by Mary Birk
So that was what had become of the uncashed checks. “Anne, he’s my son. I can support him.”
“No baby in the world needs this much money to support him. I have insurance, a job, all that. He’ll be with you part of the time, so it will all work out. We don’t need to do this. I don’t want us to be like this—it wasn’t meant to be businesslike for us.” She took the envelope and stuck it in his back pocket. Then she smiled. “But I will let you pay for college—that’s the expensive part.” She went back into the bathroom.
He walked over toward the bassinet to get the blanket. He picked it up, then sat on the bed and looked at Michael, directing his remarks to the little face. “College? Just so you know, Michael, we call it university here.”
Anne’s small case in which she carried her toiletries and make-up was open on the bed. As always, her bag was organized and everything was neatly put into small, dainty zippered pouches. Beside it was what he assumed was the diaper bag. He looked inside for another cloth like the one on his shoulder, fishing around with one hand while he held the baby against him with the other. His hand came across a small box, and without thinking about it, he pulled it out. It was a small package, wrapped tightly in gold paper. He knew she and Meg had already taken their presents down to put around the tree last night before dinner. He wondered what this one was still doing here. He took his finger and gingerly flipped open the little card on top.
“If he doesn’t want you, open this and come home. I do.” It was signed “A.”
Reid dropped the package back in the bag and moved his hand away, pulling out one of the little cloths just in time as Anne came out of the bathroom humming, holding some instrument of torture he remembered she used on her eyelashes. She looked surprised he was still there.
“Did you need anything else?”
“I guess not.” He couldn’t remember why he’d sat down.
“Then will you please take Michael? I need to get dressed now.” She gestured to the door.
He felt a fool. Had she thought he expected to stay and watch her?
“Of course, sorry.”
He took the baby and left.
Chapter 18
AFTER HE FINISHED on the treadmill, he’d lift weights, Lance decided. Then he’d shower and see if Darryl was ready to go to breakfast. He wished they weren’t sleeping in separate bedrooms. He’d gotten used to sleeping with Darryl, except when Darryl had to work late. He saw himself in the mirrored wall as he ran. He was definitely more fit now and his muscles had gotten bigger and more defined. Since he’d started seeing Darryl, he’d been working hard to get in as good of shape as Darryl was. Often they worked out together, but Darryl said last night not to expect him this morning. Later, though, they could use the steam room together. That would be fun, especially if no one else was around. He wondered if he’d ever get to a point where he had something on his mind other than Darryl. How did anything get done in the world with this sort of thing going on all the time?
After the holidays, he’d stop doing so many drugs. At least a little less. They were making his brain fuzzy. He couldn’t even remember anything much about last night after he and Darryl had left the drawing room. They’d gone to the media room, put on some music, done some lines, taken some pills. All that on top of the multi-drinks they’d had before, with, and after dinner.
Yes, he definitely had to cut back on the drugs. The major drugs anyway. Not only were they zipping his memory, they were screwing with his sleep. He’d been having a hard time sleeping anyway, with worrying about what Darryl wanted him to do, no, insisted he do. His mind still couldn’t get itself wrapped around it. But it was hard to say no to Darryl. Besides, when Darryl talked, everything he said made so much sense. It was only later, after he was alone, that Lance would begin to worry.
But maybe after last night, Darryl would agree Lance didn’t really need to kill his parents. Now Darryl would have the job with his father’s firm, he could leave his job as a waiter, and he’d have plenty of money. Lance would make sure he brought his own grades up so his parents would pay for a flat for him next year, then Darryl could live there for free and save the money he would have spent on his own place. Lance already let Darryl drive his car. In fact, Darryl drove it more than he did. Lance didn’t mind. He liked walking, and taking public trans was no trouble. Besides, it made Darryl so happy.
