She opened her eyes again. "What I know is exactly what Chess will think when you don't show up. I don't care if you have the best excuse in the world. If you aren't ringing the doorbell half an hour from now, Chess is going to know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, beyond any chance of recall, that you don't care about him. Now, Kate." Cookie infused her voice with steel. "Now, Kate, do you really want Chess to think that?"
There was no answer from the other end. Just a moment of silence and then a soft click.
Cookie held onto the phone a moment longer, listening to the mechanical silence. Then she, too, hung up.
Chess walked in from the living room. "Who was on the phone?" He found the bowl of corn chips Cookie had poured out and took a handful.
Cookie removed her hand from the phone. "Kate," she admitted.
"Ah." Chess's expression turned knowing as he tossed a corn chip into his mouth. "Told you so."
Cookie bent back over her mixing bowl. "She said she's on her way."
Chess smirked. "The hell she did. Admit it, Cookie. You were wrong."
Grumbling, Cookie regarded him from under her lashes.
He was leaning his hips against the kitchen counter, popping more chips into his mouth. A sweater of grays and browns hung from his broad shoulders, loosely covering compactly muscular hips and the top of a pair of gray-brown trousers. Cookie supposed the clothes were expensive with some fancy name on the label, but they didn't do a thing to soften the raw masculinity of the man who wore them.
"Want me to set the table?" Chess pushed away from the kitchen counter, brushing his hands.
Quickly, Cookie turned her gaze back to her casserole. It was perverse the way she noticed Chess sometimes. Sometimes she found herself measuring his superior strength with her eyes or staring at the beard that struggled to the surface of his face in between shaves.
Her bizarre interest in his physicality was all the more ridiculous in that Chess now showed absolutely no such interest in return. In all fairness, Cookie wanted to keep it that way. She'd almost gotten him friendly again. The last thing she wanted was to screw that up.
"Tuna casserole, eh?" His voice was amused as he came behind her shoulder to look.
"Tease all you want, but I make a killer casserole." Or so she might, if her hands would stop shaking. He was so close. Just an inch more, and he'd be touching her. Totally irrational, but she ached for his touch. Wouldn't it be lovely for his arms to come around her waist and for her to be able to lean back against him?
"Something wrong?" Chess stepped to the side to regard her. "You look flushed."
"It's crowded in here." Cookie blew the hair out of her eyes. "And yes, you can set the table. Three place settings."
Chess let a beat of silence go by. "Two."
Cookie grumbled something that was not complimentary about rock-hard heads and dumped the tuna mixture into a baking dish.
Once the casserole was in the oven, she threw together a green salad and started some potatoes boiling. She made enough for three. At the same time, the soft little click of Kate hanging up the phone echoed in her ear. Cookie would kill Chess's mother if she didn't show up.
From the kitchen Cookie could hear Chess whistling as he put the finishing touches on the table. He sounded cheerful. A tad too cheerful, Cookie thought. She wondered how Kate could be so blind. Couldn't she see how much Chess needed her? Except for the year he'd spent in France, Chess's entire professional career had been devoted to Scents Allure, his mother's company. He so clearly hoped for at least some gratitude from her, if not affection.
Cookie glanced up at the black-and-white clock over the oven.
Kate was late.
Bracing herself, Cookie walked through the kitchen door and into the dining room.
Chess stood back from arranging a collection of his roses in a vase on top of the teak table. A pair of long candles was lit, gleaming softly on two place settings.
"Do you realize this will be our first dinner together at home?" Chess asked.
He was trying to shift the focus away from his mother's nonappearance. But at the same time, Cookie wondered if he wasn't also suggesting they might spend more time together. And what about those candles? She felt an illogical leap of hope.
But what was she hoping for? Hadn't she decided to expect nothing back from Chess?
Silently, she cleared her throat. "Yes, our schedules rarely allow us to be home at the same time in the evenings, do they? You're usually working late, and by the time you get home, I've already left for the theater."
Chess brushed a hand over the surface of a pink rose. "I suppose it isn't that important. After all, we're both busy people."
