by Jade Kerrion
Candace Brown, an African-American woman with tired eyes and a kind smile, opened the door. “Hello, Sheridan. It’s good to see you.”
Sheridan held out the the gift basket of food, which the woman accepted with gratitude. “Is Frances interested in going to the park today?”
“I expect she is. She’s dressed and in her wheelchair.”
Sheridan walked down the narrow hallway and into the living room where the six-year-old girl slumped in a wheelchair. Her face was slack and all her muscles flaccid. Her neck tilted to one side, as if her head were too heavy to support, and her thin hands, pale from lack of exposure to sunlight, were like sticks on the armrest of the wheelchair.
Her eyes were like black pinpricks in her face—not alert, but somehow aware. They followed Sheridan as she crossed the room to hug the little girl gently, scarcely making physical contact for fear of jarring the fragile child. She wrapped another blanket around Frances, made sure her feet were tucked in socks and warm booties, before wheeling her out the door. While they waited for the elevator, Sheridan stroked Frances’s blond hair. “It’s a beautiful day for the park. It’s sunny and not too cold, and everyone seems to be in a better mood than usual. Probably because it’s Christmas Eve.”
The elevator pinged and the door opened. Sheridan pushed Frances into the elevator and continued her monologue. “I love Christmas, don’t you? It’s full of joy, and the happiness just seems to overflow into the new year.” When the elevator opened on the first floor, Sheridan pushed the wheelchair through the dingy foyer and out into the bracing morning air. The park was a small patch of green, hardly deserving of the name, but it was pretty in spring and summer, though not so much in winter. The trees were straggly trunks and branches, stripped bare of leaves, although someone had draped a string of lights around the tallest tree. “I bet it’s lovely at night when the lights are on,” Sheridan said as she slid the wheelchair next to a bench before sitting down beside the little girl. She placed her hands over Frances’s gloved hands and told herself that she had imagined the faint movement. Frances did little consciously, but it did not stop Sheridan from wishing for a little bit more.
Recognition would be a good start.
Sheridan leaned over to look into Frances’s face, but the little girl’s eyes stared vacantly ahead, tracking random motions of passers-by, but not showing any awareness of her situation or of Sheridan.
“What did you think of Aria?” Sheridan asked, keeping her voice cheerful in spite of the familiar bite of despair. “She’s sweet, isn’t she? She loves fashion.” Would Frances have loved fashion, too? Sheridan thought the girl might have. Gently, she combed back the wispy strands of Frances’s hair. Next time, she would bring a little clip—perhaps something with a ladybug on it. Growing up, she had loved ladybugs; perhaps Frances did too.
A cynical part of her mind told her that she was projecting herself and the child she had been onto Frances, but what else was there for her to do?
“I hope you liked Tom too,” she continued softly. Perhaps someday she could share the truth she had locked away in her heart. If Tom were as amazing as he had proven to be so far, perhaps the day would come sooner rather than later. Sheridan leaned in close, her cheek pressed to Frances’s cheek, and smiled. The skin-to-skin contact sizzled through her, and the ache in her chest was so sharp that she had to consciously breathe through it.
“I brought a present for you.” Sheridan showed Frances the colorful gift bag and from it, took out two boxes. One was a hunter green velvet dress accentuated with white smocking, and the other was a pair of black leather shoes. “It’s for Christmas. I’ll come by tomorrow morning for a few hours together. You be sure to wear your dress and shoes, and we’ll take another Christmas picture.”
It would be their sixth Christmas spent apart, but for a few precious hours together, and if Sheridan had anything to say about it, it would be their last Christmas apart.
Sheridan’s pensive mood lingered long after she returned Frances to her foster family. The quiet ache usually lasted hours, but that time, Sheridan didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity. Tom would be picking her up in the evening. She would be meeting his family, including the sister he clearly loved, for the first time.
It would be the first time she would have met the family of any of her “dates.”