Once Darryl got to know Lance’s parents, he’d like them. Or at least, not hate them. Or at least, not think they had to die. Everyone in his family liked Darryl already, he was pretty sure. That reminded him, though. That stuff about Miranda. Rodney had been furious about Lance telling Darryl their family secrets. He’d denied it when Rodney confronted him after dinner, of course, even though he had told. But he hadn’t told Darryl everything. He hadn’t told about Miranda’s abortion. Or who the father had been. They didn’t even know Lance knew about that. That was something that would queer things for Miranda with Reid for certain.
Then, all of a sudden, the fuzz in Lance’s brain cleared, and he froze. Last night.
Something had happened last night.
No, no. He couldn’t be remembering it right. He must be imagining it. He’d stopped moving, but the treadmill kept going, and Lance fell, half on, half off, the machine.
He swore, yanked his legs off the still-rotating rubber platform, and put a hand to his face. Wincing, he pulled it away, more distressed than he wanted to admit by the blood on his hand. He touched his chin again, felt the slightly split flesh, swore again. Turning on to his back, he tried to bring last night’s memory back. His father. It had been his father. His father had come in when he and Darryl were in the media room. While they were . . . No, no. Surely not. Hadn’t Darryl locked the door? For a brief moment, Lance hoped Darryl had given him one of those drugs that made you fall down the rabbit hole and imagine crazy tea parties, but he couldn’t ignore the sick feeling in his gut that told him it had all been real.
What if his father told his mother? Worse, what if his father took back his offer of a job to Darryl? No, he wouldn’t, would he? This wasn’t the dark ages, for Christ’s sake. His father might be a little shocked, but once he got over it, he would accept things. He had to. Lance groaned, realizing he was going to have to talk to his father about it. Explain. He was sure his father would understand. Or not. Lance realized he had no idea what his father’s attitude was about things like this.
If his father could accept his and Darryl’s relationship, Darryl would still get the job. If Darryl was set up in a good job, they wouldn’t have to worry about having enough money. If Darryl wasn’t worried about them having enough money, surely they wouldn’t have to do anything drastic.
He really didn’t want to have to kill his parents.
Chapter 19
THE DOORBELL RANG as Reid was coming down the stairs carrying his son. Bernard opened the door, greeting the new arrivals. Reid instantly recognized his sister-in-law Jeanne’s voice. Wrapping the blanket around Michael, he went to the door. “Bernard, close the door quickly, please. We don’t want a draft on my son.”
“No, my lord.”
Reid went forward. “Irene, good to see you. Sorry, but my arms are full.” He bounced his son in his arms. He watched warily to assess his in-laws’ reception of his courtesies.
His mother-in-law, still a strikingly beautiful woman, was dressed warmly in a long soft white coat, her dark brown hair making a striking contrast. “Terrence.” They exchanged kisses on the cheek, then she leaned down to kiss Michael. “Too long, little man.”
Cordial, then. Civil. Good. He admitted to himself he was relieved. Anne or Meg must have spoken to them, told them he understood about Anne and Grainger, and they were all treating him much as they always had. Doubtless they knew Anne and his marriage had been over, for all intents and purposes, long before Michael’s birth.
Jeanne, a younger version of her mother, gave him a warm hug. “Thanks so much for inviting us. The kids are excited, and so am
I.” She grinned at him. “Wow and double wow. What a beautiful place.”
“I was afraid you might not be able to get away, Jeanne. How’s business?”
“Business is actually going quite well. The Mermaids is completely booked for the holidays, but I was able to get a couple I know to take over for me so I could come. I didn’t want to miss this.” She grinned up at him. “By the way, we’re using the cappuccino maker like crazy. Thanks again. And for your comments on my webpage. Great to have an endorsement from a Scottish lord.”
“Don’t mention it.” He shifted the baby to the other shoulder. “How’s Dougal doing?”
Jeanne shook her head. “Not so well. Susan’s cancer has gotten much worse. I’m afraid she’s not going to make it much longer. It’s hard on him and on the children.”
