“If you’re referring to Connor and me, forget it,” Heather said. “I will not discuss that with you.”
Megan’s face fell. “What’s happened now?”
“Absolutely nothing, really. He’s in his dark world and determined to stay there. I refuse to join him. Why keep fighting it? Now, let’s move on. Tell me everything about Paris. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Then you can join us tomorrow night to look at the hundreds of pictures Mick took. Or you can say no, and I’ll bring the pictures in here when you won’t have to listen to his travelogue.”
“Oh, no. I want the full commentary,” Heather said. “What time?”
Megan hesitated. “Connor said he couldn’t make it till six or so. Is seven okay?”
Heather’s enthusiasm died at the unexpected mention of Connor. “Maybe I will look at the pictures here, after all.”
Megan didn’t even attempt to hide her disappointment. “Sweetie, you can’t avoid him forever.”
“It’s hardly forever. He was here less than two weeks ago.”
Megan looked surprised. “While we were gone? That’s great.”
“Not really.” She touched Megan’s hand. “It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting to see the pictures. Then you’ll have another chance to talk about the trip. I don’t want to spoil the evening.”
“You could hardly do that,” Megan said. “I swear that son of mine needs to have his head examined.”
Heather laughed. “Don’t mention that to him. I suggested the same thing, and he didn’t take it well.”
Megan stared at her. “Seriously? You told him to see a shrink?”
“I thought maybe somebody objective could help him sort through his issues,” Heather responded with a shrug. “Suffice it to say, he didn’t like the idea.”
“No, I imagine he didn’t,” Megan said. “You see, years ago I had the bright idea that perhaps the children should all go to counseling to deal with the divorce. Mick ranted and raved that I was the crazy one and that his children didn’t need a psychologist to tell them anything. It was quite a tirade. I’m quite sure the kids all overheard this because Abby mentioned it to me years later. Connor might have gotten the idea from his father that seeing a shrink is a weakness. You’d think he’d have outgrown that view, especially with Will as a friend, but sometimes the wrong lessons stick.”
Heather shook her head. “Which is all the more reason why he needs to see one.”
Megan smiled. “You could have a point, at that. Perhaps I will push the idea myself, after all. He’s always annoyed with me, so what do I have to lose?”
Impulsively, Heather hugged Megan. “I am so glad you’re home.”
“Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too.”
Connor thrived on work, and in his drive to make partner, he’d been taking on more and more cases. Lately, when he didn’t want to think about Heather and the mess that was their relationship, work had been his solace, a crammed calendar a boon.
Today, though, for some reason he was barely able to contain himself as yet another client outlined his wife’s flaws and his own justifications for wanting out of the marriage. That’s what they were, too—self-righteous justifications for breaking their wedding vows. It was the first time Connor had looked at them that way, which meant Heather was in his head again.
He looked at the man seated opposite him, the CEO of a local company who’d found excuse after excuse for the affairs he’d been having. Now that his wife had filed for divorce and was seeking a huge settlement, he wanted to blame all of his bad choices on her.
Normally Connor would have focused solely on the man’s complaints about his wife, but as with Clint Wilder, all of a sudden he wondered about her side of the story. Had anything she’d done—or not done—really justified the man cheating on her repeatedly?
“So, you can get me out of this without me losing everything, right?” Paul Lacey asked. “Everyone says you’re the best at making sure we guys don’t get taken for a ride by our ex-wives.”
“How many kids do you have?”
“Three.”
“How old?”
“Six, ten and twelve,” he said.
“Spend much time with them?”
The man squirmed a bit. “As much as I can, given the kind of schedule I have to keep at work.”
“What are you thinking about custody?”
Lacey looked surprisingly thrown by the question. “Visitation, I guess,” he said, sounding disinterested.
Connor was taken aback. “Not even joint custody?”
“Like I said, I don’t have a lot of spare time,” Lacey replied defensively.
Right then, Connor decided he didn’t like his client. What kind of father could be so dismissive about being part of his children’s lives? No matter what happened between him and Heather, he would always want to play a huge role in little Mick’s life. So far they’d been able to work out a fair schedule, so he hadn’t seen a need to legalize his rights, but if it came to that, he’d insist on joint custody.
“Okay, here’s how I see it, Paul,” he began. “You’re going to abdicate the major responsibility for raising your children to your wife. She’s going to ask for a substantial amount in child support, and the court will approve it. Given the facts of the situation, which you’ve admitted to me and of which she’s apparently well aware, she’s likely to get more alimony than you want to pay. Before this goes any further, why don’t you take a step back, go home and try to work things out? It’s the only way you’re going to come out of this a winner.”
It was the first time in his career that Connor had made such a recommendation wholeheartedly. In the past, he’d made the suggestion, then quickly dropped it when his client demurred. Usually he was all too eager to rush into court or mediation and fight for his client’s financial rights.
Paul Lacey looked thrown by his advice. “I came here so you could represent me in my divorce and you’re advocating that we reconcile? What kind of lawyer are you?”
