At Any Price

by Theresa Leigh

  "How?" I swallowed and leaned back. "How did it start? With you and your guys, I mean."

  She laughed and did some reddening of her own. "Um, well Jackson caught me trying to illegally dump trash in the dumpster over there."

  I laughed. "Love at first sight, huh?"

  "Actually I thought he was an asshole."

  "He is," I nodded. "Sorry."

  "Oh don't be. He's Mr. Personality. Mr. Bad Personality." But she kicked her legs out in a way that showed just how much she loved that about him. "Why, do you believe in love at first sight?"

  "No," I said immediately, chomping down on the flaky croissant and catching the crumbs in my hand. "I'm honestly not even sure I believe in love."

  Bee cocked her head to the side. "Not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that."

  "Doesn't love mean making sacrifices?"

  "It can," she hedged.

  "And doesn't love mean you stay together no matter what?"

  Bee leaned forward. "Is there something you need to talk about?"

  "No," I said firmly. "I'm not in love. I barely fucking know him."

  She grinned. "Right," she said, running her tongue along the inside of her cheek.

  "What?"

  "Nothing." She wrinkled her nose in that adorable way she had. "And if he walked in that door right now, you wouldn't jump his bones?"

  I looked at the door a little too eagerly and she laughed. "No," I declared with a lift of my chin. "I'd throw something at him for leaving." And then I looked down and traced my finger around the rim of my coffee cup. "I really fucking wish he could have stayed."

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jameson

  Another night of sleeping like shit. I rolled out of bed, having barely slept and walked over to look out the window of the penthouse.

  Across the water of Boston's Inner Harbor, I could see the steeple of the North Church glowing white against the still dark sky. I stretched and that's when I remembered that something had woken me from my fitful sleep. I stood frozen, waiting for it to come back to me, but the only sound was the soft shushing of the air conditioning.

  Confused, I walked over and checked my phone. No text messages. A shitload of emails, of course, most of them from Miles with urgent all-caps subject lines like, "TODAY'S MEETING AGENDA" and "BEFORE YOU FREAK OUT, READ THIS." But nothing that would have made me snap out of sleep.

  But there it was again. That twisting sensation of wrongness in my gut. Over the years I'd learned to trust it. It had gotten me out of more scrapes than I could count. That gut feeling of something's wrong. Run.

  Thing was, I couldn't figure out what that something was.

  Slightly panicked now, I scrolled over and checked my missed calls. There was nothing there that would explain this roiling sickness in my belly.

  "Fucking hell," I swore and grabbed yesterday's suit pants from off the back of the chair. "The hell is going on?"

  It was still early, so I should have just ordered room service, but the strange feeling was making me too antsy to sit in my room alone and wait for the day to start. I strode over to the elevator as I was yanking my shirt on, determined to check in with the concierge in person and see if I could read from her face what it was that was so wrong.

  The elevator was express down to the ninth floor, where it dinged to a stop to let a bleary-eyed couple and their very fat baby on. "Mornin'" the father yawned. "Wait, is it morning yet?"

  "Barely," I replied.

  "Kid won't sleep," he explained with another yawn. "Woke up at two and has been awake ever since. "

  "Huh," I said, with my usual disinterest. Then a thought occurred to me. "Maybe he's hungry."

  "He ate a big dinner," his mother said.

  "You should try some cheese," I heard myself saying. "When he gets up like that. The fat and protein, they'll help fill him up."

  The father's bleary eyes widened. "Have we tried that?" he asked his wife.

  She looked dumbfounded. "No, I don't think we have." She turned to me. "Hey thanks, I think that might be the first useful advice I've ever received from a stranger in an elevator."

  I chuckled. Then I puffed out my cheeks to make the baby smile. He regarded me seriously and then very deliberately turned to grab a fistful of his mother's curls.

  "Ow honey," his mother wailed. "Careful of Mama's hair."

  I chuckled under my breath. That kid was just like Malcolm.

