexier.

  Aunt Thee didn’t know Clay, but she knew what had happened with the baby. Clay hadn’t openly accused Alyssa, but he hadn’t defended her either. Aunt Thee had just met Jake, but she had taken to him immediately. The beautiful bouquet he’d brought last night had made her aunt’s eyes sparkle. She’d been too ill to talk, but Alyssa knew her well enough to realize how much Aunt Thee liked Jake.

  Jake didn’t seem to realize he was moving into their lives with amazing ease. Alyssa kept telling herself that becoming close to someone you worked with wasn’t a good idea, but she seemed powerless to stop it. In Italy, she would have had many friends to see her through this ordeal, but here she felt alone and vulnerable. It was comforting to have Jake’s support.

  At the far end of the corridor, just as he was about to disappear from view, Jake turned and waved with a grin. He had a melt-your-heart smile, she thought, waving back. No wonder Aunt Thee couldn’t resist him.

  She tiptoed int
o the room, carrying one vase at a time, and placed them where Aunt Thee could see the flowers. Closing the door behind her to keep out the noise in the hall during visiting hours, Alyssa sat down beside her bed. There was just enough light coming from the bank of machines monitoring Aunt Thee’s condition for Alyssa to sketch.

  Ideas came quickly—for a change—and she had over half a dozen new pieces of jewelry in her sketch pad before she checked her watch and realized two hours had elapsed. No one had come in to check on her aunt. Typical, she thought. The crisis in medical care meant the nurses were overworked. If there had been a critical change in her aunt’s condition, the machines would have alerted the nurses at the nurses’ station.

  But if her aunt had been thirsty or uncomfortable, no one would have known. Alyssa assured herself that staying beside Aunt Thee was the only way to make certain she was taken care of properly. She didn’t want her aunt to suffer for one moment, so she’d kept the bedside vigil, sleeping sitting up in the chair and going home only to shower and change.

  Alyssa heard her aunt trying to talk and jumped up. “Do you need something? Should I call the nurse?”

  Aunt Thee slowly shook her head. “You … I need …”

  Alyssa bent closer. “Yes?”

  “I need … to tell … you … something.”

  Her aunt had been trying to talk to her for two days now. Alyssa kept putting her off, believing it could wait until her aunt’s throat had healed. Now, though, she seemed frantic.

  “What is it?”

  Aunt Thee motioned for Alyssa to help her sit more upright. She adjusted the pillows behind Aunt Thee’s back, taking care not to dislodge the IV attached to her right arm.

  “Better?”

  Aunt Thee nodded, then took a deep breath. “I—I want you … to know something.”

  “Can’t it wait? You shouldn’t be talking yet.”

  “No. I’ve waited too long.”

  The ominous note in her voice caused Alyssa to brace herself. She had the disturbing thought she would remember this moment forever.

  “My brother … Robert Rossi …”

  “What about my father?” she asked, amazed to discover the image of her father was nothing more than a blurry, watercolor memory of a dark-haired man with amber eyes like Aunt Thee’s.

  “My brother, Robert … Robert Rossi met your mother when she was a sophomore at Newcomb College. He fell for her … well, what can I say? He was so head over heels in love with her that he asked me how to make Pamela Ardmore love him.”

  “Why didn’t she love him?”

  “Who knows? They’d begun dating that spring, but your mother moved out to the Delcambre Resort on Gulf Shores to work during the summer.” Her tone implied something terrible had happened there.

  “What happened?”

  “Your mother met someone else at the resort.” She gazed at Alyssa as if she had more to say but couldn’t bring herself to say it. Finally, she continued. “Well, you were the result of a summer … affair.”

  “A summer affair? Are you saying …” She broke off, searching for words to express herself. Had she heard what she thought she’d heard?

  “Robert Rossi was not your father.”

  Robert Rossi, the man who’d loved her so much, the man she’d called Daddy, was not her father. She was the result of a summer affair. An emotional vise cinched around her chest, causing a sharp pain and bringing her dangerously close to tears.

  “I’m so sorry, dear. I should have told you years ago.”

  “Who is my father?” Alyssa whispered the question, positive if she spoke normally, she’d start to cry.

  “A young man from New Orleans who played the drums in a rock band that performed on weekends at the resort. Your father loved your mother so much,” Aunt Thee continued, heartfelt emotion in every word. “He didn’t confess he was already engaged.”

  “Why not?”

  “Thirty years ago … even today, parents manipulate their children. Your father loved your mother, but he didn’t have the courage to cross his parents.”

  A host of conflicting emotions warred inside her. Anger, sadness, and above all, an acute sense of betrayal. Her mother had loved a man enough to conceive a child, but he hadn’t had the guts to marry her. “Mother could have …”

  “Yes, she could have had an abortion, but she didn’t. Robert called me to tell me what he was going to do. He knew your mother was pregnant, but he wanted to marry her anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Robert adored your mother, and she came to love him. They had a happy marriage.” She reached for Alyssa’s hand, and she took her aunt’s frail hand. “They both loved you very much. Never doubt that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “Guilt. Plain and simple. I felt tremendously guilty about not adopting you myself after your parents died, but I was living in Italy and Charles had just been diagnosed with Parkinson’s.”

