Sins of Omission

by Fern Michaels

  Reuben nodded. Daniel always made sense. He couldn’t let this child get to him. Obviously she was one of those cats who liked to stir up trouble out of pure spite. “My leg’s been aching all day. That’s why I was so eager to soak. Is your shoulder bothering you?”

  “Aching like your leg. I guess winter weather is finally here. The windowpanes downstairs are starting to frost over. I don’t know if I’m glad or sorry.”

  “Hell, Daniel, let’s not be sorry about anything except maybe that spoiled brat in there.” Reuben jerked his thumb toward the bathroom door. “Did you have Christmas at the orphanage?”

  “Well, sure, but it wasn’t like a family Christmas. We had a tree that we all got to decorate with popcorn and berries and a few ornaments. I always wanted to know what Christmas was like with a family. Jake said it wasn’t much. He said they didn’t even have a tree unless one of his older brothers stole it, and even then it wasn’t any good because they didn’t have anything to hang on it. He said it smelled good, though.”

  Reuben swallowed hard at the mention of Daniel’s boyhood friend. He hadn’t forgotten the dog Daniel wanted to call Jake. “Well, this year we’ll both know what it’s like. Let’s cross our fingers that Miss Uppity in there doesn’t spoil it.”

  “Reuben, do we have enough money left to get a present for her?”

  “Yeah, we have something left. We’ll ask Mickey what to get for her. I understand the principle of giving. Don’t worry.” Reuben checked his watch and banged his fist on the door. “Your time is up!” he called out.

  “Go away! If you had a time limit, you should have told me. I got here first!” Bebe cried childishly.

  “I’m going to count to five, and if you aren’t out of there, the door goes down and you’ll fix it. One! Two! Three!” The formidable grin on Reuben’s face puzzled Daniel.

  Bebe hopped from the tub and wrapped herself in a huge towel. She stomped to the door and threw back the bolt. “You are a goddamn bully, Reuben Tarz.” She tried to shoulder past him, but he blocked her way.

  “No, no, no. You drain the water, wipe out the tub, and take all your junk out of here. Now!”

  “Kiss my ass!” Bebe cried angrily. Again she tried to shoulder her way past Reuben.

  “Mickey’s cook is too old to clean up after you. I’m certainly not going to do it, and Daniel can’t stretch his shoulder that far. Mickey is your hostess, so we all know you’d never expect her to do it. That leaves you! As for kissing your ass…forget it.” He turned to Daniel and winked. “It must be something they do in California.”

  Tears streaming down her cheeks, Bebe grasped the towel around her as she tried to drain the water and clean the tub at the same time. The moment the towel started to slip, Reuben and Daniel discreetly withdrew. Reuben shook his head with disapproval as Bebe’s curses filtered out to the hallway.

  “Where did she learn words like that?” Daniel asked, shocked.

  Reuben snorted. “California, land of sunshine and decadence.”

  When Bebe finished her chore she stormed past them, eyes blazing. Back in her room, she sat down on her bed with a thump. She let the tears flow, not caring that her eyes would be puffy and red. Who was going to see her but her aunt and those two officious clods?

  And where in hell was her aunt? Leaving everything up to her lover, that’s where she was. Hiding out. Afraid to face her. Ashamed to face her, probably. Bebe blew her nose lustily, then threw the lace-edged handkerchief carelessly into the corner.

  The room was a mess, her clothes in heaps on the floor, her shoes scattered all over. It would take days to sort through everything and place it in the armoires. She really doubted the furnishings would hold all her belongings, and she’d die before she’d ask the others for extra drawers or closet space. She’d had enough humiliation today to last the rest of her life.

  This was a fend-for-yourself operation. There would be no one to pick up after her, no one for her to order about. If she wanted something, she’d damn well get it herself or learn to do without. Wait till her friends in California found out she was forced to clean the bathtub! Of course, the only way they would ever know was if she told them.