"Right." Cookie's illogical little hope died. It wasn't that important.
Chess retracted his hand from the flowers. "Are we ready to eat?"
"I'd like to wait for Kate. And we need another place setting."
Chess placed both hands on the back of a dining room chair. "Let's eat."
"She probably got tied up in traffic. She's only ten minutes late."
His eyes lightened to the point where they looked like the early morning sea. "Kate did not tell you she was on her way over." He stated this as a fact, not a question.
Cookie shrugged. "That's what she meant. I'm getting another plate."
Chess's face darkened. Cookie was sure he was on the point of delivering a scathing retort when the doorbell rang.
Never in her life had Cookie been so relieved to hear a sound. "You get that," she ordered her dumbstruck husband. "I have to finish the salad dressing." She was through the swinging door to the kitchen before he could say a word.
By listening very carefully from just inside the kitchen, Cookie could hear Chess open the front door. She heard the murmured greeting as he let his mother in.
No exclamation of joy on the one hand or elated greeting on the other. But Kate was here, and Chess had let her in. Cookie smiled.
Judging they'd had enough time to become uncomfortable with each other, she emerged from the kitchen and into the marble foyer.
"I'm sorry I'm late." Kate's pale face was flushed over her cheeks. "There was traffic."
"That's what we figured. Didn't we, Chess?" Cookie beamed at him.
He made no attempt to smile back.
"Here. I brought something." Kate held out a paper bag, wavering between Cookie and Chess.
Cookie didn't make a move to receive the gift, so Chess was forced to take it. He drew a bottle of wine from the paper bag.
"Wine!" Cookie exclaimed. "Why, Chess loves wine."
Chess looked at the bottle in his hands as though he'd never seen such a thing in his life. "Thank you," he managed to say.
Cookie went up to Kate and gave her the hug Chess no doubt had omitted. "Dinner is just about ready. Chess, why don't you open that wine while I finish setting the table? Kate, go ahead and sit down."
Kate noticed the table completely set—for two. She and Cookie exchanged a glance over its top before Cookie got out another place setting.
Meanwhile, by the sideboard Chess carefully removed the cork from Kate's wine.
"Are you going to pour that?" Cookie suggested.
"It needs to sit," Chess said.
At the same time, Kate warned, "You have to let it sit."
Cookie did her level best not to laugh. "I guess we'd better let it sit. I'll go turn off the oven."
Dinner conversation was stilted at best. Chess couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he wanted to be surly or simply indifferent. Kate went into her ice mode. Cookie told herself it didn't matter. Kate was here. That alone was a huge step in the right direction.
Cookie raised her glass to take a sip of what turned out to be excellent wine, not that she was an expert. "Kate, did Chess tell you the work he's been doing with Alex?"
Chess scowled, but Kate turned directly toward Cookie, alert. "No, he hasn't told me."
Cookie mentally rolled her eyes. Of course he hadn't. Al
ways pretending nothing family-related mattered. "He's been showing Alex through his bottles of scents, seeing if Alex has the sniffing talent."
To Cookie's bafflement, Kate turned a deathly shade of white. "What?"
"Well, since Chess inherited the talent from your father, he was curious whether Alex might have picked up the same genes."
Kate's green eyes were wide on Cookie. "And?" Her voice wavered. "Has he?"
Cookie smiled reassuringly. "Chess thinks so. But he says it's hard to tell yet exactly how much."
Kate closed her widened eyes. Then she gave a short laugh. "Well, I certainly never expected— Ah, never mind." She opened her eyes again, smiling. Relieved.
She hadn't expected Alex would have the talent. Cookie silently finished the thought for Kate and wondered why not. If Chess had inherited the talent, why wouldn't Alex?
"I doubt Alex has much desire to go into the business, however," Kate said, addressing Chess.
"He has the idea he's not smart enough," Chess grumbled.
Kate raised a shoulder. "He has other interests. Besides, he'll never have half your gift."
