“You don’t understand. This woman is stalking me, insisting on helping me.”
“Which is it? Stalking or helping?”
“Both.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want her help!”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
“Like you didn’t want my help in the beginning.”
“Exactly.”
“And now here you are calling me for help.”
“You’re different.”
“How?”
“You don’t have a hidden agenda.”
“And she does?”
“Of course she does. Why else would she be trying to help me?”
“What is her hidden agenda?”
“I don’t know, but there’s got to be one.”
“You’re making judgments based on what you don’t really know. Maybe she just has a good heart.”
“Bullshit. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Want to know what I think?”
“Go ahead,” she said through a sigh.
“Before you write her off, understand where she’s coming from. And then, if you still think she’s got an ulterior motive, avoid her.”
“We have nothing in common. She’s rich, and I’m not.”
“So? Look, I’m not here to tell you what to do about this woman or any other person in your life. That’s completely up to you. I’m just saying, it will always have a better outcome if you take time to understand people. If they’re truly up to something, at least then you’ll have given them a chance and a concrete reason for avoiding them.”
Cassandra gave Jessivel two contact names for job leads—one of whom was Renaldo Vargas with Goodwill Industries.
Get to know Paige better—right. She knew all she had to know. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing positive about knowing her—the little interaction she’d had with her had only made her feel worse, not better. Paige West was not someone she wanted or needed in her already screwed-up life.
Chapter 31
Paige filled Natalie in on the beginning of Tim and Hank’s story. They sat in the living room and talked without any negative discourse—something Paige felt very satisfying.
“So how do you think they knew about the ring?” Natalie asked.
“You heard them. Their mother gave it to Dad.”
“You believe that?”
“How else would they know about it?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t trust them. And did you catch that one of them kept referring to the ring as having a ‘stone.’ That was a diamond in that ring.”
“Even so, it’s pretty small. I can’t believe it’s worth that much…like he said.”
“And one is a doctor and the other a college professor? Really?”
“It could be true. They seemed well-educated,” Paige said, not knowing why she was defending them.
“So you believe them about Dad being their father?”
“They knew an awful lot about him. Like his old Army buddy’s name. How else would they know that? And knowing what I now know about Dad, yes, I do.”
“What do you know about Dad that I don’t know?”
Paige filled her in about Jessivel, the letter their father had written to their mother before he died, and the elusive Emma.
“You’re frickin’ crazy. Dad wasn’t like that.”
“Apparently, he was, and the ring proves it.”
“Where is it now?”
“Jessivel has it.”
“Why does she have it?”
“According to her, Dad gave it to her sometime before he died.”
“Why her?”
“I don’t know.”
“And now these two jerks want it.”
“Natalie, they weren’t jerks. They were very polite and appeared sincere to me.”
“You’ve always been the gullible one.”
“What are you talking about? I am not gullible.”
“If you believe this Jezebel character and those two Ayrabs—”
“It’s Jessivel, and those two gentlemen have names.”
“Gullible and polite. Woo hoo!”
“Whatever.”
“Well, I find their story a little hard to swallow,” Natalie said with her arms crossed. “You can believe what you want. So, what are you going to do now? Hand the ring over to them?”
“I can’t. Jessivel has it. And besides, it was a gift—first to Dad and then to Jessivel—so legally, it’s hers.”
“If you believe her.”
“Why would she lie about it?”
“’Cause she needs the money, stupid. She probably stole it.”
So much for having a constructive conversation. Paige stared at her for a moment while she counted to five in her head. “She keeps it on a chain around her neck. And even though she could have, she didn’t sell or pawn it.”
“Go ahead and keep believing these characters, big sister. See where it gets you.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Do whatever you want to do, and I’m sure you’ll end up on top…like always.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“C’mon Miss Paige Perfect West.” Natalie spat the words out as she rose from her chair. “You know damn well what I mean. Mom and Dad worshiped you. You were always their favorite.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Give me a break. You were the one in the school plays, on the cheerleader squad, straight A’s. How could I compete with that when I could do nothing right?”
“Since when was it a competition?”
“No matter what I did, I would always look bad following you.”
“I don’t know where you—”
“And do you think for a minute I wanted to wear all your stupid hand-me-downs? Yeah, right. That was special,” she said. “No wonder I’m the way I am today,” she said walking away from Paige toward the stairs to her old bedroom where she’d taken up residence.
“I had to be that way,” Paige said. “I had no choice.”
Natalie spun around to face her. “Now, what are you talking about?”
Paige looked down at her lap and thought through what she was about to tell Natalie—a story she had never shared with anyone before.