  She was so hungry she felt like she could eat a horse, hooves and all. She looked wildly for something to wear. Helter-skelter, the clothing flew as she searched out her underwear and stockings. She pulled and tugged until she found a wrinkled yellow dress with a high neckline. It looked demure and virginal with its little lace collar and cuffs. She searched through the pile of clothing until she found a pair of shoes with a sensible pair of heels. “Clod!” she muttered.

  Bebe stared at her damp hair. The curling ringlets would never dry. The best she could do was fluff it out with her fingers and hope it didn’t mat, making her head look like a ball with fuzz on it. It would take her hours, maybe even days, to find the makeup case that held her perfume and powder. She’d go to dinner with a shiny, well-scrubbed face. She’d keep quiet and speak only when spoken to. And the first time the chance presented itself, she’d kick Reuben square in the groin. The thought lightened her mood considerably. She tripped into the library, where Mickey was pouring wine into four glasses.

  It was a pleasant enough evening, and by ten o’clock Mickey was ready to call a halt to the long day. “Come along, Bebe, we will go upstairs together. I know you must be exhausted from your travels. I can assure you a wonderful night’s sleep on my goose down bed. Tomorrow you will feel refreshed, and possibly, if I am right, you will go for a walk in the snow with me. We have so much to talk about.” Bebe followed her obediently.

  Mickey put her arm around the young girl’s fragile shoulder and was stunned to feel it trembling beneath her touch. With an unexpected surge of suppressed motherhood, she led the girl to her room, helped her undress, and then loaned her a nightgown rather than have her paw through the stack of clothing in the center of the floor.

  “Would you care for some hot chocolate, chérie? It will be no trouble for me to go down and get it.”

  “No, Aunt Mickey. I’m fine. And I—I’m sorry about the way I behaved. I have no excuse,” Bebe blurted out.

  “It is of no importance. I was young once, too, believe it or not. Perhaps in a few days you will feel more kindly toward Reuben and apologize to him. But only if you want to.”

  “He hates me!” Bebe cried, sensing there was sympathy to be earned.

  “No, chérie, he does not hate you. He does not like the way you behaved. You are one of his countrymen, and he took your behavior personally. You will make amends, I am sure of it.”

  “You said my mother liked it here at the château and didn’t want to leave. What was she like, Aunt Mickey? I never knew her, and Papa doesn’t like to talk about her.”

  “She was very beautiful. Not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. She was a gentle, giving, caring woman, and she made your papa very happy. When she was pregnant with you, she said she knew it would be a girl. She had such wonderful plans for the two of you. She said she’d never give you up to a nanny but would take care of you herself. Your father was devastated at her death. Your brother should have been brought here to me. I offered to take him, at least for a while. You, too. But your father said he didn’t want to rip the family apart. I know he tried his best with you and Eli, and I also know he was far too indulgent because he loves you so much. I understand Eli is constantly in trouble, but that will change when he discovers who he is and what he wants to do with his life. Someday Eli will be a wonderful painter. You, Miss Bebe, leave much to be desired at the moment. I’m here to help you, but only if you want my help.”

  “Someday I’ll be just like you, Aunt Mickey,” Bebe said sleepily. “Maybe then someone will love me.”

  Mickey had to strain to hear the last words. Tears pricked at her eyelids, and her heart went out to the sleeping girl. “Poor lost lamb,” she whispered as she brushed wisps of golden hair from the smooth forehead. “I tortured myself for weeks about you. I thou
ght that Reuben would certainly be attracted to you, that he would compare us. My instincts were right, little one. There is something about you that Reuben finds…I don’t quite know what it is, but it is something I feel. You and I are like night and day to him. One of us is a woman, an older woman, and the other is a young girl on the brink of womanhood. I love this young man more than I have ever loved a man, and I know in my heart that I am going to lose him in some way to you. If you were worthy of him, I could…I could accept it and let him go, because true love is wanting the other person’s happiness more than your own. And you, little Bebe, want Reuben, I saw it in your eyes. Against my better judgment I have allowed him to consume my life. I cannot share him with you. Whatever I have I will willingly share, but not Reuben. Not now.” There was sorrow in her voice when she whispered her final good-night. “If you take him from me, then he’s not worth having, but don’t expect me to give him to you.”

