by Cheryl Holt
She didn’t care about Lindsey being in a bar. There were all kinds of places in Hollywood where the management liked to welcome famous kids, and no one demanded ID. But Lindsey was clearly drunk, and she was ranting about how pathetic college was, how she never attended classes and had just enrolled for the parties.
Right that second, if Lindsey had been standing in front of her, Crystal might have strangled the stupid girl.
Crystal was spending tens of thousands of dollars in legal fees, her defense being that she’d laid out big cash for college because Lindsey had been so anxious to go. The entire basis of Crystal’s legal argument was that she was simply a doting mother who’d worked diligently to get her daughter accepted at the school of her dreams.
Now this!
She marched out of the suite and down the hall to Lindsey’s room. It was only eighty-thirty, so she couldn’t imagine Lindsey would be up yet, but Crystal had to speak with her anyway.
She yearned to pound the door down, to bellow Lindsey’s name, but the blasted building was full of wedding guests, and she couldn’t have any of them hear a ruckus and peer out to see what was happening.
“Lindsey!” she started murmuring, while rhythmically banging on the door.
She kept on, her voice growing louder, and finally, a very groggy, obviously hungover Lindsey answered her incessant knocking.
“What the hell, Crystal?” she complained. “It’s the freaking middle of the night. What do you want?”
Crystal pushed Lindsey inside and locked them in.
The room was a disaster, with Lindsey’s clothes scattered all over as if she’d needed an item in a suitcase and had torn through all of them in a frenzy. Empty liquor bottles were strewn on the floor, cigarette butts smashed out on counters and tables, and Crystal supposed they’d be buying the Inn furniture when they left.
Lindsey was dressed in only a bra and underwear, her makeup smudged, her hair snarled. The smell of alcohol on her breath was so potent that it could have knocked over a cow.
“Have you checked your phone this morning?” Crystal asked.
“Why would I have? I’m not awake. Geez! What’s wrong? Would you calm down?”
“This is what’s wrong!” Crystal yanked out her own phone, hit the play button on the video, and shoved the device in Lindsey’s face.
Lindsey watched it, her expression maddeningly blank, then she said, “OK. So . . . I hate college, and someone taped me when I was obsessing. We both know that’s my opinion, so what am I missing here?”
“You’re in a bar, drunk and underage, and you’re whining about college!”
“Again, Crystal, so what? This can’t be a surprise to you.”
“Have you any idea of the legal trouble I’m in? The scandal has blown up into a huge deal, and the masses are insisting that heads be chopped off as a warning to others. Have you paused for one minute to consider the ramifications for me? I could go to jail!”
“Don’t blame me,” Lindsey said. “I didn’t tell you to bribe that admission’s guy.”
Crystal seized Lindsey’s ear and twisted hard enough that she winced and jerked away. “You are not to utter the word bribe ever again. Not even when we’re alone! I didn’t bribe anybody. We agreed that would be our story.”
“Fine. You didn’t bribe him, but why are you in such a snit? It’s not a mystery to anyone that I party or that I hate school.”
“In a normal world, your attitude wouldn’t matter, but for some reason, this idiotic situation is ensnaring all sorts of unsuspecting people—including me.”
“Boo-hoo. Why are you nagging about it? And so early too!”
Crystal threw up her hands. “The video proves that you view school as a joke, and with you drinking, it looks as if I’m not a good mother.”
Lindsey snickered. “Is that what’s worrying you? Here’s a news flash, Crystal: You’re not a good mother.”
“We pretend I am! It’s part of our arrangement, remember? You don’t get to take a hammer and smash that façade. What would happen to my brand?”
“Does every little issue have to be about you?” Lindsey rubbed her temples. “I’m so hungover I could die, so can you badger me later when I’m not so miserable?”
Lindsey’s phone was on the nightstand, and it started to vibrate with messages, as if they’d been dumped into it all at once too. She went over and thumbed through them.
“Most of them are from Pippa,” she said. Pippa was their LA publicist. “She claims some of my sponsors have been contacting her, and they want to drop me. Why would they?”
“You’ve been exposed as a spoiled, drunken baby. No one likes you all of a sudden, and if we’re not careful, their disdain will rub off on me.”
“She’s demanding I call her.”
“Then you’d better—and fast. If this spirals out of control, Dennis will kill me.”
“Here’s another news flash, Crystal: Of all the topics concerning me at the moment, Dennis is so far down on the list that he’s not even on the list.”
Crystal advanced on Lindsey, and she was delighted to see her cringe as if she was afraid Crystal might slap her. Crystal never had, but maybe it was time she exhibited more authority over the annoying pest.
She grabbed a fistful of Lindsey’s hair and pulled her close so they were nose to nose. “You listen to me and listen good. This debacle could wind up impacting Dennis’s production deal, and if that occurs, he’ll blame me, which means I will blame you.”
“Ooh, I’m trembling in my boots.”
“You think this is funny? Just have one sponsor drop you, and an avalanche will bury both of us.”
“You’re always such a drama queen.”