“There was nothing I wanted more as a kid than to spend time with Dad. I did everything I could to get his attention and his approval,” she said, trying to suppress her emotions. “I can still remember bringing home straight-A report cards and waiting for him to see it—sometimes for days. And then one time I got a ‘B’ in fourth-grade history. Mr. Krueger’s class. I hid the report card under my mattress. Never showed it to anyone because I was so devastated by it, ashamed of it, and I thought he would be, too. The next day, I overheard Dad say something to Mom that I will never forget. ‘A son wouldn’t have…’ I can’t tell you the rest of his sentence because I ran into my room and cried my eyes out. From that point on, I vowed to myself that I would never fail at anything. I would never make Dad wish he had had a son instead of me.”
Natalie’s facial expression softened as Paige told the story. “The rest of his sentence may not have had anything to do with you,” Natalie said. “He could have been talking about anybody.”
“In my nine-year-old mind, it had everything to do with me. After that, I worked my ass off at everything to please him, because I knew I couldn’t live with his disappointment.” She paused to reflect on what she’d just said, something she’d never said out loud or even admitted to herself. “And if that made your life difficult, I’m sorry. It certainly wasn’t intentional.”
Paige got up and quietly left her mother’s home. Once in the seclusion of her car, she cried, not understanding in the moment exactly why.
Several hours and two glasses of wine later, Paige sat in her living room in front of her laptop, staring at the notes she had written. Google had brought her nothing on Hanik Noor, the s
upposed U of I professor, which was of course suspicious. She had found several references for Tamir Noor, apparently a common name, and one of them was listed as a pediatrician associated with a San Francisco children’s hospital. But the listing didn’t include a photo or any other identifying information, so she couldn’t verify it was really him. She tried the reverse look-up site for cell phone numbers but couldn’t find either one listed anywhere. Not understanding what the lack of information told her, if anything, she called her detective friend.
Gary laughed. “I’m going to have to start charging you,” he said after Paige explained what she wanted.
“And that would be okay,” she responded. “Although I don’t know how your department would feel about that.”
“Hold on a minute. I can check something really quick for you.” They chatted while he hunted for the phone numbers. “Well, it looks like both phones are burners, and most resellers don’t keep track of their inventory.”
“English please.”
“Burners are prepaid disposable cell phones. You can buy them anywhere, even the Dollar Store carries them. But retailers typically don’t keep track of who they sell them to. Too much paperwork with no real benefit to them.”
“Why do people use them?”
“For anonymity mostly. They’re virtually untraceable.”
“Great.”
She pondered Tim and Hank’s motive while in bed that night. It had to be more than her father’s ring like they said. Unable to fall asleep, she went back to her computer and keyed in the surname “Noor.” Over two hundred thousand hits. Tamir had to be her father’s son. Her mother wouldn’t have added his name to her will otherwise. And he knew too much. Of course, that didn’t explain Hanik. Perhaps her mother was unaware of him.
The two men could easily have been of mixed race, adding to their credibility. But all they wanted was the ring, they had said. They didn’t want to know more about their father, which now that she thought about it was strange. And their speeches seemed like they could have been rehearsed.
Realizing that she was now overthinking the situation, she put it aside, but not for long.
The following day, she set up a group FaceTime call with “the girls” and told them the latest.
“You have got to start writing mysteries, Gayle,” Valerie said. “You can’t make this stuff up, and Paige is giving it all to you for free. Are you taking notes?”
“I know. I only wish it were steamy sex stuff I could use.”
“Stop.”
“You mean with lots of stroking, rubbing, and moaning?”
“You guys are incorrigible. Now what do you think about how these guys knew about—”
“Don’t forget to throw in strong fingers. I love when you do that.”
“Does anyone care about me and my problems?” Paige asked.
“Make it happen, Big Boy! Remember that line?”
“I’ll never forget it! And what about ‘His lips found pleasure in myriad places’?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Ha! How about ‘the fleshy mounds of juicy desire’? Did y’all like that one?”
“All I remember is when I read the line in your last book about the guy describing ‘the sweetness of her nectar,’ I didn’t know if I had the urge to have sex with my husband or prune the peach tree.”
“’Bye, girls.”
In her office the next morning, just as she was about to dial the hospital, Paige’s phone rang.
“Thanks a lot for letting me know Ryan died,” the man said, the voice unmistakably belonging to her ex-husband Leland, whom she hadn’t seen or spoken with in several years.
“Hello, Lee. I’m fine, thank you, and you?”
“I loved that man. He and I got along like brothers. The least you could have done was let me know he died.”
“I’m sorry. I thought of it too late.”
“Really? Well, how about if you had called me when you did think about it? Would that have been so hard?”
“I said I was sorry.”
No response.
“Lee?”