  At the door she turned for a last look at the girl cuddled in bed. “You couldn’t possibly love him as I do. I wish you had never come here,” she murmured. Then she closed the door softly behind her, her eyes bright with tears.

  Bebe scrunched her face into the downy pillow and laughed gleefully. When sleep finally reached out to her, there was a smile on her face. Playing at falling asleep had been one of the first things in her acting repertoire. Reuben Tarz was as good as hers.

  It was hours later, past midnight, when Reuben slipped into Mickey’s warm bed. He drew her to him and whispered, “It’s snowing outside.” Mickey smiled as she returned to sleep, this time in Reuben’s arms.

  Chapter Nine

  The comfortable room was oppressive with the roaring fire. Reuben was feeling lethargic and useless; the vineyards were at rest for the season. After some initially trying days, Daniel and Bebe were settled into a routine of lessons, with Faroux just as easily teaching two bright students as one. Mickey spent long hours going over her financial records and keeping wine charts. Reuben read every book in the crowded library that dealt with winemaking. He’d asked thousands of questions and was surprised at Mickey’s expertise. While she didn’t actively operate the wineries, she knew to the day and hour what went on. It was time now for him to ask her if he could take over some of the responsibility, have a more active role in running the business.

  When Mickey lifted her head from the ledgers in front of her, Reuben smiled at her and mouthed the words, “You are so beautiful.” Mickey returned his smile with a roguish wink.

  Reuben closed his book. “Mickey, have you given any thought to my suggestions of last evening?”

  “Yes, considerable thought. I’m not sure…what if…I don’t think my wines are—”

  “No doubts,” Reuben said coolly. “You have first-quality wines. It’s time to share them with the rest of the world. Once in a while you have to take chances. Remember what you said about the young woman who designs your clothes? Your instincts told you she was going to be famous someday. A feeling, that’s all you had to go on, and you went with that feeling. I feel the same way about the wines…it’s time. You have to strike while the iron is hot, Mickey. If you don’t, someone else will get the jump on you. I want us to jump in with both feet. The only thing we can lose is some of our time and a few cases of wine.”

  “What if the foreigners don’t like our wines?” Mickey asked, frowning.

  “The Fonsard wineries and their product are the finest in all Europe. When you have the best, there is nothing to dislike. Talk to your bankers in Paris. If they agree that it’s a sound move, will you give the go-ahead?”

  “Yes. Yes, I will. But…” Mickey faced him anxiously. “Reuben, it will be an all-consuming job for you to undertake. When will we have time together?”

  “Is that what’s bothering you?” Reuben laughed. “Don’t you know I need you at my side while I work on this? I am going to need your French expertise! My American ingenuity will do the rest.”

  Once Mickey made the decision to go ahead, she felt much better. It did make things simpler, and Reuben was right, there was no reason to stagnate. The past several harvests had yielded some of the best wine Fonsard ever produced. Sharing it, becoming known, would be something Jacques would have done, had he lived. She felt sure the bankers, conservative though they were, would see that it was a good, sound investment for Fonsard. Most important of all, it would give Reuben something worthwhile to do. And working side by side would take them both away from Bebe. If there was any one thing that helped her make up her mind to endorse the idea, it was this.

  “Partners?” Reuben grinned.

  “Partners,” Mickey agreed. She knew then she would do whatever she could to make this man happy. Anything.

  During the second week of December, Reuben dragged Mickey to the wine cellar, where she kept a small office. Ledgers, receipts, and bills were filed neatly in stacked boxes. Together they pored over the ledgers until Reuben learned Mickey’s bookkeeping system. They decided to visit Château la Fonsard in Bordeaux, one of the largest wineries in the region. There Mickey would place Reuben in the expert hands of her head vintner, a position Reuben might assume someday. Monsieur Poitier had been grumbling about retiring, but since he lived on the château grounds he could remain available for consultation.