  Malcolm.

  The twisting in my belly spun tight, making me break out in a sweat along my hairline.

  "Malcolm," I said aloud.

  "What was that?" the father asked, turning with his eyes still closed.

  "Nothing." The door dinged open and I was off and running, reaching the desk of the startled looking concierge in two seconds flat.

  "Mr. Tellar," she cried. "Is everything okay?"

  "I don't think so," I panted.

  "Can I help you in any way?"

  "Yes," I said. "I need you to get me a plane that'll put me as close as possible to Reckless Falls, New York. As fast as you can."

  The charter plane was in the air in within twenty minutes of my arrival. My accountant was going to have a coronary when he saw what this gut feeling was costing me, but there was no way I could sit there in a meeting wondering what had happened.

  And the thought of calling Charlie had my gut twisting further. I was still angry. Still spun around as Fletch said. There was too much that needed to be said and it shouldn't be said over the phone. I planned on saying all of it to her.

  Just as soon as I knew for sure that everything was okay.

  But when I turned off of the Main Street of Reckless Falls, I nearly came to a stop. Self-doubt twisted my stomach even further, What the hell was I doing? Acting like this. I have had no obligation to her, and she had no obligation to me. I had no right to be checking up on her like this, but that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach twisted like a knife, spurring me to press down on the accelerator.

  The short alleyway that led to her street was walled in on either side by brick buildings, so the corner to make the turn was almost blind. I looked both ways, carefully watching for any kid darting out in front of me, and they made the right turn.

  And the knife in my belly twisted even further.

  The front door to Charlie's house was half open and half shut, standing there open and inviting when any other time I'd come over Charlie's mother had tightly closed and locked.

  But that wasn't the most disturbing. I swung the shitty rental car I'd hired at the last possible minute into the driveway and threw open the door with my heart pounding in my ears.

  "Malcolm!" I yelled.

  The little boy was sitting in the middle of the gated yard, clad only in his diaper. His red, tear streaked face turned up at me, and he reached out with his pink arms. He looked sunburned and sweating, and my heart went to my throat.

  I leaped the fence in a single bound and rushed over to him. Sweeping him up into my arms, I pressed my hand to his forehead. He was wildly overheated, and his lips were chapped. "Shit, little man," I said desperately. "How long have you been out here?

  "Da," Malcolm said, wrapping his arms around my neck.

  The fact that he'd called me his dad barely even registered as I rushed up the stairs towards that half open door. With my heart beating frantically in my throat, I pushed open the door. "Mrs. Kendall?" I called. Shit, I didn't even know her first name. "Hello?"

  There was no answer. I rushed across the living room and into the kitchen, flinging open cupboards until I found the one with the cups and grabbed one to run under the tap.

  I offered it to Malcolm and he immediately slurped down most of it, then let out a lusty yell.

  "Where's your Grandma, buddy?" I asked, then remembered. "I need MomMom. Where is MomMom?"

  "MomMom?" he repeated, looking around frantically.

  I turned back into the living room, and for a second my eyes passed right over her.


  She looked just like a pile of dirty laundry in the corner, collapsed and slumped like a lifeless rag doll.

  "Shit," I hissed, rushing over and shaking her. "Shit," I said again, setting Malcolm down. "Hang in there, Mrs. Kendall. I'm calling for help right now."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Charlie

  "Hey, Charlie?" Gina whispered loudly. "Your cell phone is ringing."

  I pressed my lips together and looked up at her. "Cell phone?" I said innocently. "I don't bring my cell phone to work."

  She rolled her eyes. "It's cool, I won't tell Finn."

  "Finn already knows," the owner drawled from behind me. I stiffened and turned around to stare at him. He shrugged. "Your mother," he said. "I get it."

  "Thanks," I breathed.

  Gina looked perturbed. "Well, it keeps going off. The voicemail alert or something? That little thing?"

  "Thanks," I said again, reddening right up to the roots of my hair. "Sorry about that."