“I am a drama queen? I’m not the one with my drunken face plastered all over the Internet this morning.”
“It will fade by tomorrow, as some other outrage captures all the attention. You’re making too much of it.”
“In my view, I’m not making nearly enough. Dennis is traveling today and will arrive this afternoon, so hopefully, he won’t have heard about it.”
“Yes, Dennis is definitely my biggest worry.”
“Can you actually assume we shouldn’t worry about Dennis? Have you looked at your life recently, Lindsey? Everything you have has come to you because I’m his wife. You ought to ponder that notion for a bit.”
“I’m popular, Mother. Everyone loves me.”
“If you’re so stupid you imagine it can’t vanish in an instant, then I don’t know what to tell you.” She flung Lindsey away, so hard that she crashed into a dresser and almost fell. “Sober up, Lindsey. Take a shower, and for God’s sake, send for a maid. Then call Pippa and figure out how to fix this mess. Don’t let me run into you outside this room until you have a plan in place to repair it.”
She stormed out, but once she was in the hall, she paused so her temper would cool. She steadied her breathing and smoothed her expression, then she continued on, strolling slowly and confidently, as if she ruled the world.
“Eric is supposed to be here shortly.”
“I’m excited to meet him.”
“I doubt you’ll like him. I don’t.”
Amy cast a wry glance at her sister, Rachel, and said, “We should keep that opinion to ourselves.”
They were seated on the Inn’s patio, about to have a family breakfast. With the parents’ supper cancelled the night before, Jennifer had been feeling particularly glum, so Amy had suggested the meal. She and Rachel had headed down first and were waiting for Jennifer, Kyle, and their dad to join them.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat down and chatted privately with Rachel, so the interval was a precious gift.
It was July, but the mountain air was crisp, and she’d worn a sweater. Off in the distance, there were white peaks covered with snow, and
she wondered how difficult it would be to rent a car and drive up into the high country. She also wondered if Josh might like to drive her, but she immediately scolded herself for being ridiculous.
It had been over a decade since she’d seriously flirted with a guy, and her relationship with him was stirring giddy and very unusual feelings of promise. She was intensely relishing their acquaintance, but then, she was lonely and lost and had been for years, so it wasn’t likely he shared her perception of what was happening. After they’d parted the prior evening, he probably hadn’t thought about her again.
As if he’d want to spend the day locked in a car with her!
She wasn’t his type, and she couldn’t forget that she wasn’t. She was in Colorado for her sister’s wedding, but also to contemplate her future. What if she left the commune? She could come home to live with her dad in Portland while she considered her next steps. Would she like that?
She was hoping, once the newlyweds flitted off to their honeymoon, she would be able to answer that question.
“Why don’t you like Eric?” she asked Rachel, when she should have let it go. Her sister liked to complain, and Amy shouldn’t encourage her. Rachel’s pessimism would simply cloud her own impression of the man who was about to be her brother-in-law.
“He’s too rich, too handsome, too . . . too . . . everything,” Rachel said.
“What’s wrong with being rich and handsome? I don’t believe it’s a crime.”
“You’ll meet him pretty soon. You’ll see what I mean. He’s so set on himself.”
“How is he with Jennifer though? Does he seem to love her? Can you tell?”
“He pretends to love her, but if we could torture him so he was truthful, I’m sure he’d admit he’s only ever loved himself.”
“Rachel!” Amy gently chided. “That’s a horrid comment.”
Her sister shrugged. “You asked what I thought.”
“Explain this to me: If he doesn’t love her, why would he propose? He could marry anyone, so why pick Jennifer?”
“We’ll be wrestling with that dilemma for years.” Under her breath, Rachel muttered, “If he sticks around for years—which I heartily predict he won’t.”
“Rachel! It’s such a beautiful morning, and we shouldn’t whip up negative energy. We should be cloaking Jennifer in positive vibes and wishing her the best.”
“This isn’t about energy or vibes. He claimed he was trapped in New York by bad weather, but after he bagged out on us, I checked the National Weather Service website. It wasn’t storming in New York yesterday. It was a sunny summer day.”
Their waiter had already poured coffee, and Amy had just taken a sip. She frowned and put the cup down on the saucer with a fierce smack. “Why would you tell me that?”
“Well, I can hardly mention it to Jennifer, can I?”
“If he wasn’t delayed by the weather, what would he have been doing?”
Rachel shrugged again. “Partying? Drinking? Screwing one of his girlfriends? Who can guess?”
Amy sighed. Rachel was a very unhappy person, but what if she was correct in what she’d discovered? Should Amy discuss it with her dad? What if Jennifer was heading for a disaster with Eric? The wedding was so close, so wasn’t it too late to worry?
She shoved the frantic concerns away. She never allowed gossip to darken her thoughts. She’d suffered through too many dark moments, and she never focused on what was awful or depressing. Rachel’s spite couldn’t ruin her mood.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said.
“Like what? I can’t imagine a more pertinent topic than Eric and what kind of husband he’ll be.”
“I’ve been debating whether I should move home.”
Rachel scowled. “Move . . . home? As in home, home—with me and Dad?”
