by CL Rowell
“I remember they gouged us, charging us for a new mattress and a hazardous cleanup fee.”
“Your son now needs a new mattress, as well.”
“Oh, so now he’s my son?”
“Like father like son.” She shrugged.
“Leave it to him to get one like his momma.” He blew her a kiss. Sobering quickly, he heaved a heavy sigh. “I brought shame on our whole family, Vera.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did! I spent—”
“We aren’t poor, Frank.”
“We aren’t?” He perked up.
Chapter Nineteen
Geoff
∞∞∞
“We aren’t,” my mother confirmed, smirking proudly at his bemusement and shock.
“But…how—”
“Give me a little credit, husband. I was no naive bride by the time Momma passed away. I’m perfectly aware that I married an idealist and I prepared for it.”
“How?” Hope filled his eyes.
“By stashing some money back in a rainy-day fund.”
His face fell again. “A rainy-day fund isn’t gonna help much. I’ll go back to work after the docs give me the okay—we’ll make it through this.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Don’t tell me I won’t, woman. I failed you once, but I’ll be damned if I do it again.”
“I am telling you that you won’t, and if you’d listen for one second—”
“But—”
She raised her voice for the first time in my life, talking over him, “You only knew about the third I let the lawyer mention, Frank. I asked him not to talk about the rest.”
“Third?” He shook his head, “She left us three hundred mil—and I blew it on pipe dreams. There is no more. If you’re accepting money from your father just admit it. I can handle the truth.”
Mom shook her head and even I could tell she was starting to get annoyed. “Do you really believe Momma would leave me so little and leave Geoff so much?”
Dad shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“She left me just as much as she left him.”
He gaped at her for several long minutes before finally finding his voice and demanding, “Then where is it?”
“You blew a third of it—”
“Ain’t gonna ever let me live it down, are you?” he groused.
She grinned, “Probably not. Can I finish, now?”
“I don’t know…can you?”
“That depends on if you’re capable of shutting your trap, old man.”
I saw a nurse heading our way and cautioned, “Mother, stop teasing him. You’re going to cause him to blow a fuse. He just had major surgery—remember? You don’t want them to throw us out, do you?”
“I’d like to see them try.” Fire and brimstone smoldered in her eyes for a second. Shaking it off, she sighed. “Fine. I put a third into a money market account, and I started a charity foundation with the last of it.”
Juliet’s head jerked up so fast and hard she nearly gave me whiplash. “You’re the head of Blanx Artz—they paid a huge chunk of my tuition, allowing me to attend college without worrying about drowning in debt.”
She nodded, pride shining from her eyes, practically glowing, “That’s part of it. If a legitimate need can be shown, we help. We give out scholarships to deserving high school seniors and college students who qualify for federal grants and keep their GPAs high, but that’s just a small part of it. We also start up after school programs and youth centers in impoverished areas to discourage at-risk kids from getting into drugs and gangs, keeping them out of the legal system. We build medical clinics and libraries all over the world in places that need them and offer legal representation and women’s shelters to abused women and families…”
Dad sat there staring at her, flabbergasted, “So that was you—the children’s golf thing at the country club?”
“It was.”
“I knew it had to be—the name was too much of a coincidence…but, when I asked—”
She shrugged, “I know. I denied it—said it must have been serendipity. I didn’t want us to argue in front of a crowd of people chock-full of journalists for well-known news organizations at a time when I was doing so much good in the world.” She shook her head, keeping her gaze on his, “If I’d told you what I was doing and you’d tried to discourage me…it could have ended our marriage, and I couldn’t risk it. I felt I couldn’t tell you the truth so I…I lied and said it wasn’t me.”
“Did you really think I was that selfish?” I winced, waiting for her response—and the explosion I was sure would follow—but before she could say a word, he answered his own question, “You don’t have to say anything. I already know the answer—I was a real bastard, wasn’t I? Why did you stay all these years?”
“Because I love you, coullion.”
He dabbed at the corners of his eyes, “You haven’t called me that in years—not since we were dating.”
“Maybe I should have kept doing it,” she laughed. “There have been times…”
“I know.” He reached for her hand and the look in his eyes made me feel like I was intruding. “I love you, too—and I will do better. In fact…this time around, you control the purse strings.”
“Frank—”
“No, you’ve done a much better job than I have. I won’t risk messing it up again.” He kissed her hand and turned back to me and Juliet, “And, as for you two, I could not be prouder. I always hoped you’d end up together.” He beamed at her, “Welcome to the family, Juliet. Now, when’s the wedding?”
I felt her tense against my arm and hurried to respond before they could notice and start asking awkward questions, “We were thinking about the weekend before Christmas. We’ll be out of school for the holidays—”
“And everyone will be away, traveling to see their families,” Mom interrupted.
“Not the ones that matter the most,” Juliet stood straighter, supporting me. “We don’t need a big extravaganza. Friends and family sounds perfect to me.”
I nodded, “Me, too.”
“I don’t know—Frank?”
“Well, he turns twenty-five on the twenty-third…” he reminded her.
“I know when his birthday is. He is my son, too—” her head tilted to the side and her brow furrowed, “but what does that have to do with anything?”
