by Nicola Marsh
“I don’t think Justin would do something like this.”
“He’s my brother and I hate to think it too, but it’s all pointing to him.” His lips compress in determination. “Though everyone has access to the family bank account and that means anyone with half a computer skill can get into the rest of the company’s files, which is what I was doing when they threatened me to make me leave.”
My head aches with the implication it could be anyone in the family behind this farce. “So you suspect everybody?”
His nose crinkles as he shakes his head. “My money’s still on Justin but I need to find proof.”
I nod slowly and he touches me, a glancing brush of his knuckles against my cheek. “Keeping you and Shelley safe is my priority. I left to protect you, and it’s why I’ve come back. I hope you believe that.”
He appears genuine but I’m still reeling so I bite back the obvious response, “I do,” and say, “Please let me know as soon as you have anything definitive.”
Not that I can do much to help. It’s times like this I wish I could do more than write articles. Maybe if I had more interest in computers like Grayson, I could help him. Then again, about all I could manage was playing online games with him and I’d even sucked at that.
A small part of me wonders if my sudden interest in being able to help more has a lot to do with my ex-husband.
Hearing him admit he came back for Shelley and me sparks something within. Something that’s been dormant, something I deliberately blocked out because he hurt me so badly.
But if I believe him, he left to protect us. He did the chivalrous thing because he cared. Would I have done the same?
Stupid questions I have no hope of answering when I should be focusing on discovering if Grayson is right and someone in the family is behind everything. Because I can’t ignore the questions rolling around my head: is Justin doing this to be with me? In some warped way has he wanted to expedite the possibility of us getting together, even though it’s never been a foregone conclusion?
He’d garner a lot more sympathy if he’s a widower and waits the appropriate time before entering into another relationship. People will talk, yes, but they’ll feel sympathetic toward us; him for being a widower, me for being abandoned years earlier. It would certainly smooth the way, if I was crazy enough to let anything untoward happen. I ignore my voice of reason that whispers I already have.
Maybe getting rid of Ashlin has been his end game all along and having the rest of us suffer accidents is his way of throwing off suspicion?
“Be careful.” Grayson touches me again, resting his hand on my waist. “Don’t say a word to anyone.”
“Okay.”
On impulse I place a quick kiss on his cheek. It feels so familiar, this bond between us. We never had proper closure and having him back is reawakening feelings long buried. Which ensures I need to get away.
He snags my hand as I turn to leave. “For what it’s worth, leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did and if I could change everything I would.”
My heart aches with what might have been for us but I don’t reply. There’s nothing I can say. Actions speak louder than words and Grayson’s impacted my life long ago.
My car is parked on the road and as I head toward it I feel his stare boring into my back the whole way.
42
Ashlin
Surprisingly, my houseguest hasn’t worn out her welcome. Christine is so quiet I barely know she’s here and when we dine together she’s not a bad conversationalist. But I’m glad she’s made herself absent for now, hiding out by the pool to avoid Justin and give me some privacy.
By his abrupt tone on the phone earlier, he’s in a foul mood. I don’t care. I may have put up with his vagaries in the past, now I don’t have to.
I hear a key in the front door. It reminds me I must change the locks. Though technically this house is his too and I don’t want to antagonize him before we start the onerous divorce proceedings. It’s going to be bad enough without adding further rancor to the mix.
I glance in the mirror over the glass-topped hall table, grateful I look well put-together despite the crap I’m going through: immaculate make-up covering the last of my lingering bruises, shiny hair, designer denim jacket over a red polo and white capris. I want him to see what he’s missing out on. Then again, considering the infrequency of sex, let alone him looking at me, he won’t care what I’m wearing or how much time I’ve spent blow-drying my hair.
The door swings open and I’m taken aback. He’s wild-eyed and disheveled: top button undone, tie askew, shirt half tucked into the waistband of his creased pants. And the shadows under his eyes tell me insomnia is his new best friend.
“Are we alone?” He slams the door shut and strides up the hallway toward me.
I hesitate, not wanting to betray Christine’s confidence, but she is his sister and he does care. “In the house, yes, but Christine is outside.”
He glowers, like his sister being here is a personal affront. “Why isn’t she in rehab?”
“Long story, but she’s checking in later.” I muster my best condescending smile. “Why are you here?”
“I haven’t got time for your games,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair and adding to his messy aura. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“No, what are you talking about?” I wave away his ranting, aware it’s not wise to antagonize him when he’s in this mood but way past caring.
“Your dalliance with Aaron could cost the company a great deal.”
His voice is low and lethal. I think I prefer overt anger than this subtle fury and a frisson of fear skitters down my spine. Justin has never raised a hand to me but the way he’s glaring at me, like he’s hanging onto self-control by a thread, makes me increasingly nervous.