“That’s too bad.” Reid was fond of Dougal McLendon, the chief of police for Bodega Bay, the town in California where Jeanne lived.
“They’re trying to make every moment she has left count. It makes you think about what is important and what isn’t in life, that’s for sure. He sends his regards.” Jeanne had lost her husband just a few years before but had gone forward with her life, trying to make sure her children had her around as much as possible. She’d left her job as a teacher in San Francisco to transform the old family summer home into a bed and breakfast so she wouldn’t have to leave her children to earn a living. “Speaking of what’s important in life, what do you think of little Michael?” She smiled and took the baby’s hand. “Isn’t he just so precious?”
“He’s amazing.”
Jeanne nodded. “Babies are wonderful.” She looked down as her children put their arms around her legs from behind. “As are children of any age.” Bending down to put her arms around her children, she gave them each a kiss. “Remember your Uncle Terrence?”
They nodded, looking a little shy.
He crouched down to talk to them, holding Michael close against him. “Hello, Hannah. Hello, Phillip. I’m so glad you came.” He led them all into the drawing room. “We have some prime hills where we can go sledging, and one day while you’re here, I’ll take you to see the falcons and the owls and a big eagle. They land right on your arm.”
“Don’t they have kwaws?” Hannah looked a little scared, but she moved close to him.
He frowned until he figured out she meant claws. “Aye, we call them talons. But they don’t use them to hurt people. Just to pick things up. Like you do with your hands and your fingers.”
Jeanne smiled at his watered-down explanation of how birds of prey used their talons.
Phillip asked, “What’s sledging?”
“Ah, you would call it sledding. Different words for the same thing.”
“I love sledding.”
“Me too.” Reid shifted Michael to his other arm, because Hannah wanted to hold his hand. He took her hand, leaning down so he could reach her hand and still hold Michael. Turning to face the women, he asked, “Would you ladies like breakfast or would you like to go to your rooms first?”
Jeanne looked at her mother. Irene looked around. “Where are Anne and Meg?”
“Dressing. I expect they’ll be down shortly for breakfast.”
“Maybe we should go up to our rooms. Then we’ll find them and come down when they do.”
Reid nodded. “I’ll have someone take you up.”
*****
Rodney Greene knocked on his mother’s door. “Mother, it’s me. Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Come on in.” He opened the door, instantly swamped by a cloud of feminine fragrance.
“Smells good in here. You must be putting on the whole works.”
His mother smiled. “Good morning, darling. Happy Christmas Eve.” She was seated at the room’s Louis XIV dressing table, arranging her hair.
He kissed her on the cheek. “I missed you at breakfast.”
“I had to choose between breakfast and sleep. As usual, sleep won.” She pinned her hair up in a twist. “But I’ll be at luncheon. How is Krystal doing? Having fun?”
“She’s thrilled. A little bit of lord and lady infatuation. She seems to think she’s been transported onto a film set.”
She laughed. “That’s good.”
“She’s busy following Pippa around. Miranda can’t stand her and barely hides it.”
“No surprise there. How’s everything going downstairs?”
“Fine. Anne’s sister and mother arrived, along with her sister’s children.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I suppose Miranda’s told you what’s going on with all that?”
“The annulment? Yes, apparently Anne has agreed.”
“Miranda must be thrilled.”
“That’s a serious understatement. Ecstasy comes closer.”
“Poor Juliette. What a mess. The tension between Terrence and his wife last night at dinner was so obvious.”
“Luckily for me, I was at the other end of the table. We had our own fun going on. I got to talk to Lance and his friend. And Rafe, of course. Lance’s friend did make a nasty remark about Miranda and Terrence’s behavior, but I couldn’t see what he was talking about.”
“I can hardly blame him. It was a bit hard to miss from where I was sitting. There was a whole embarrassing scene with Terrence letting Miranda cut up his food when his arms were full with the baby. I felt sorry for Anne, frankly. A less self-possessed woman would have dumped her wine on him and slapped Miranda. I cannot imagine how the christening and the party will go.”
