by Mary Campisi
Pendleton’s lips twitched. “I understand there’s a bit of trouble in that area.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Had Christine said something to him? She wouldn’t, would she?
“I can’t divulge my sources.” He shrugged and jingled his keys. “I give them up and the information stops, but word has it there are problems between you two, and she’ll be back in Chicago by Christmas.”
“That’s a lie.” Pendleton shrugged again. What would the asshole look like with a black eye? Or a bruised jaw? He acted as though Nate and Christine weren’t even married, or if they were, not for long. Was he really so arrogant to assume he’d swoop in and sweet-talk Christine out of her marriage? Yeah, he looked the type. That took a lot of guts, though, and this guy seemed more calculating, like he’d want some assurances before he’d commit the time and effort to win Christine back. Had someone given him a reason to think he stood a chance? He’d bet the business Gloria Blacksworth was behind this.
“Did my mother-in-law send you?” The look on Pendleton’s face gave him his answer. “Damn her.”
“Nate! Nate!” He turned and spotted Lily moving toward him as fast as her small legs could carry her. When she reached his side, she peered up at him and smiled. “Want a chocolate shake? Mom said I can get one while she shops.” She hazarded a shy glance toward Connor Pendleton who watched her with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
“No, thanks, honey. You go on inside and I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” Her gaze swept over Pendleton again. “Hi.” She inched closer, studied him from behind her thick glasses. “Are you Connor?” she asked in a soft voice. “Christine’s old boyfriend?”
The man cleared his throat, apparently uncomfortable with the implication of past tense. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all, maybe what had him so jumpy was Lily. Nate tensed as the possibility surged through him, igniting a rush of anger. Pendleton nodded and said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” His voice gentled. “And who are you?”
Lily beamed, her smile spreading with innocence and excitement as she thrust out her hand at Christine’s ex-boyfriend. “Lily, Lily Desantro. Nate’s my brother.” She paused, the smile grew. “And Christine’s my sister.”
It did not take a psychologist to analyze Connor Pendleton’s reaction. He dropped Lily’s hand and stepped back. “What?”
“Nate’s my brother and Christine’s my sister,” she repeated, in a patient voice. “And they got married.”
“Oh. Oh, I see.” Pendleton laughed and shook his head. “You mean she’s your sister because she married your brother. That makes sense.”
“That’s not what she means at all.” Nate turned to Lily and said, “Go order your chocolate shake and I’ll see you in a minute. Okay?”
“Okay. See you in a minute.” She raised a hand and waved. “Bye, Connor.”
“Good-bye, Lily.”
When she disappeared inside the café, Nate faced him. He’d bet Gloria hadn’t planned on Pendleton running into Lily. That was the thing about duplicity; you just never knew how it was going to play out. “Lily’s my sister, but she’s Christine’s, too.”
Pendleton’s hands fell to his sides, the keys jingling against his thigh. “But…how can that be?”
“You’re a smart man, figure it out.” The tone in Nate’s voice must have given Pendleton the answer, because Nate spotted the exact second when the guy put it all together. “Charles Blacksworth was her father?” The question reeked of dread and improbability.
“Like I said, you’re a smart man.”
Pendleton stared at the door to the café as though he could see inside, to Lily, to her life. “Do you know…who had the…” he stopped, started, “…the condition?” he finally managed. “Is that on your mother’s side?”
The jerk wanted confirmation that the Blacksworths hadn’t been responsible for that extra chromosome. Why? So he could continue to pursue Christine? “I have no idea.” It was the truth. “Does it matter?” That was the bigger question.
Pendleton ran a hand through his perfect hair, making it stick out and look not quite so perfect. “Of course it does.”
“Well, it shouldn’t.” Nate blew out a disgusted sigh. “I guess that means you’re not so interested in my wife anymore, worrisome genes and all that. Can’t have a glitch in the Pendleton dynasty now, can we?” The man turned red and looked away. “Get the hell out of here, and make sure you tell Gloria I’m waiting for her.”