“I haven’t told him anything—”
“Bullshit. Mom thinks I don’t know but I did some digging and discovered they’re sabotaging our potential sale by undercutting and swooping in for the kill.” He advances toward me, a vein pulsing near his temple. “You need to stop.”
I want to say “or what” but I see the malicious glitter in his eyes and I know he’s hovering on the edge of losing it.
“I’m not your leak,” I say, managing to sound calm and in control when in fact he has me rattled and battling an insane urge to make a run for it.
“You’re pathetic, you know that?” His stare is scathing, like he wants to thump something and I hope it’s not me.
At that moment, the doorbell rings and we both glance at the door like it leads to the fabled Oz.
“Expecting company?”
“Not with you here,” I say, strolling toward the door like I don’t care what he says when in reality I’m glad someone has interrupted our tense chat. “I wouldn’t inflict your foul mood on anyone.”
He swears under his breath as I open the door to find Ria on my doorstep.
“Hey, Ria.” She looks as wild-eyed as Justin and I momentarily wonder if both of them lobbing here at the same time means bad news and I swing the door wide. “Come in and join the party.”
She hesitates when she catches sight of Justin, who does his best to appear relaxed, like our confrontation a few moments ago never happened. Bastard.
“Everything okay, Ria?” He moves toward the door to stand beside me and for a second I get the feeling he’d like to take my head and slam it into the frame.
He has an air of restrained fury about him, like he’s capable of anything, and I wonder what Ria would think of the real Justin, the man behind the mask he presents to the world.
She stares at him with barely disguised hostility and I hide my surprise. “Did you have anything to do with Ashlin’s accident?”
Shocked, my head swivels between them. Justin’s jaw has dropped while Ria is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, her body rigid with tension. She shoots me a concerned glance before refocusing on Justin through narrowed eyes.
A taut silence stretches before Justin shakes his head a little. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re online all the time at work.”
I’m totally confused. What would being online at work have to do with my accident? But Ria must have good reason to confront him like this so I let her run with it. I have no idea why she thinks my husband was part of my losing control of the car and running off the road. Unless… now it’s my turn to shake my head. Ria’s online a lot for her job too. Has she stumbled across a hint of impropriety at the Parker Partnership or something more sinister?
Did my vindictive husband not want to settle for divorcing me but wanted to get rid of me permanently?
“Actually, Mom’s the one with complete online control at work, not me.” He folds his arms and glares at Ria like she’s something nasty he’s stepped in. I’m stupidly, irrationally glad he doesn’t only reserve those disdainful stares for me. “She’s in charge of the IT department, oversees major projects personally and is the only one with access to all files.”
Ria blanches and sways a little. “May’s in charge of IT?”
“That’s what I just said,” he snaps, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “What’s all this about?”
“I have to go.” She spins on her heel and sprints back toward her car, leaving us both staring at her, then each other, wearing matching frowns.
“What the hell was that all about?”
He shrugs. “I have no idea but I’m going to find out.”
He takes out his cell and stabs at a few buttons. I don’t care who he’s calling but when I hear him say, “Mom, it’s me,” my curiosity is piqued.
I hate being privy to a one-sided conversation and it’s a short one.
“Ria’s in a tizz about you being our IT manager. Just giving you a heads-up she’s in a strange mood and may be headed your way.”
He pauses, nods. “See you later.”
When he hangs up, I say, “Your family is a bunch of tattle-telling, manipulative, assholes.”
“Which is why you fit right in but thankfully you won’t be a part of us for much longer,” he says, with a cryptic glare I have no hope of interpreting, before he marches out the door without a backward glance.
“Dickhead,” I mutter, wondering if eleven is too early to fix sangria for Christine and me.
I’ve tried to curb my drinking since my boozy confrontation with Justin following May’s birthday party precipitated our separation but after this latest bizarre confrontation, I need a drink, desperately.
43
May
Grayson doesn’t come inside immediately after Ria drives away. Instead, he stands at the top of the driveway like some lovesick puppy. I have no tolerance for that kind of behavior. It was his choice to abandon his family five years ago, he has to live with it and not stir up trouble now.
I don’t understand my youngest son, never have. It had been a relief when he’d taken off. The only reason he’d worked at Parker Partnership was because he wasn’t qualified to do anything else.
Now, as he trudges back inside, gaze glued to his cell, I wonder if he’ll tell me the truth about why he’s really returned home.
“You need to leave,” I say, when he finally slips the cell into his pocket.
“Why?” He doesn’t look surprised. In fact, his resignation reeks of a familiar meekness he’s always shown, apart from that odd standoff at the family meeting earlier.
“Because you’re messing with Ria and I won’t stand for it.”
“Ria’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I always found his blasé attitude to life infuriating. “Why are you really trying to get rid of me, Mom?”
I flounder for a moment, unwilling to divulge the truth just yet. “You’re upsetting family dynamics.”