Never thought I’d get this far. She smiled at her reflection as she brushed her hair and scrutinized her makeup. But here I am. My life is finally on track after a ten-year detour.
Her dress was a simple white lace dress, the color offset by the gold jewelry she wore at her earlobes and around her neck. When the doorbell rang, she picked up her clutch and went to the door.
Tom stood outside in a dark gray suit. “Good evening.” He handed her a small box. “It’s not your Christmas gift. It’s just something for tonight.”
Inside was a corsage—a gorgeous white orchid with a dark purple heart, fringed with gold filigree. “It’s perfect with my dress,” she said with a smile as she allowed Tom to fasten it around her wrist. She held it up to the light on her porch. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome. Oh, I was wondering if you might be interested in hanging out on New Year’s Eve?”
“I have Frances.”
“And I have Aria. How about a night in front of the television, watching reruns until the ball drops in Times Square?”
Sheridan laughed. “Sounds perfect.”
“Great. It’s a date, then. Shall we?” He gestured to his waiting car.
The car was what she would have expected of him—a black BMW—all understated elegance. As Sheridan got into the passenger seat, Aria waved from the back. Sheridan smiled at the girl. “Hi. Is that from Chloe’s winter collection?”
Aria’s eyes brightened. “Yes, it is! My dress is new. My aunt bought it for me a few weeks ago. Do you like it?”
“Love it. The white panels add a lot of style to the simple, clean design. Would you like me to do up your hair before we get to the party?”
“Will you?” Aria shot her father an accusing stare. “He put clips in it, but didn’t know how to do anything else.”
“I love playing with hair. Just a minute. I’m going to run in and grab a few things.” Sheridan stepped out of the car. “Won’t be long.” She patted the lapels of Tom’s suit as she hurried back into her home. She found everything she needed on her dressing table, and grabbed her a large makeup mirror on the way out. Back at the car, she slid into the backseat next to Aria and handed her the mirror. “Here. Hold this.” She turned on the dim lights at the backseat.
“Are you sure you can do this in the dark?”
“I can do lots of things in the dark, and besides, it’s not really dark. Now, turn and sit with your back to me. Don’t move.”
“Looks like I’m the chauffer,” Tom said with a laugh. “It’s only about fifteen minutes away. Should I drive slowly?”
“No, we’ll be done in fifteen minutes. To be truly great, fashion has to be easy, natural, and sustainable.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Aria chimed in with her know-it-all voice. She rolled her eyes at the mirror. “He doesn’t know anything about style.”
“Oh, he has style, all right. It’s quite different from yours, but it’s perfect for him.” Sheridan winked at Tom before tuning her attention back to Aria’s dark hair. “You’ve got gorgeous hair. It’s just the right length for all kinds of styles. Do you want it mostly up or mostly down?”
Aria’s eyes widened. “You can put it up?”
“Yes, of course. It’s about what you want.”
“Up, please? It’s so much cooler.”
“Yes, especially around the back of your neck.”
Aria looked puzzled for a moment until Sheridan lifted up her hair and blew her breath out on the back of her neck. “Oh!” The little girl giggled. “I get it.”
For several minutes, the only sound was that of hair gathered and styled with the use of ubiquitous b
lack hairpins, two silver clips, and a dash of hair spray. “What do you think?” Sheridan asked finally.
Aria turned the mirror to study her reflection from all angles. “I look…different.” Her voice was touched with awe. “I look pretty.”
“You were always pretty. It’s a slightly different look for a party, and I think it suits you.”
Tom cut in. “And just in time too.” He pulled into a circular driveway. “I’ll let the valet park the car. I want to look at my pretty girl.” He turned around, and a grin spread across his face. “Wow, definitely a great look for you. Aunt Charlotte will love it.”
Aria beamed as she reached for her father’s hand. Tom glanced over his shoulder and offered his other arm to Sheridan. “Thank you,” he said.