“Should be interesting.”
“How does Miranda seem to be doing with everything?”
“She’s certain Reid intends to pick up their relationship where it left off before he met the unfortunate woman.”
His mother groaned. “It’s never a good idea to get involved with a married man.”
“Miranda’s determined. She believes she can make him happy. At least happier than this American has.”
“Their marriage has been rather a mess.” Lady Flora, having finished her hair, went on to her make-up.
“Krystal thinks it’s wildly romantic. I wouldn’t admit it to Miranda, but, despite everything, I like Anne. You couldn’t say she’s after the Reid money. The other man seems to have a ton himself. But she’s that kind of woman, you know, attracts high-powered men—men who can afford her. The rest of us mere mortal men are just totally in awe a creature like that exists. We know we wouldn’t have a prayer with her, but she’s bloody gorgeous to look at from afar.”
His mother laughed. “Darling, you’re good enough for any woman.”
“Spoken like a mother. Speaking of high-powered men, I noticed Dad was being extremely attentive to her; although he doesn’t usually aim so high—except when he married you, of course.”
“Thank you, dear. At least, I think that was a compliment. I like Anne too. She’s behaving very calmly for someone whose husband has just thrown her off—although she may not realize how many of us know about it.” She tilted her head to one side, then the other, applying a fine mist of hair spray on her arrangement. “But, of course, I hope it works out for your sister.”
“I’m sure it will all work out, Mother.” Rodney went over to her and sat on a nearby bench. “Actually, I need to talk to you about something. What I mentioned to you on the telephone.”
“The financial problem?”
He nodded. “I really need to borrow some money from you to put some things right. It would just be for a short time, just until I can get things straightened out.”
“How much?”
He swallowed. “Two and a half million pounds.”
Her mouth opened wide, then seeming to catch herself, she closed it. “You must be joking.”
He shook his head. He felt wretched asking, but he had no other choice. Especially after what had happened to Pooley. Walter Von Zandt obviously meant what he said. But why hadn’t he given Pooley until after New Year’s to make the loss good? Rodney had been there wh
en Von Zandt had issued the threat to the two of them, and he was sure that’s what the man had said. If only he hadn’t been so eager to get Von Zandt for a client that he’d let him invest another chunk in that damned hedge fund. Pooley had told him the man already had a passel of eggs in that basket, and had warned him it was against firm policy to let a client get two chunks in a high-risk investment by going through two brokers. Unfortunately for him, he’d ignored Pooley’s advice.
“Darling, I don’t have that kind of cash. All of my holdings, other than the principal that throws off the income we live on, are in land, buildings, things like that. My liquid holdings are chiefly what you’ve already invested for me. The two million pounds. If it’s truly an emergency, I can lend you that.”
Rodney flushed. “That’s part of the problem. I have some rather bad news.”
“Yes?”
“Unfortunately, the hedge fund I put your money in turned out to be somewhat of a Ponzi scheme. I didn’t know it, of course, but the short story is your money is gone, along with two and a half million of my other investor’s money.”
“Oh.” He didn’t think she looked as surprised as he would have expected.
“I’m so sorry, Mother.”
She turned back to her mirror, applying her lipstick. “Rodney, I don’t know what to say. That was everything.”
“I’ll make it right. I promise. But I need the money to make sure the investor doesn’t sue me. Or try to get criminal charges brought against me.” Or kill me, Rodney thought silently.
“Criminal charges?”
“I didn’t know it was a fiddle, but he’ll trump up some charges, and I’ll never be able to work in the financial world again.”
“Do you mean you could actually go to jail?”
“Possibly. If I don’t put it right. Right now I have his agreement not to do anything if I make him whole by New Year’s. Couldn’t you take a loan out on some property?”
She shook her head. “No, darling. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the loss I’ve already taken. Is there any chance I can get my money back?”