He barks out a laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He straightens and unfolds his arms. “Or should I guess?”
He knows. I can see it in his eyes. “Everyone was doing fine before you came home—”
“You mean Ria and Justin were doing fine.” He shakes his head, anger pinching his mouth. “I’m not a complete moron. I see the way he looks at Ria, like he already owns her. And I get the feeling you’d be more than happy to facilitate that particular union.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not a matchmaker.” I don’t like anyone getting the better of me, least of all my youngest son who doesn’t give a crap about anyone but himself. “But I want Justin to be happy after all he’s been through and if Ria reciprocates his feelings, what’s wrong with that?”
“You’re delusional.” He jabs a finger at the ornate sideboard covered in family photos. “According to you, Justin and Ashlin were a match made in heaven when they first got together but I guess that only meant her fortune melded well with ours. And now she’s proven to not be a pushover, you don’t care if she sticks around or not…” He trails off, a slightly startled expression making his eyes widen.
I’ve had enough. “If you’re not leaving Chicago today, please find somewhere else to stay. You’re no longer welcome here.”
“Being kicked out of my childhood home. Nice.”
I don’t like the way he’s staring at me, like he sees too much and it repulses him. “You’ll always have a place here, Grayson, but now isn’t a good time.”
“It never is for you, Mom.” A corner of his mouth kicks up in a sardonic grin. “You’re the least maternal person I know. You’ve spent a lifetime treating your kids like possessions, trying to mold us into your vision of perfection. Only Justin is stupid enough to conform and even then you treat him like a lackey.” He snorts. “All you care about is your precious company, your obscene fortune and the Parker name. Everyone else is merely an adjunct to that.”
I don’t respond to his accusation. Besides, what can I say when my youngest is right?
“I’ll be out of here shortly,” he says, and with one last shake of his head he leaves me standing in the living room, staring at the family photos, looking forward to rearranging them.
“Could you do me a favor?”
He pauses. “Only you could turf me out but want me to help you before I leave.”
“My left knee is playing up and I need a script filled but the housekeeper has left for the day. Do you mind picking up my meds from the pharmacy? I’m expecting the gardener shortly, and we’d planned on having a discussion regarding new landscaping.”
I expect him to refuse and I wouldn’t blame him. But I’d instilled a sense of duty in all my children and he only takes a second before nodding, albeit reluctantly.
“Where’s the prescription?”
“On the hall table, alongside my purse and keys. Take the money from it. Use my car.”
He makes a pfft sound before stomping away. I wait until the front door slams before heading toward the front garden.
My visitor will arrive shortly and I need to be prepared.
I don’t like surprises. Never have. Like the time Percival brought an escort home for his thirty-fifth birthday and forced me to join in their depravity. Or the time he’d deliberately pushed me in the pool despite knowing my fear of water. Or the time he’d belittled me in front of investors because I’d dared bar him from my bedroom.
No, I don’t like surprises, not one bit.
I know what my visitor will say. After all, I’ve practically written this script.
I wish it hadn’t come to this. When I started down this path I envisaged many scenarios but not this one.
It saddens me. I thrive on being in control of everything and everyone.
But at what cost?
Grayson has been gone two minutes when a car reverses into my driveway. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror. I’m right. My visitor knows.
It makes what I have to do all the harder.
Without waiting to see if my visitor follows, I
turn and walk toward the back garden. This confrontation has to happen on my terms, where I can control the situation.
I know just the place to do it.
44
Ria
I have a bad feeling about this.
The moment Justin revealed his mother is the only one with access to all company files, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.
Is my sweet, supportive mother-in-law culpable in hurting her daughters-in-law?
I know she sees herself as the all-controlling matriarch, but there’s a big difference between being the boss and wanting to injure her own family. It’s ludicrous. Being head of the IT department in your own company and being able to create fake email accounts rerouted many times over are worlds apart. Not to mention the salient fact May has been targeted by whoever is behind this too.
I need answers. Grayson said he’s close to finding the culprit but I’m not willing to sit around and wait for concrete evidence while my daughter is at risk. I’ll do anything to protect her.
As I reverse up the drive I see May watching me. She’s serene as always, elegantly unflappable. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror but from a distance I can’t tell if she’s happy to see me or otherwise.
By the time I put the car into park, she’s walking toward the back garden.
“May, wait up—”
“Grayson’s calling for me, I think he’s hurt himself,” she calls out, glancing over her shoulder. “I asked him to re-plant a few shrubs and I think he’s injured his back.”
Grayson never had a green thumb but I guess May can coerce her children into doing anything if he’s helping her plant. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t know but he sounds bad.” She’s way ahead of me and I have to almost jog to keep up. She moves past the pool-house and follows the path behind the monstrous trimmed hedges that shield the back part of the garden from the house.