“An honest one. I can take your case and promise to do my best, but you’re going to come out a loser if what matters to you is preserving your bank account. If you ever cared about your wife and family, maybe you should take another stab at remembering why. That’s all I’m saying. If things don’t work out, divorce will still be an option.”
Even as the words came out of his mouth, Connor was surprised by them. What? Was he channeling Heather all of a sudden? It was disconcerting, to say the least.
Lacey stood up. “I’ll think about it. If I call you on Monday and tell you to proceed, you’ll handle it, right?”
“Sure,” Connor said, though without much enthusiasm.
As soon as Paul Lacey had left, Connor grabbed his briefcase full of case files and headed for the door.
“Marjorie, I’m done for the weekend. If you need me, call my cell.”
“But you have a four o’clock appointment,” she protested. “And I thought you’d scheduled several meetings for tomorrow, too. What should I do about those?”
“Call and reschedule. I need to get down to Chesapeake Shores.” He should have canceled the appointments the minute his mother had called about the honeymoon travelogue she had on tap for tomorrow night, but at the time he hadn’t been overjoyed by the prospect of an evening of cheesy family photos.
Worry immediately creased Marjorie’s brow at his response. “A family emergency?”
“In a way, but nothing for you to worry about.”
He just wanted to see Heather and his son. After a couple of weeks of dealing with nonstop ugliness, he needed to be reminded that innocence still existed. Seeing little Mick would accomplish that.
As for seeing Heather, despite how he fought her, even he was starting to appreciate the way she clung to all that was good and hopeful in the world. After the past couple of weeks, he needed that balance even more than he’d realized. And maybe he needed some time to think about why that was.
Heather had finally allowed herself to be persuaded to join the family for dinner. She pulled into the winding driveway at the house just behind Connor. He came over to help her with little Mick.
“Just getting here?” she asked.
“Actually, I came down last night,” he said as he tickled his son and set off delighted giggles.
She regarded him with surprise. “I thought you were jammed up at work.”
“I was, but I had Marjorie reschedule a few things. I needed to get down here for some peace and quiet and a fix of my guy here.”
“Really? That’s new.”
“Never let it be said I can’t learn an occasional new trick.” He met her gaze. “I’m glad you’re here. Mom said she was inviting you, but I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”
“Your mom was so excited about the trip, how could I say no?”
“And you knew I’d be here?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yes, Connor. I knew.”
“And you came anyway,” he said with exaggerated shock.
“I weighed the wisdom of staying away against the delight of hearing absolutely everything about Paris. Paris won.”
“I just hope they leave out the details about the honeymoon itself,” Connor said with an exaggerated shudder.
She laughed. “I don’t imagine they’d want to share those, so I think your delicate ears are safe.” She studied his face, then sobered. “What’s going on, Connor? Have you had a bad day at the office?”
“One too many cheating husbands who expect me to save their hides, if you must know.”
She actually stopped in her tracks. “Did you just sound as disillusioned by your clients as I think you did?”
He shrugged. “Probably. I’m sure it’s just two weeks of back-to-back consultations with new clients, who mostly have the same old story.” He held her gaze. “And maybe one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You whispering in my ear that they’re whiny jerks,” he admitted.
“I have never once called your clients whiny jerks,” she protested, though she couldn’t help smiling. “Even if that is what some of them are.”
“All of them,” he conceded with shocking candor. He looked at her with bemusement. “Why couldn’t I see that before?”
“Because you thought you were put into the legal world to defend the rights of all men who’d been mistreated by conniving women. You saw them through the prism of your own experience or, to be more precise, your dad’s.”
“Maybe,” he said, which amounted to a huge concession coming from him. “All I know is that for two weeks now, I’ve sat there listening and taking notes, all the while wondering why any woman would want to stay married to these men.” He met her gaze. “I think you’ve ruined my career.”
“Not that I necessarily think that would be a bad thing,” she said at once, “but I doubt it’s true. There are plenty of men who deserve to have someone like you fighting for them in court. Maybe you just need to be more discriminating about the cases you take.”
“I’m trying to make partner. The heavier my caseload, the better my chances.”
She halted him by putting a hand on his arm. “Is it worth it?” she asked. “I know making partner is like the Holy Grail or something, but what if you lose your soul in the process?”
Now Connor laughed. “Despite your low opinion of what I do, I’m not selling my soul to the devil.”
“If you say so,” she said, not entirely convinced.
“Seriously, Heather, I’ll be fine. I just had a rough couple of weeks. Seeing you and little Mick is just what I needed. You’ll ground me again.”
She wanted to believe she provided some kind of balance to his life, but she was one person, little Mick only a baby. They couldn’t be responsible for saving him from the gloomy aspects of the kind of law he’d chosen to practice. Only he could do that.
But from what she’d heard him say tonight, perhaps he was actually starting to do that.
12
After rushing to get to Chesapeake Shores on Friday, Connor had deliberately made himself wait until Saturday evening to see Heather. He’d needed the time to think. Discovering that he was suddenly disenchanted with some aspects of his career had come as a shock to him. He suspected it would pass once he’d had a weekend filled with watching his parents make fools of themselves under the guise of having fallen in love all over again.