Cookie opened her mouth, on the verge of defending her little brother, when she realized what Kate had just, inadvertently admitted about Chess's sniffing talent. Cookie was so surprised that she didn't dare look at Chess to see if he'd heard the same admission. There was only one reason Kate could sound so sure that Alex's talent would be inferior to Chess's. Only if Chess had inherited his talent from someone not in common with his half-brother. The only person that could be was Chess's father.
Chess's father had the sniffing talent!
Cookie subsided into speechlessness as Chess calmly rose to start clearing things from the table. He looked down at her, raising an amused brow.
He obviously hadn't heard Kate's clue.
Flushing, Cookie stood, too. Should she tell him later, make sure he got it? But Chess never spoke about his father, and Cookie wasn't sure he cared to speculate on the man's identity.
"Why don't you get the coffee started?" Chess smoothly suggested, "I'll clear the rest of these things."
Cookie nodded, aware of the way Kate was closely watching the exchange. She was also aware of the way Chess had appointed himself in charge of the evening. He'd done that about a minute after Kate had come through the front door. He probably thought he could control matters better that way. He was probably right, but Cookie didn't mind ceding him authority. It meant he was buying into the whole visit.
"By the way," Kate spoke, once they were all seated again with coffee and the brownies Cookie had made. "Have you decided what to do about the new ad campaign?"
Cookie halted with her coffee halfway to her mouth. Kate didn't know? Surely, Chess had told her what was going on—
"Our first ads will come out next month," Chess announced.
Kate looked startled. "Then you must have finished the layouts."
"That's right."
Her mouth pinched. "Why wasn't I shown the new advertisement?"
Chess's voice was deceptively casual as he reached for the cream. "There was no need to get you involved."
"No need?" Kate's voice was crisp. "What about the fact that I'm your partner?"
"Third partner," Chess calmly corrected. "Cookie and myself make up two thirds."
So we don't need you at all. The words hung in the air.
Cookie was too stunned to move, let alone speak. He was using her! He was using her to strike at his mother.
"Well, then." Quickly recovering, Kate smiled at Chess. It was an icy smile. "Perhaps you could do me the courtesy of showing me what you've approved without me?"
Chess stirred the cream into his coffee. A long and uncomfortable silence ensued.
Cookie was horrified. He wasn't merely denying his mother input on the new ad campaign; he wasn't even willing to show her what they had planned.
Kate laid her napkin beside her plate. Her cold smile didn't waver. "I suppose you'd prefer I wait until next month, at which time I can see the ad like anybody else—in a magazine?"
"Yes." Chess wrapped his big hand around his cup of coffee. "I think that would be best."
"Chess!" Cookie whispered in dismay.
Kate made a dismissive motion with her hand. "Don't bother trying. You won't change his mind."
"It's nothing personal." Chess sounded oh-so-reasonable. "We simply can't afford any more slip-ups. As it is, we've lost a full month of advertising."
Cookie choked. "Surely you can trust Kate!"
Kate reached across the table and laid a cold hand atop Cookie's. "It's all right. I know that Chess is only doing what he thinks he has to."
Chess looked up from his coffee, obviously surprised.
The ice melted from Kate's face. Now she appeared exhausted. "Marketing has always been Chess's province, anyway. I have more than enough in distribution to keep me busy without worrying about your advertising campaign."
Chess's surprised expression faded into something purely blank.
Cookie felt awful. It wasn't bad enough that Chess had trampled his mother's feelings, but Kate was making excuses for him. Somehow, that made it worse.
"It was a lovely dinner, Cookie." Kate stood. "And very thoughtful of you to invite me."
Cookie stood, too. She didn't know how inviting an unsuspecting party into a viper's nest was thoughtful, but she judged this was not the proper moment in which to ponder the point. "We'll do it again," she proclaimed instead.
Chess glanced in her direction. He apparently knew what was good for his health, for he didn't say a word.
Cookie walked Kate to the front door while Chess fetched her coat from the hall closet.
"Oh, thank you," Kate said, as Chess silently helped her into her coat.