Chapter 11
“Blacksworth residence, may I help you?”
Christine clutched the phone and forced out the dreaded words. “I’d like to speak with Gloria, please.”
“Yes, ma’am. May I ask who is calling?” The voice on the other end was young, fresh, innocent. How long until Gloria suffocated its owner with her demands and complaints? Created an environment that was both hostile and uninhabitable? She’d done it with everyone else; she would attempt to manipulate this person, too.
“Christine.”
A second extra air exchange before the young woman’s voice filled with excitement. “Just a moment. I’ll get her for you right away.”
Poor thing. She obviously knew Christine was the long-lost daughter, but who knew what Gloria had told her about the reason behind the absence? Whatever it was, it would be a grand lie, weighted in Gloria’s favor to make her appear the unselfish mother, the giver of love, time, and life with no expectation in return. And what had she received for such devotion to her only daughter? Abandonment at her greatest time of need: the death of her husband. Poor, sorrowful mother. What the young woman who had answered the phone didn’t know was that Gloria had most likely plotted to break up her daughter’s marriage. Nice mother.
“Christine?” Gloria’s cultured voice held a hint of surprise.
What an actress. Surprise indeed. “Hello, Mother.”
“It’s wonderful to hear from you.” A pause and then a cautious, “Are you in town?”
“No, and don’t pretend you didn’t expect me to call the second Connor left.”
“Connor?” That did sound like unrehearsed confusion. “Is he there?” There was a slight hesitation before the next question slipped out. “In Magdalena?”
“He was, but I expect he’s on his way back now. How could you do this?”
“Connor was in Magdalena? Does he know about the girl?” Pause. “And the mother?”
“Of course not.” She would not subject her sister to Connor’s insensitive gawking and inquiries.
Gloria blew out a long breath. “I had no idea he would travel to that place. I told him to wait…”
“Really? Told him to wait and see if my marriage fell apart because of your little deal with Natalie Servetti?”
“Who? I’m to blame for your marriage issues? I’d say it’s more to do with marrying beneath you than whatever you think I’ve done.”
All these months, and nothing had changed. “You would try to break us up because you don’t like the man I chose.”
“I don’t like anything you’ve done this past year, but what can I do about it, other than wait for you to come to your senses? It’s a terrible thing to put a mother through, especially after your father’s death.” She sniffed. “You abandoned me, Christine, left me all alone with no one.” Another sniff.
“Stop it, Mother. Those tactics don’t work on me anymore.”
“You have no idea how it pains me to hear you talk that way.” She sniffed louder, more compelling.
It had been a mistake to call. Mother or not, Gloria wasn’t going to confess to anything, especially not her role in Natalie Servetti’s photo shoot. “Good-bye, Mother. I won’t be calling again.”
Click. Christine tossed the phone on the desk and stared at the wedding ring on her left finger. Some people were not meant to be parents and her mother was one of them. What did she know about unconditional love and sacrificing for the good of family? It had always been Gloria’s needs first, secon
d, third, and everyone else’s after that. That kind of selfishness bred dysfunction and discontent. Christine didn’t want that with Nate, couldn’t stand to think about a life where their children were treated as possessions to be manipulated and filled with guilt. Her relationship with Nate must be based on genuine trust and respect, even if that trust might at times require blind faith.
She snatched the phone and dialed Nate’s cell, but when it went into voicemail, she hung up and decided to try Betty. That woman knew everyone’s whereabouts, even when she wasn’t supposed to. Before Christine had a chance to finish dialing, the door to her office burst open and her husband appeared. “Nate. I was just trying to call you.”
“Guess I saved you the trouble.” Something in his voice bothered her. Was he angry? Since the night they’d slept together, there’d been a shift in the relationship, a calming that hinted at reconciliation. Surely he’d felt it, too. She watched as he flipped the Open sign to Closed and locked the door.