“I’m still here.”
“So how did you find out?”
“Natalie called me.”
“Natalie?”
“Your sister. Remember her?”
“Don’t be a smartass. When did she call you?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“I see.”
“She also told me about the two Indian dudes who are claiming to be your half-brothers.”
“She did, did she.”
“Don’t trust them.”
“That’s what she told you?”
“She didn’t have to. I know a little about them, well, one of them.”
“What do you know?”
“Your dad and I were close, remember? He told me things.”
“He told you things, and you didn’t tell me? When was this?” she asked, feeling a bit betrayed, something she had never felt during their ten years of marriage.
“After you dumped me, so it doesn’t actually count.”
“I didn’t dump you.”
“Call it what you want—from this end, it felt like I was dumped.”
His words brought a flush of shame to her cheeks. She took a moment to unburden the guilt before responding. “So what did he tell you that you didn’t feel the need to tell me, even if we were divorced?”
“You’re upset with me for not telling you, aren’t you?”
“I’m not upset. What did he tell you?”
“I think you are.”
“Would you just tell me?” she shouted.
“Calm down, sweetie. He told me about this son.”
“What did he tell you about him?”
“That he met his mother in some sleezy bar in Mumbai, I think, when he was stationed over there. Got her pregnant, felt guilty about it, and then kept sending her money over the years until the boy was eighteen.”
“There weren’t two boys?”
“He only told me about the one—a kid with striking blue eyes I remember him saying. Natalie said the guys you met had dark eyes, almost black, so something is fishy.”
“Did he tell you his name?”
“If he did, I don’t remember it.”
“Okay, go on.”
“Have dinner with me.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not being funny. I don’t like telling you this over the phone. And besides, it would be good to see you again.”
Stunned on two levels—that her ex-husband knew personal things about her father that he hadn’t shared with her and that he seemed sincere about dinner—Paige mulled over the right response. She had initiated the divorce, claiming they had married young and grown in different ways, making them incompatible. While not the real reason, it had been accepted by everyone in her circle of friends and apparently even Leland—he had never fought the divorce, hadn’t even hired an attorney.
“I’m interested in hearing more about what you know about my father, so, yes, let’s get together.”
“How about tonight?”
His eagerness made her nervous. “Okay. Are you still downtown?”
“Yes.”
“Still at MacComb and Little?” Leland had worked in the company’s accounting department during their marriage.
“Yes, but now I’m their controller.”
“Impressive. We can meet somewhere downtown, if you like.”
“No, I’ll come to you. How about Michael’s? Seven o’clock?”
Michael’s, a French restaurant they had enjoyed on special occasions, was out of the question.
“How about Nick’s? We can get in there without a reservation.” And it’s less romantic, she thought.
“We already have a reservation at Michael’s.”
Really?
“I prefer Nick’s if you don’t mind.”
“Nick’s it is. I’ll see you there.”
Chapter 32
>
“You don’t know what it’s like to be me in this school, Mom,” Kayla said to Jessivel. “They look at me like I’m from some other planet. I’m such an outcast.”
Kayla’s father had a Caucasian/Black mother and an Asian father, giving him and now Kayla an intercontinental look that most people couldn’t readily identify. Jessivel had not explained her multiracial lineage with her as yet, thinking she was still too young to fully understand it.
“I think you’re overreacting a bit. They’re probably looking at you because they’re jealous that you’re so pretty.”
“Right. Even if they were, which they’re not, I’m the only one who looks like me in the whole school.”
“I find that hard to believe.” They lived in a very diverse neighborhood.
“Well, I am.”
“Even if you are, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah? Try eating lunch all alone every day. At least the other kids have phones they can pretend to be looking at. I don’t even have that. I don’t want to be different, Mom—I want to fit in. And then you make it worse by not letting me do anything.”
“Like what?”
“Like I told you the basketball coach said I was a natural to play, and you wouldn’t let me.”
“Because it costs money—money I don’t have.”
“And look at these clothes. I’m the worst-dressed kid in class. They’re all laughing at me.”
“They are not.”
“How do you know? You’re not there.”
“Aren’t there any kids from around here, in this building, in your class?”
“Not that I’ve ever seen, and how would I know they lived here anyway?”
“Well, you’re going to have to deal with it. Make some friends.”
“It’s not that easy, Mom.”
“Just walk up to someone and start talking. You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Jessivel said.
“I wouldn’t know what to say. I’d sound stupid.”
“Say, ‘Hey, I like your backpack. Where did you get it?’”
“That sounds lame, Mom.”
“So, come up with something else then. It’s not that hard.”
“Right. You do it, if you think it’s so easy,” Kayla said before retreating to her room.
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