“Oh, not a problem. When I was her age, I spent hours in front of the mirror playing with my hair. I remember what it was like, pretending to dress up and go to a tea party.”
“A tea party?”
“A la Alice in Wonderland. Cocktail parties don’t show up in kids’ storybooks until much later.”
“This party, unfortunately, is going to be a little larger than most. My brother-in-law tends to combine business with family with pleasure.”
“Makes sense. Why have a dozen small parties when you can have one large one? Does your sister have any children?”
Tom shook his head as they walked through the marble-floored foyer and entered the elevator that would whisk them up to the penthouse. “They’ve only been married for four years. This is Mitch’s second marriage, though. He has a son from an earlier marriage.”
“It’s great when people have a second chance at love,” she said.
Aria peered up at Sheridan. “Is this your second chance too?”
Why did she ask that? Sheridan smiled faintly. “I’m not sure I had a first.”
Aria gave her father a suspicious look. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Tom’s eyes widened, and Sheridan stifled a giggle as he turned red. “I…don’t think it’s a suitable discussion for right now.”
“Why not? Lindsey’s mom has a boyfriend. Lindsey says it’s her mom’s third boyfriend since her daddy left last year.” Aria slipped her other hand into Sheridan’s, a gesture that suddenly made Sheridan’s heart beat faster. “My daddy doesn’t have any girlfriends. He just works all the time.”
“Surely not all the time.”
“Well, he takes me to parks and stuff. Last year we went skiing. Have you ever gone skiing?”
Sheridan shook her head.
“It’s super fun. You should have Daddy take you too. The hot chocolate is awesome. And they have marshmallows. I bet Frances would like that.”
Tom chuckled dryly. “The highlights of Aspen. Hot chocolate and marshmallows.”
The elevator opened into a party in full swing, spilling out of the penthouse into the elevator lobby. Almost immediately, Sheridan could see that it would be a real trial squeezing through the crowd. Apparently, Tom had come to that same conclusion. “Why don’t you and Aria wait here? I’m going to find my sister. I want to introduce you to her. What kind of drink would you like?”
“A white wine.”
“Any preference? Sweet? Dry?”
“Sweet, if they have one.”
“I’ll see what I can find. Juice for you, Aria?”
Aria’s chin lifted. “A cocktail.”
“We’ll see.” Tom chuckled and then disappeared into the crowd.
Sheridan’s gaze flicked over the well-dressed guests, more classy than stylish. She had made the right call on her dress; she blended in perfectly into the upper class, professional Manhattan crowd. “It looks like a fun party.”
Aria shrugged as if she attended such parties every day, but her eyes were eagerly scanning the people at the party, as if searching for familiar faces.
How amazing it was to be part of a family, to go to a party and expect to be welcomed by friends and family, by people who knew you, people who cared.
“Elyse?” A familiar voice cut through her thoughts.
She turned to see Mitch Ryan. Like Tom, he wore a suit and he walked up to her. His confused glance shuttled between her and Aria for a few moments. “Hello, Aria. Where’s your dad?”
“He went to find Aunt Charlotte.”
“Okay,” Mitch said, before looking back at Sheridan. “I didn’t realize you knew Tom Lancaster.”
“We met about a month ago. I certainly wasn’t expecting to see anyone I knew here at this party.”
Mitch’s expression grew even more confused. “But it’s my—”
“There you are.” A woman’s brittle voice cut into the conversation. A thin woman, almost vibrating with nervous energy, pushed forward through a crowd that parted for her, like the Red Sea for Moses. There was something bright and vindictive in her eyes as she looked at Sheridan and then at Mitch. “I didn’t think you’d have the audacity to invite her.”
“Her?” Mitch stared at the woman. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s bad enough that you’re having an affair, but when you invite her here—”
“Whoa, you think I’m having an affair with Sheridan?”
“She’s an escort, isn’t she?”
Sheridan sucked in a deep breath, feeling as though she had been punched in the stomach.