  "Don't let Jackson see," Finn counseled. "He's still stuck in the Stone Age. You know we have a landline at home?" He chuckled. "Who does that?"

  "My mother," I said. "She has an answering machine too. With tape in it."

  Finn laughed harder, and I felt a little better as I headed back to my locker. Maybe I didn't have to work so hard to keep up the appearance of the perfect front end manager because clearly, nobody believed my act in the first place.

  I pulled my phone down from my locker and grimaced at the screen.

  "What the fuck, Jameson?" I breathed.

  I should have blocked the number. That's what I should've done, but I couldn't bring myself to do, no matter how many times my finger hovered over that screen. Deleting his number made it so permanent, and even though I knew it was permanent, it still felt something like acknowledging a death or something.

  I hesitated, wavering in place for second. Did I want to know what he was saying? He was probably making promises, telling me to believe in chance, that luck brought us together, and that we should just follow our gut. All of his usual refrains, that made no sense in the real world. He didn't live in the real world, but I did, and there was no room for chance out here.

  I had just made my mind to put my phone back when it buzzed in my hand again and I've let out a startled yet little yelp and it dropped it to the floor.

  "Dammit, Jameson," I hissed, suddenly flooded with irritation. Stop calling. It's over."

  And then, miraculously. He did.

  The phone fell silent in my hands and for a second I felt like I had performed some kind of magic trick. But when it didn't start ringing again, I stared at it, waiting. I stared at it a little longer.

  It still didn't ring.

  "Oh," I said aloud. "Okay then." When I set it back down again my locker, it felt like some kind of connection had severed. I felt adrift as I moved back to the front end of the restaurant, like a balloon floating away from a crowd.

  Through a haze, I heard the front end phone ring and moved to go answer it, but Gina beat me.

  "Of course," Gina said smoothly into the phone, then turned and smiled at me brightly. "Jameson Tellar for you," she said, with a sly smile.

  He was calling at work now? "Tell him I'm not interested," I said crisply, quite proud of myself.

  She held the receiver closer to her ear, and her expression changed. "He says it's an emergency," she said in a lowered voice.

  I winced. "No. It's not,"

  Gina listened for a second, and her lips screwed up in concentration. "Charlie?" she whispered over the sound of the voice on the other end. "I think I hear your son?"

  I snatched the phone from her hand. I held the phone to my ear and immediately heard the distinct sound of Malcolm's wails. My blood turned to ice. "What the fuck are you doing with Malcolm?" I shouted into the receiver.

  "Charlie," Jameson said, and I'd never heard his voice so strange. "Charlie you need to come home right now. Your Mom -"

  "What the hell happened to my mom?" I said, feeling that the world was opening up. "Are you in my house? How the fuck are you here?"

  "I had a bad feeling," he said as if that was any kind of explanation for him just showing up again. Tears were falling freely down my cheeks as he spoke. "Your Mom, Charlie. She had an accident."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Jameson

  "A little dehydration," the doctor was saying. I nodded, my hands moving in repetitive circles on Malcolm's back. "Coupled with a nice little sunburn, poor kid." She winced and shook her head. "I'll write you a prescription for an aloe cream that will help a lot."

  "That's fine," I nodded. We were in a little curtained off observation area, but the curtain didn't close all the way and I could see right out to the main door. It was a fifteen-minute drive to the hospital from the waterfront. Charlie should have been here by now.

  Malcolm contentedly sucked on the ice cube from the little plastic cup that the nurse had brought him, dribbling little droplets of water across my sleeve. I bounced him once and then shifted my weight to the other hip. "How about his grandmother?" I asked anxiously, still looking over her shoulder.

  "Georgia Kendall?" The doctor flicked through her clipboard. "She's recovering nicely." Her eyes flicked up. "Thanks to you."

  I shook my head, trying to dislodge the image of Mrs. Kendall in a heap on the floor. The gash on her head was bloody and nasty looking, but the EMTs had sworn it was only superficial. "She knocked herself out when her blood pressure dropped," they explained. "It's a good thing you came by when you did."