“Nate? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t respond until he was a foot away, close enough to touch her if he chose to, which he did not. His mouth stretched to a thin line, his eyes narrowed and turned cold. “I just met Connor Pendleton.”
That was the last thing she expected to hear. “What? How?”
Nate leaned against the desk, crossed his arms over his chest. “Betty said she spotted you in Lina’s having lunch with Mr. GQ. I didn’t think much of it until she mentioned the Illinois plates. That’s when I knew it had to be your old fiancé.”
“Nate.” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as though he’d already shut her out and there was no chance he’d let her back in. “I didn’t know he was coming. He just showed up.”
“That’s a long drive to just show up and damn convenient, isn’t it? The ex-boyfriend suddenly appears at a time when things aren’t exactly going well for us, and what, promises to take you away from the misery of living with me?” Anger mixed with pain seeped into his words. How could he believe she was interested in anyone but him?
“What Connor is or isn’t offering doesn’t matter because I’m not interested. And just so you know, my mother put him up to it.”
His jaw tensed. “Of course she did.”
“She led him to believe you and I weren’t getting along and there was hope for him.”
“Right.” He rubbed his jaw and studied her. “She’s one busy woman, isn’t she? What about Natalie? Was Pendleton in on that, too?”
Christine shook her head. “No, but I’m almost positive my mother was. I called her a few minutes ago and confronted her. Of course, she denied everything, but I know she was lying.”
“Hmmph. Nice.”
She was tired of talking about an ex-boyfriend and a manipulative mother who were part of a past she would rather forget. Nate and the baby were her future. “Look, I’m sorry for doubting you. Trust has never come easy to me, especially when everything points in the opposite direction. Can we move past this and forget about it?” She stood and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Can we start again? Please?” She leaned on tiptoe and kissed his mouth. He did not reciprocate.
“Pendleton knows about your father,” he paused, “and Lily.”
“What?” Her hands slid from his shoulders and she stepped back. “How would he know?” She’d wanted to protect Lily from people like Connor who would never understand or appreciate her.
“I told him.” His gaze challenged her. “He won’t be coming after you, and do you know why?”
He wanted her to ask; she could tell from the way he’d pushed the question out of his mouth. Fine, she’d ask. “Why?”
“Because he was more interested in which side of the family carried that extra chromosome.”
Of course, Connor would be concerned with genes. “I don’t care about him. I care about us, what we share. Our future.” Our baby.
“Our future? You wouldn’t believe me when I told you I’d been set up, but you believed that stuffed suit with the smile?”
“No! I’d already decided I was going to come to you and I planned to do it after work today. I knew I had to trust you; it was the only way we were going to work.” She ran a hand along his jaw. “And I very much want us to work.”
He clasped her hand, eased it from his face. “Will more people be coming from your past to infest our town with their superiority and judgment?”
His words pinched her bruised heart. “What does that mean?”
“Your people don’t fight fair, Christine.” He moved away from the desk and paced the room. “They hire investigators, set people up, ruin reputations,” he paused, “and marriages. And they don’t give a damn as long as they get the results they want. They don’t care who they hurt or how much money it costs. People and money are expendable, the people more so than the money.”
He’d fallen into the old pattern of Nate Desantro against the world. There’d been a short period of time when he’d let her into his heart and the anger and resentment over bad luck and misfortune had fallen away. Then her mother visited and with her came threats and airs of superiority. Following that, there’d been the photos of Nate and Natalie Servetti that by all indications had been spearheaded and paid for by Gloria. And now Connor, venturing into town and homing in on Lily and her genetics? No wonder Nate didn’t have much use for any of them. They were rude people who didn’t care about feelings and doing the right thing. They only cared about results and getting answers to the questions they asked, even if they weren’t the right questions. She wasn’t one of them, never had been. Not really. Surely Nate saw that. If not, she had to make him see. “I’m not like my mother. You know that.”
He shrugged as if to say, No, I don’t. “My mother always says you can’t get away from your genes. She’s got a point.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Say it; say what’s really on your mind.