He paled—noticeably—and beads of sweat dotted his brow and upper lip. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized—Dad doesn’t know Mom already knows about the stipulations of the will.
“Uhh…” His eyelids fluttered and he licked his lips, swallowing hard. “Umm, well, you see…”
The electronic display on his heart monitor drew all of our attention as his heart rate shot up.
Mom panicked. “Frank?”
“What is going on in here?” A tall heavyset nurse barreled into the room brandishing a syringe in one hand and my father’s medical chart in the other. She had a massive beehive hairdo that brushed the top of the door frame as she entered and arms like a linebacker. “Who is upsetting my patient?”
He waved her off, trying to play it off, “I’m fine.”
She wasn’t buying it. “Really? Then why is your heart monitor going crazy?”
“That was my doing.” He scowled at her. “I screwed up.”
“Why am I not surprised? You need to stop doing things that will upset you, Mr. Blanxart. All this stress isn’t good for your heart. Did you forget you just had major heart surgery?”
“I didn’t forget. How could I? I have the incisions to remind me.” He eyeballed her as she uncapped the syringe. “What’s that?”
Dad doesn’t like needles. He doesn’t like being teased about it either, so I covered my lips with my hand, knowing better than to get caught smiling at that moment.
“A little something to help you relax.”
“Will it put me out?” His eyes rolled in his head and the monitor went crazy again.
/>
“It might.”
“Then hang on a goshdurned minute and let me finish what I was going to say.”
She shoved the tip of the needle into a spot low on his IV line and fed the clear liquid into the fluid stream of the IV tubing with a smile. “Talk fast.”
If looks could kill, she’d be dead on the floor. Luckily, he decided to be prudent. Turning to my mother, he stated, “Vera, you aren’t the only one who played things a little underhanded—” My eyebrows rose over his wording, but I bit my tongue and shook my head at Juliet. He continued, “Your father and I convinced his and your mother’s lawyer to keep mum on part of the stipulations in her will—”
She narrowed her eyes, playing dumb, “Which part?”
“The part where he has to be married before he’s twenty-five or have his inheritance postponed for five more years.”
“I see.” She got to her feet and glanced over at me and Juliet. “Let’s go, kids.”
“Go?” I waited, sure that there was more.
“Apparently we have a wedding to plan and less than a month to pull it off thanks to your father.”
“Vera—” he held out his hand to her, the one without an IV in it. His eyes were huge, and his expression reminded me of a scolded puppy who’d piddled on the floor and knew he was in trouble. “You can’t just leave me here…”
Chapter Twenty
Juliet
∞∞∞
My heart wrenched when he said those words and gave her that look. If Geoff ever looked at me like that I’d rush to his side and promise him the world. She stood strong, though.
“You need to concentrate on getting better so you can go to church and get right with the Lord,” she informed him. “Because right now, if you were to walk through those hallowed doors, the whole place would fall to the ground.”
“Mom—” Geoff cocked his head and lifted a sardonic brow in that annoying way he has that I still can’t duplicate, “isn’t there something else you wanted to say to Dad before we go?”
“Not if you want me to pay for your wedding.”
“Really? That’s how it’s gonna be?” He shrugged and scrunched up his face, refusing to let her blackmail him. “Nah, I’m good.” And he turned to face his dad.
“Geoff…”
He ignored the warning in her voice, leaned in close and whispered something into the older man’s ear.
“He’s probably asleep, hon.” The nurse grabbed his chart and made a notation in it, preparing to go. “That stuff works pretty fast. It’s doubtful he’ll remember what you said when he wakes up.”
“He’s just playing possum. He isn’t asleep yet.” Vera snorted and turned toward the door. I glanced down at him before following her and saw a tiny smile flit across his face and I knew she was right.
After her words to Geoff I fully expected for her to tell us she’d see us later and take off. I should have known better, though. As we trailed behind her, he squeezed my hand. I glanced up at him.
“You want to go back to my place, or should I drop you off at your room?”
She stopped in her tracks and let us catch up. “Didn’t you hear what I said about the short amount of time we have to prepare for this wedding? Every minute counts. Follow me to the house so we can get started.”
“You also said you weren’t paying for it,” Geoff reminded her with what I considered a very unwise smirk on his face.
“I could be paying for a funeral instead if you’re not behind me when I pull into that drive…choose your next words with care.”
“Fine, we’ll be behind you, grumpmeister—” He rolled his eyes. “How far behind you will totally depend on how closely you try to adhere to the speed of light, but we will be behind you…somewhere…”
She shook a finger at him, “You’re cruising, kiddo. Don’t be giving that poor girl the wrong impression of me. You’ll scare her.”
“Wrong impression? Ha! You seem to forget how often she used to climb into the backseat with me, back in high school. She already knows how you drive.”
In all honesty, it was true. I did—I just wasn’t crazy enough to say it out loud the way he did. The woman drove like she thought she was in her own personal Indy 500 race—Indy 500 2.0 Street Racing in the City—weaving in and out of traffic, taking stop signs and yield signs as mere suggestions, and exceeding the speed limit by enough to give me heart palpitations in-between lights. Still, I elbowed him, because she is his mom. “Be nice!”