To his surprise, though, they actually seemed to be genuinely happy. He couldn’t deny the glow on his mother’s face or the light in his father’s eyes every time he caught a glimpse of Megan. And their teasing banter as they showed the stacks of photos they’d taken in Paris, tripping over each other’s words as they shared their honeymoon memories, was a revelation to him. He couldn’t recall a single time from his childhood when there had been so much rapport between his parents or so much laughter in their house.
There had to have been, of course. People didn’t stay married for nearly twenty years before divorcing without at least some joy to keep them hanging in for so long. Had Connor been too young when there’d been laughter, instead of tension, or had he blocked it out in his zeal to blame his mother for tearing the family apart?
He’d certainly managed to turn a blind eye to every single good time he and his mother had spent together. He grudgingly admitted that her recent gentle nudging had stirred a few of those happier memories. He’d have to ask Abby or Kevin, who were older, about the laughter one of these days. Of course, to ask would be to risk having the rest of his bitter memories of the past shattered.
As he sat off to one side, in place for the honeymoon reminiscing but not quite part of it, Carrie came over and snuggled up beside him.
“Hey, short stuff, what’s up with you?” he asked, studying his niece’s pensive expression.
“Caitlyn and me have been thinking,” she told him solemnly.
It was practically a given that those two thought in unison, Connor thought, restraining a smile. “Is that so? About what?”
“We really, really liked being in Mommy’s wedding to Trace. And we liked wearing the pretty red velvet dresses for Grandma Megan’s wedding to Grandpa Mick.”
“And you looked beautiful,” he assured her, having no idea where she was heading with this. But all women, even at nine, loved being told they were pretty. Of that he was sure.
She beamed at him. “You thought so?”
“Of course.”
She gave him a wistful look. “We’d like to do it again,” she said.
Connor was lost. “What? Wear pretty dresses? I’m sure you have a whole closet full of dresses that you can wear anytime. I know how much your mom and your grandmother like taking you shopping. And if you want to go someplace where you can dress up, maybe your mom will bring you and your sister up to Baltimore, and I’ll take you out someplace fancy for lunch. Or we can go to one of the hotels for afternoon tea. You can pretend you’re princesses.”
She shook her head fiercely. “No, silly. We don’t want to wear just any dresses. We like the kind for weddings.” She gave him a sly look. “Lunch would be good, too, or even tea, but weddings are the best.”
He stared at her blankly. “Why tell me?”
“Because we heard Mommy talking, and she says you and Heather should get married. So we think when you do, we ought to be in the wedding.” She regarded him hopefully. “What do you think? Will you ask Heather if it’s okay?”
“I think your mommy talks too much,” he said, scowling at his big sister across the room. Abby managed to pull off a totally innocent expression, as if she weren’t perfectly aware that Carrie had just put him on the hot seat.
Caitlyn suddenly appeared and snuggled close on his other side. She regarded her sister eagerly. “Did he say yes?”
“No,” Carrie said sorrowfully. “Not yet, anyway.”
Caitlyn stared up at him. “How come? We did a good job in Grandma Megan’s wedding to Grandpa Mick. Everybody said so.”<
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“You did a fabulous job,” he agreed. “But I’m not planning to get married.”
Both girls blinked at him, their expressions shocked. “Not ever?”
“Not ever,” he confirmed.
“But you and Heather have a baby,” Carrie said, puzzlement written all over her face. “Aren’t you supposed to be married to have a baby?”
“That’s certainly the way it should be,” Abby said, joining them. “Right, brother dear?” The look in her eyes dared him to say otherwise to her impressionable nine-year-old girls.
Connor was so far out of his depths he wanted to bolt, but how could he with his nieces staring at him with such earnest expressions?
“Your mother is absolutely right that people should wait until they’re married to have children,” he said eventually, then regarded Abby with a touch of defiance, “or at least until they’re old enough to understand the responsibilities that come with being parents.”
“But you have a baby and you’re not married, so isn’t the baby illegal?” Caitlyn asked worriedly. “That’s what someone at school said.”
“It was that dumb Tommy Winston,” Carrie added. “He called Jimmy Laughlin illegal, ’cause he doesn’t have a dad. You don’t want Mick to be illegal, do you?”
“Not illegal, illegitimate,” Abby corrected, her gaze commanding Connor to talk his way out of this.
Connor drew in a deep breath. “What’s important is that your cousin has a mommy and a daddy who both love him more than anything in the whole wide world,” he told them, hoping that would put an end to it. He should have known better. These were the girls who’d asked why so incessantly it had nearly driven everyone in the family berserk.
“But if you don’t live together and be a family, how’s he supposed to know that?” Again it was Caitlyn, the little worrier, who asked.
“You don’t live with your dad, but you know he loves you, right?” Connor explained.
“I guess,” she said after several seconds of thoughtful deliberation.
Connor scrambled to reassure her. “And you know that all of us, your aunts and uncles and your grandparents, we love you, but we don’t live in the same house with you.”
Driftwood Cottage Page 15