He eyed her, his expression cold, not like the man who fell asleep in her arms at night. “Just that. Certain things are in your blood, and you can’t get away from them.”
“Like what? Hair color or being rich? What exactly are you talking about?”
Another shrug to imply it was of no consequence, which, of course, meant it was. “All of it.”
“Right.” He could be so unbendable, so damn stubborn, even to the point of damaging their relationship. Didn’t he see that? Didn’t he care? We’re going to have a baby, she wanted to yell at him. Our baby. She held back because she had to know where they stood before she told him something that would tie them together forever. “Are you angry that I didn’t believe you when you told me the photos I saw weren’t the truth? Even though I just admitted I planned to talk to you about it tonight and put it behind us?”
“Should I be?”
“Why are you being so ridiculous? You’ve wanted me to get past this and forgive you since I found out, and now you’re acting like you don’t care if we get back together or not. What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t like people coming into my town and making me feel like a piece of scum, unworthy to associate with you, let alone marry you.”
“Did I ever act like that? Even once?” The left side of his jaw twitched but he didn’t answer. “I’ve wanted to be with you since the first time we were together. You pushed me away then and you’re pushing me away now. I’m your wife. Don’t do this, Nate.” Her voice cracked, but she continued, “Stop, before it’s too late.” When he didn’t respond, she made one last attempt.
“You’re the one who doesn’t think you’re good enough for me, and if you keep shutting me out, I’ll start thinking you’re right.”
He stared at her, eyes bright, body tense. A stranger. “I need to think,” he said in a gruff voice. “I just need to think.” With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Christine alone, the news of their child buried deep in her heart.
***
“Mr. Harry, I’m scared. Can I sit with you?”
H
arry popped an eye open. Lizzie Servensen stared back at him, close enough to spot the bristles of his five-o’clock shadow. Her usual lightheartedness had vanished, and in its place, was fear. “What wrong, Lizzie girl?”
“I don’t like the witch. Her face is green and she’s mean.”
Harry glanced at the flat screen hanging on his living room wall. The Wicked Witch of the East cackled and threatened, darting around the screen in her black dress and pointy hat. Hmm. She kind of reminded him of Greta’s mother. “Okay, but no fidgeting like last time.”
The child grinned and lifted her arms. Harry hefted her onto his lap and plopped an arm around her. “It’s just makeup,” he murmured into her hair. “And don’t worry, she’ll get what’s coming to her soon enough.”
Lizzie snuggled against him and flung her small arm around his waist. “I’m not scared when I’m with you, Mr. Harry. You’ll keep me safe.”
“Yes, I will.” Harry stroked the child’s soft curls and glanced at Greta who sat on the leather couch with Arnold, a bowl of gourmet popcorn between them. Her smile covered him, heating his insides faster than a couple shots of scotch. Who would have thought there’d come a day when Harry Blacksworth would actually look forward to spending a Saturday night watching The Wizard of Oz with a woman and her two kids? Not him, that was for damn sure. But here he was, and here they were, and there really wasn’t any other place he’d rather be. Since that night three weeks ago, when he and Greta took their relationship to a “clothes off” level that still amazed him when he thought about it, Harry had been more relaxed, maybe calm was the word.
It wasn’t from the sex, though that was a mind blower on its own. He guessed it was the feeling of belonging somewhere that mattered. Arnold and Lizzie—he’d started calling her that the day after the zoo trip, to her delight and her grandmother’s disgust—enjoyed spending time with him and loved playing with the gadgets in his house. The first day they’d visited his condo, Lizzie pushed the button to open and close the blinds at least fifty-two times, and Arnold fiddled with the sound system, checking to make sure music did indeed filter through every room, including the bathrooms. He’d taught the boy to play chess and poker, the first to impress the mothers of his future girlfriends, the second, because poker taught life lessons. Knowing when to fold meant having the brains to realize when it was time to get out. A poker face could save you from all imagined and unimagined situations.