“Him? Be nice? Ha!” She dug out her keychain and pushed the button to deactivate the alarm and unlock the doors on her S90. “Such an ungrateful boy.”
“We’ll see you at the house, Mom,” he kissed her cheek and waited for her to get in and lock the doors before we headed for the Mustang. Once we arrived and he unlocked and opened the passenger door for me, he offered, “We don’t actually have to go if you don’t want to.”
“You have a death wish, don’t you?”
“What?” He grinned and shut the door. When he dropped into the low-slung seat behind the steering wheel and twisted the key in the ignition, he persisted, “Don’t tell me you want a big fancy wedding complete with the sweeping white gown, a guest list that includes several movers and shakers from Forbes’ list of America’s richest people, and a footnote on the evening news of a handful of national television stations?”
“You know I don’t, but I do want to let her have a say. Her only child is getting married.” I bit my lip and cut my eyes in his direction. “She wouldn’t really do all that, would she?”
“You tell me. You’ve known her for nine, almost ten, years—hell, since our first year of high school. Would she?”
“Maybe if I tell her I meant it when I said I just wanted family and close friends?” I cradled my head in my hands, skirting the edges of a panic attack at the very thought of what he described, “I don’t want to have a huge society wedding only to turn around six months later and file for divorce. That would be humiliating.” Sitting up in my seat, I sighed and straightened my shoulders, “We’ll just have to present a strong united front and refuse to cave.”
A horn caught our attention and we both glanced up. It was his mother’s silver Volvo, idling and blocking through traffic in the busy parking lot without a single qualm. She rolled her window down and waited for him to do the same.
He stuck his head out his window, “You haven’t left yet?”
“No, I was waiting on you. Go ahead—I’ll follow the two of you back to the house.”
He rolled his window back up and pulled out in front of her, watching as she tailed him to the exit. “I guess we have no choice in the matter. She isn’t letting up.”
The short trip to his parents’ place felt even shorter since I knew what we’d be discussing. I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d be able to play the part of the convincingly in love couple. Or, I amended mentally, if he would be able to play his part. I’d just let my feelings for him shine through for her to see and let him think I was just a kickass actress.
Chapter Twenty-One
Geoff
∞∞∞
I don’t want to have a huge society wedding only to turn around six months later and file for divorce. Her words pierced my heart like a sword. We weren’t even married, and she was already looking at the messy ending. Who says we have to get a divorce was on the tip of my tongue but I lost my nerve before I could say it. If what happened in my condo didn’t sway her even a little who’s to say my words would have any effect? They might even scare her off. I bit my tongue and we made the short trip in silence except for the radio playing in the background.
When we arrived at the house, I pulled up in front of the door, making sure to leave plenty of room for my mother to access the garage. I unfastened my seatbelt, pocketed the keys, and turned to face her. “We won’t stay long.”
Her smile appeared weak in her wan features. She lifted a shoulder in a tiny shrug. “It’s okay, Geoff. I’m okay. It’s just�
�the last few days have been a little stressful. I’m adjusting, though. Stop looking like you think I’m gonna run screaming at any second. I won’t let you down.”
“I didn’t think you would.” Even I could hear the hurt in my tone. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, though. You’re being a really good sport about it.”
“You’d do the same for me.” She opened her door. “Let’s go inside before your mom implodes. She’s been standing at the door staring at us, patiently waiting.”
“Patiently?”
She pursed her lips, but her sparkling eyes still gave away her smile. “Okay, maybe not patiently, but she has been waiting—and I don’t know about you but I’m not ready to die yet.”
“You make an excellent point.” I opened my door and followed her up the short walkway to where my mom waited for us.
Once inside, she requested coffee and coffeecake for three to be brought to the sunroom from the chef’s assistant, and grabbed her iPad Pro. She scowled when we sat across the table from her but simply turned it sideways so we could see the screen, too. She typed in the web address of a popular wedding site that had links to several other sites. Once our coffee arrived, she cleared her throat and got started.
“What type of wedding gown did you want when you were growing up?” she asked Juliet.
“I didn’t. I wanted to be a race car driving astronaut when I was little.”
I had to bite the tip of my tongue to keep from snickering at my dear mother’s expression of pure befuddlement. She bobbed her head as if she totally understood and tried again, “And now? What kind of dress do you see yourself in when you picture yourself walking down the aisle toward my son?”
“Actually, I’d prefer to wear pants. Most wedding dresses I’ve seen, in photos and when I’ve attended friends’ weddings, appear to be designed to drag the ground and I’m kinda klutzy. I worry that I’d trip and face plant in front of everyone.”
I’d just taken a large swig of coffee to wash down a stubborn bite of sticky coffeecake when she answered. It was miraculous that I didn’t choke on my surprise and spray it everywhere, but I managed. Barely. I did cough a little, but I apologized and blamed it on a stray crumb—shooting my unrepentant fiancée a glare as soon as Mom looked away. She’s about as klutzy as a prima ballerina and she knows I know it. She was just yanking Mom’s chain.