  “A young child would have been too much. I understand. You called me each month to see how I was, and you never forgot my birthday.” Alyssa didn’t tell her that no one else remembered. Why make her feel any worse?

  “No. A child would not have been too much. I just thought you’d be better off …”

  “In America.”

  There was a long, bewildering silence, then Aunt Thee said, “No. I thought you’d be better off with your real father.”

  The words detonated on impact, siphoning the air from her lungs. The room slammed to an abrupt halt. The dim lights now seemed unnaturally bright. Sound ceased. She saw her aunt’s lips moving, but the words didn’t register.

  Uncle Gordon was her father. Memories rippled through her thoughts, then crystallized on a single memory, the day she came to live with the LeCroix family. They had been strangers to her; she’d never met any of them before the funeral the previous day.

  Phoebe looked amazingly like her, but from the first moment, Phoebe had made it clear Alyssa wasn’t welcome. Wyatt had been friendlier in a loud, boisterous way. Hattie and Gordon LeCroix had regarded her with tight-lipped silence.

  Even though she was young, Alyssa had known something was terribly wrong. She was shown into their house, a home much grander than her parents’, and taken to a small bedroom off the kitchen. It wasn’t until later that she learned there were two empty bedrooms upstairs where the family lived.

  It didn’t matter. She’d gotten the unspoken message. She could live in this house, but she would never be part of the family. The world around her had seemed so empty, so threatening—so intent on betraying her. Even though he must have known she was feeling isolated, vulnerable, and desperately needed comfort, Gordon LeCroix had tried to be friendly, but he’d allowed Hattie to drive him away.

  “Alyssa, Alyssa.” Her aunt’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Are you all right?”

  She mustered the strength to nod. “Gordon LeCroix is my father?” she asked, praying it wasn’t true, needing for it not to be the truth.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “But you said he was a drummer in a band.”

  “He’d played in a band when he was young. He met your mother the summer after he’d finished law school. He was taking time off before he went to work in his father’s law firm.”

  “He never said a word. I never would have guessed. Never.” Betrayal whiplashed through her. There were so many times he could have made her young life easier, but he’d never really tried. How could a father do that to a child?

  “Gordon loved your mother even after he married Hattie. He tried to see her, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”

  Alyssa battled a wave of dizziness and nausea. “Oh, my God! That’s just like what happened to me.”

  Aunt Thee’s smile seemed bleak. “Yes. So I’ve noticed.”

  “My mother must have known Hattie and Gordon were engaged. Did she deliberately try to break them up?”

  “No. Even though they were cousins, the fam
ilies weren’t close. They rarely saw each other. The Ardmores were the poor cousins who lived in Baton Rouge. Hattie’s engagement wasn’t going to be formally announced until September when Hattie and her parents came home from spending the summer in the South of France.”

  “Gordon LeCroix—” she couldn’t call him ‘father’—“didn’t lift a finger to help me when I was accused of abducting little Patrick.”

  A too familiar ache of despair swept through her as she recalled being taken to the police station for questioning. Some wounds never fully heal and she knew this one never would, especially now that she knew her father had been right there.

  “Don’t be too hard on Gordon. He’s a weak man. He should have broken his engagement and married the woman he really loved, the woman who was carrying his child, but he didn’t want to go up against his father. When the baby disappeared, both his daughters were involved. He called me. That was the best he could do.”

  Alyssa let go of her aunt’s hand and slumped back in her chair. She gazed at the bank of machines that were ticking and blinking and burbling, but she didn’t see them. In her mind’s eye she saw Uncle Gordon over the years. He’d seemed quiet, withdrawn, and interested in nothing but his legal career and golf.

  She tried to recall their private conversations. He’d asked her how she was doing, but she had the impression he was just being polite. Each week he’d slipped her a little money. “Our secret,” he’d say.

  “I wish I’d brought you to Italy. I could have spared you so much pain.” Her eyes were awash with unshed tears, pleading for forgiveness. “I never imagined what you were going through. I believed Hattie had forgiven Gordon—”

  “You don’t know Hattie.”

  “When I called to check on you, why didn’t you say something … anything to let me know how they were treating you?”

  Alyssa shrugged, feeling emotionally drained and physically exhausted. “I was afraid to complain. If it got back to Hattie, no telling what she would have done.”

  Hattie had been hard on all three children, but most of all—Alyssa. Gordon hadn’t been strong enough to stop her. Now she understood that Hattie had been making Gordon pay for loving another woman. And she’d been punishing an innocent child who knew nothing about it.