“Yes. What would you think of that?”
“I didn’t expect you’d ever leave the commune, so I’m speechless.”
“I could watch Dad, so you could have a break.”
“I don’t mind taking care of him.”
Rachel didn’t really take care of him. He was fifty years old, in excellent health and possessed of all his faculties, so he didn’t need a nanny, but they acted as if she was his nanny. It was the defining aspect of her existence that her siblings had grown up and shed their childhoods, but she was stuck precisely where she’d started. She wore that burden like a heavy cross.
She always sent out snarky hints that indicated she was more devoted to their dad than they were, but there was an undercurrent of anger inside her that they’d escaped and she’d never had the chance. She seemed to have convinced herself that they had prevented her from going, and Amy assumed—if Rachel could finally fly away—she’d lose the power she had to make all of them feel guilty.
“Speaking of Dad,” Amy said, and she grinned, “did you notice he didn’t stagger in until nearly three o’clock?”
“No. Are you sure of the time?”
“Yes, I glanced at the clock.”
Rooms at the Inn were in short supply, so all five of them were staying in Jennifer’s suite. Jennifer and Rachel were sharing one bedroom, and Kyle and their dad were sharing the other one. Amy had arrived unannounced, so she was bunking on the sofa in the living room. When her dad had tiptoed in, she’d pretended to be asleep.
“Why would he have been out so late?” Rachel asked.
“Last night, after the parents’ supper was cancelled, he went down to the village to get a hamburger, but that was around six.”
“So he was gone for . . . what? Nine hours or there abouts?”
“Yes. Where do you suppose he was? Should we ask him?”
Their dad didn’t have much of a private life. He worked hard physically, to the point of exhaustion, and in the evenings and on the weekends, he vegged out at home. He didn’t belong to clubs, didn’t have a ton of male friends with whom to socialize. He was simply a family man who’d raised four children on his own, and that took up all his time and energy.
The notion of him disappearing for nine hours was odd and a bit alarming.
She and Rachel stared, then Rachel said, “I’m not bugging him about where he was. That would be too weird, but you can—if you want.”
“I just might. Maybe he met somebody, and if he has, I’d like to know who it was.”
“What do you mean that he might have met somebody? Like a . . . a woman? Don’t be silly. He wouldn’t be attracted to a woman. This is Dad we’re talking about.”
“He’s not dead,” Amy said, “and he’s buff—for his age—and very good looking. He might have gotten wedding fever, and he’s having a romance. It happens.”
“Who would have captured his attention? Every person here is thirty or under. He wouldn’t hit on a girl who was young enough to be his daughter.”
“What if it was a waitress down in the village?”
“It wouldn’t be,” Rachel mulishly declared, but she was dumbstruck and disturbed, as if the prospect was scary. After all, if their dad moved on with his life, she might have to move on with hers.
Amy’s grin widened. “He should be down to breakfast any minute. We’ll insist he explain himself.”
“If he’s not too tired to climb out of bed. He might not come down.”
“It’s definitely a possibility, and if he doesn’t show up, I’ll let myself believe the worst for a change.”
Or the best, she thought. As far as she knew, her father had never been close to another woman after their mother had died. He’d been too busy to enjoy himself. If there was a guest who’d tantalized him, how could that be a bad thing?
Amy couldn’t wait to pepper him with questions that would have him blushing like a teenager.
“You and I should party.”
At the comment, Kyle stopped and peeked around. Linds
ey Holliday was speaking, but he didn’t see her anywhere.
He was on his way to have breakfast with his sisters out on the patio, so it was fairly early, and he couldn’t picture Lindsey dragging herself out of bed before noon. He’d spent a hefty portion of the prior afternoon with her, and she was seriously whacked in the head.
For starters, she had a problem with alcohol, which was depressing. His family had suffered enormous tragedy because of Amy’s accident, and his father had dispensed plenty of lectures about it, but Kyle hadn’t needed to have them delivered.
He wasn’t stupid. He’d witnessed the devastation Amy had wrought, simply by being reckless.
He’d been six when it had occurred, so it had had the least impact on him of all four siblings. Most days, he felt as if he’d grown up to be the only one of them who was halfway normal. Then again, with their mom dying when they were little kids, there had probably never been a chance for any of them to be particularly stable.
His acquaintances teased him for his being a stick in the mud, but he didn’t listen. He was happy to be the sober guy in the room who could drive others home when they were too drunk.
He should have turned down the hall and continued on to the patio, but he went in the other direction and found Lindsey. She was with a dude named Sam who was the Inn’s hiking guide in the summer and ski instructor in the winter. He was macho and uber-handsome, and Jennifer’s friends were all drooling over him.
But Lindsey was nineteen, and Sam was really old. Thirty or even thirty-five? She was hitting on him, and it was creepy. The girl was so messed up!
“We should party,” she repeated. “You know you want to.”
“How old are you?” Sam asked her.
“Old enough,” she replied. Sam scoffed at that, and he tried to walk on, but she laid a hand on his arm and said, “I’m twenty-three.”