  Everyone was congratulating me for being a hero, but I didn't give a shit about their opinions.

  I wanted to see Charlie.

  "Da!" Malcolm shouted, lurching forward in my arms. "Mama! Mama!"

  I looked up to see Charlie rushing down the hall, her hair trailing out behind her like a battle flag. I leaped to my feet, half out of excitement, half out of readiness for a fight. "Is this the mother?" the doctor asked. "And daughter?"

  "That's me," Charlie said, snatching her son from my hands and whirling in a tight circle. "Did you escape when MomMom fell down?" she cooed, smoothing his hair. "Did you come looking for Mama to help her?"

  "Da," Malcolm said, pointing at me.

  Charlie bit her lip and turned. The doctor, sensing the mood shift, stepped back. "I'll be back to check up on you in a half an hour," she said, and then turned to flee.

  Charlie stared at me with her mouth open. I stepped forward, with my arms open. "Hi," I said. My arms ached to have her in them. "I came back."

  The expression on her face never changed. Still frozen and with a look of utter shock, she turned a little. Then, taking Malcolm's little cup of ice cubes, she took one out and hurled it at me as hard as she could.

  "Ouch!" I complained, rubbing the spot where the cube bounced off my forehead. "That actually stung!"

  "Goddammit!" she said, chucking another ice cube and then another at me. I ducked, stepping to the side, trying to evade her in the small, curtained off examination area, but

  When she lifted the entire cup over her head, I held up my hand. "Why are you throwing ice cubes at me?"

  "Because!" she screamed, breathless. Her cheeks were flushed as red as anything, and the way her breasts were heaving up and down was making me forget my train of thought. "You left!"

  "I know I did," I pointed out. "But I came back. I'm here now."

  "No, you left, you were gone, and I was okay with that. I was just getting okay with that." Her face crumpled. "You can't just, you can't come back again, not after I'm already trying to be good with you leaving."

  "Hey," I said. This is not the reaction I was expecting, not at all. I stepped closer, keeping my hands raised as if I was warding off a wild beast. "Hey," I said soothingly. "It's a good thing I came back when I did, don't you think?"

  "Motherfucker," she screamed and lifted the cup again. I ducked just in time to save myself, but the cubes clattered across the floor. I heard
the sound of murmurs from the other all around us, but nobody came to my rescue, they all seem to know better than to cross Charlie when she was in a temper.

  "Why the hell are you throwing things at me?" I asked again. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

  "I am!" she yelled. "And that's the fucking problem!"

  I swallowed back my smile. Because even in her blind rage, I loved this girl more than I thought was possible. "Do you want me to take you to your mom?" I asked gently.

  She crumpled a little. "Yes," she said dejectedly. "What happened?"

  I leaned my head out and signaled to one of the nurses. "We're going to take Malcolm Kendall up to Georgia Kendall's room right now, is that okay?"

  "Sure," the nurse said. "I'll make a note that that's where you are. Do you need anything?"

  I looked around on the floor. "More ice in a cup?" I said, with a smirk at Charlie, who reddened right up to her hairline. "Lucky for me you have better aim with your car than you do with your overhand."

  She pressed her lips together and I could tell by the way her shoulders were shaking that I'd made her laugh even though she didn't want to. She wanted to hate me. She wanted to be furious that I'd shown back up again. But of course I had.

  I loved her.

  Now I just had to figure out how to tell her.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Charlie

  The sight of my mother lying in the hospital bed with her head all bandaged up made me stop short. It was only the fact that Jameson had a gentle hand on my back that kept me standing.

  "Hey Mom," I whispered.

  She blinked a little and then opened her eyes all the way. "I'm fine," she complained, immediately trying to sit back up again. "Stop looking at me like I'm dead."

  I smiled. "I'm not looking at you like you're dead," I sighed. "What the heck happened?"