  The days were full and demanding for Reuben, and he loved every minute of them. Mickey thought she’d never been so happy. At night she prayed that nothing would ever spoil her happiness.

  The days raced toward Christmas and the holiday season. Four days before Christmas Mickey called a halt to lessons and told Reuben they were on a holiday from their office in the wine cellar. It was time to decorate the house, shop, and get things ready for the villagers who would visit the château to share the celebration.

  The château took on new life as Mickey’s “petite family” did their utmost to please her—trips to the fields for evergreens, trips to the village to shop, mysterious packages arriving by post from Paris, and hours shared in the kitchen helping Nanette prepare the feast and goodies. It was Reuben who swung the ax that toppled a twelve-foot fir tree. Everyone clapped their approval with cold, numb hands. Then they all tugged and pulled the monstrous tree to the sleigh, laughing and giggling like children. Mounds and mounds of fragrant balsam for the mantel, the staircase banister, and the doorways were added to the sleigh.

  Her face rosy with cold, Mickey laughed and said, “I think, little ones, that we must walk back to the château, there is no room in the sleigh. Also, we must gather holly and leave our tribute to the birds by hanging pieces of suet and bread. Once we return to the château we will feast on cake and hot chocolate. Bebe, you are frozen! I told you to dress warmly, that this would take hours. Perhaps we can find a spot for you in the sleigh. What do you think, Reuben? We’ll save the poor child’s frozen feet.”

  “I think,” Reuben said as he hefted the last pile of balsam onto the sleigh, “that she should walk like everyone else. Before we left I told her to go back and get warmer gloves and boots. It was a suggestion she chose to ignore.”

  “Chéri, she could get frostbite.”

  “She won’t,” Reuben said callously. “She has to learn, Mickey. I know she’s young, but she thinks we talk just to hear ourselves like she does. She can walk with the rest of us.”

  Bebe listened to the exchange with mixed emotions. Almost from the moment she had boarded the sleigh she’d been sorry she hadn’t run back into the house for warmer gloves and a hat, to say nothing of the boots. Silly, stupid pride made her automatically reject any suggestions from Reuben. Well, she was paying for it now; she’d never been so cold. The pity in Daniel’s eyes made her ashamed. The concern in Mickey’s face made her want to weep. But it was the anger and contempt she saw in Reuben that made her determined to walk back to the château if it killed her.

  She stared directly at Reuben, making a controlled effort to keep her teeth from chattering. “I think we should get started. It will be dark soon.”

  �
��Bravo!” Daniel whispered as he reached for her arm. She quickly pulled it away but smiled at him, a crooked little grimace.

  “I’ll get back on my own, Daniel. I can’t let him get the best of me. Not yet, anyway.”

  Daniel trudged alongside her. “Bebe, this isn’t a game. It’s not you against Reuben. You have to stop thinking there’s a contest between the two of you. Don’t spoil things with hate and anger.”

  “I don’t hate him, he hates me! I just don’t know why. These past weeks I’ve tried to do everything he said, and I hardly ever sass him back—but I just know he’s waiting for me to step out of line. He still isn’t satisfied. I didn’t ask to ride in the damn sleigh, did I?”

  Daniel hated it when he had to defend his friend. He liked Bebe. He liked the way she could laugh at herself when she made what she called one of her ridiculous mistakes. He liked the way she hunkered down to learn the French verbs. And when she made a mess of the language, her friendly little winks and crooked smiles delighted him. He particularly treasured her small confessions and some of the secrets she shared with him on their walks over the frozen fields. So often he wished that he could confide something in return, but he had no secrets, only hopes and dreams. He told her about the dog, and wanting to call it Jake. She’d smiled and said she understood. She’d confided in return that the nicest, the warmest feeling she’d ever felt in her life was when Mickey cradled her in her arms the first night she’d arrived. She wanted, needed family love, but she had nothing to give in return, so how could she expect anyone to give her something so precious? Be yourself, he’d said, the way you are with me. The rest will fall into place. And always, after every serious talk, she’d look at him with tears in her eyes and ask, “Why does he hate me, Daniel?”