Chess didn't look half as embarrassed as Kate did. In fact, he didn't look embarrassed at all.
Cookie and Chess watched from the door as Kate climbed into her car and drove off.
As they stepped back inside, Chess closed and locked the front door. Slowly, he turned toward Cookie, showing a tightly restrained, but no less savage, fury. "Don't you ever do that again!"
"Me?!" Cookie pressed a palm against her breast. "What did I do?"
His mouth became one hard line. "You want me to trust her? Trust her? How dare you ask that of me!"
Cookie was adamant. "She's your mother, for crying out loud. Your mother! Not to mention your business partner of the past—what—twelve years?"
Chess's eyes were the color of a tossing sea in a storm. "My mother," he repeated bitterly.
"That's right. Maybe you've forgotten what that means in this long-standing grudge between the two of you."
Chess's eyes widened. "Grudge? You think this is a grudge?"
"Whatever you want to call it, it's gone on long enough, don't you think?"
Chess voice went slow and deliberate. "It's 'gone on,' as you call it, for at least thirty-eight years. From the day I was born—no, probably from the day I was conceived—my mother, as you call her, has resented my very existence. Do I think this grudge has gone on long enough? Well, I don't know, Cookie. What do you think?"
Cookie's mouth opened. Thirty-eight years! She didn't believe him. She didn't want to believe him. "I know that Kate loves you," she said, wanting to believe that.
"Loves me?" Chess gave a harsh laugh. "Then she certainly has an odd way of showing it. It was a cold house I grew up in, what years I spent there. As soon as she possibly could my mother sent me to boarding school. I was nine years old, and she didn't even kiss me goodbye. At the vacation breaks she didn't send for me. She didn't visit. That's my mother, Cookie. Who loves me."
Cookie stared at him, appalled. She'd thought the rift between mother and son was based on something contained, discrete, and possibly blown out of proportion over time. She'd never dreamed...
Chess, glaring down at her, looked suddenly just as appalled.
"Oh, Chess," Cookie whispered. She didn't know
what to do, but she felt the imperative to do something, anything, to heal his gaping wound.
"No," Chess said. He stepped away as she reached out. His back came up against the front door. Apparently afraid she might approach yet closer, he turned the knob. "I—am leaving."
Behind him, the door opened. He slipped out, closing the door sharply after himself.
Cookie was left with one hand covering her open mouth and a strangled cry in her throat.
~~~
It must have been close to one in the morning when Chess started up the hill toward home. For three hours he'd roamed the streets, from the wharf to Coit Tower, through the financial district, and up the shadows of Market Street. And around in a circuit again. Finally, he was exhausted. So exhausted he could almost live with himself for what he'd revealed to Cookie.
The woman did something to him. She cut the ground out from under him. Made him feel small and helpless.
He hated that. He hated her.
Chess came to a stop in front of the house. Hell, he didn't even think of it as his house anymore. He thought of it as theirs. How ridiculous.
The house was dark. She hadn't waited up for him.
Chess should have felt grateful she hadn't waited up for him. He didn't want to see her. But, dammit, he wished she'd waited up for him. He wanted all kinds of crazy things from her. As he stood on the sidewalk looking at the house, he felt as though he were melting into the ground with all his frustrated wanting.
Would it help if she let him into her bed? Sure wouldn't hurt. Chess had no idea why the activity was verboten. He didn't think Cookie was averse to him. Sometimes he caught a look in her eye. She noticed him. But she seemed to be scared of something. He was puzzled by that. In his life, including that night in Hawaii, he'd never done anything to hurt her or to make her believe that he might.
Shaking his head, Chess started for the door.
It was quiet inside. Cookie was asleep, as any normal person would be in the early hours of a weekday morning.
That was okay. He didn't need her. He didn't need to talk to her and straighten out any wrong conclusions she might have drawn from his earlier, ill-advised outburst. He didn't need to see her or just be with her. He was heading to his own bed. He was exhausted.
Call it Love Page 19