The crowd, which had fallen silent at the start of the woman’s tirade, began to titter.
Mitch stepped forward, setting himself between Sheridan and his wife. “You’ve got this all wrong. I met Elyse at the shelter—”
“Where you met me. Only I suspect she wasn’t a volunteer.” The woman’s voice dripped sarcasm. “It’s turning out to be quite a modus operandi of yours, isn’t it? Pretend to do some good at a shelter for battered women while scouting out the women who come in.”
Mitch’s eyes narrowed. His shoulders were tensed as he strode forward and set his arm on the woman’s back. “We’ll talk about this privately.”
She pulled herself free with a jerk. “No, we can talk about it now. I have evidence. Tom got it for me.”
Tom?
Sheridan looked—really looked—at the woman, finally seeing her faint resemblance to Tom. His sister, Charlotte.
Then…Tom…
The truth shattered the world that was as fragile as glass.
Tom had never been attracted to her, let alone cared about her. The entire month had been a lie—his brilliant, successful attempt to get close to her, to ferret out the truth. And if the truth wasn’t good enough, he would settle for a lie.
Tom’s voice sliced through the fog in her brain. “Here’s your wine—” He stepped through the crowd and jerked to a stop, his glance flashing from his sister, to Mitch, to Sheridan. “What the—damn it.” He crossed over to Sheridan. “This isn’t—let me explain.”
She looked up at him and pasted a smile over her face to keep it from crumpling like a heartbroken child. “There’s nothing more to explain. Your sister has already said it all. The only thing I can’t believe is how I fell for it; how I fell for you thinking that you were somehow different, special, when all this time, you were toying with me.”
“No, it’s not what you think it is.” Tom stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
She closed her ears to the plea she heard in his voice. She could only be an idiot so many times before she learned, and this time, she had well and truly learned her lesson. Men took. They took and took. They did not give. Not unless there was a price they could extract that exceeded the value of the gift.
And if any man said he loved you—
But Tom hadn’t said it. He had never spoken the words, but he had set her eyes on the future. He had gotten her to dream again.
All lies.
Behind her, the elevator chimed softly and the doors opened. A well-dressed couple stepped out and immediately paused at the silent, bristling tension in the lobby. Sheridan’s smile twisted into a self-mocking smirk. Well, it was time to t
ake herself out of the equation. Mitch and his wife had issues to sort out, but she would be damned if she was dragged into and blamed for something that had nothing to do with her.
She stepped into the waiting elevator, but Tom rushed forward, squeezing in just before the doors closed. “Listen, please.”
“I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
“It’s not what you think. Damn it, please let me explain.”
“Perhaps I should explain.” The tension clawed at her spine, stiffening her shoulders. “I met Mitch two years ago when I returned to the women’s shelter that had given me food and a bed for the night when I arrived in New York City six years earlier. I wanted help—legal advice—on how to adopt the daughter I had given up.”
Tom did not look surprised at the mention of her daughter. Apparently, he had dug deep enough to find out about Frances. Bracing herself against the stab of pain in her heart, she continued. “The manager of the shelter put me in touch with the board of directors, and Mitch offered his company’s resources to help with the paperwork and the legal system. Since then, I’ve been meeting regularly with him and his company’s legal staff. I’ve never seen Mitch one-on-one. It’s always been in the presence of someone else, which should make it perfectly safe unless you think I’m whore enough to indulge in gang bangs.”
He flinched at her deliberate crudeness. “I never thought you were having an affair.”
“But apparently your sister did and you were happy to feed the lies.”
“I didn’t. I told her there was nothing happening between you and Mitch.”
“But she set you on me, didn’t she? Turned loose her hound to dig up the dirt on me. Well, congratulations. You found it. In fact, fool that I was, I gave it to you, because I trusted you.” The elevator chimed and the door opened. Sheridan stepped out onto the first floor. “Go back to your party, Tom. Go back to your life.”
“No, Sheridan, please. Will you let me explain?”