No Less Than a Lifetime

by Christine Rimmer

  Back in Sausalito, Price had no tumbledown motel to distract him from the yawning chasm that seemed to have opened up in his life with Faith gone.

  By the time she left, he’d accepted the fact that he was going to miss her. He just hadn’t come to grips with how damn much.

  He was miserable.

  And he didn’t handle misery well. It made him impossible to live with.

  Justine was doing a beautiful job of filling Faith’s shoes. But Price was curt with her. Somehow, it was like a knife turning inside him to see Justine doing the things that Faith used to do. To catch a glimpse of her winding the ormolu clock in the parlor, or carrying the flower arrangements through the rooms, or bending over the menus with Balthazar.

  In the library, sometimes, when he was supposed to be working, he’d stare blindly at his Quotron and wonder why the hell he felt so completely betrayed. He was a reasonable man. He knew he had no right at all to feel the way he did. Yet knowing didn’t help.

  He took out his ridiculous, misplaced feelings of betrayal on anyone foolish enough to cross his path. Regis came to him with a new invention, and Price curtly told his father that patenting the silly thing would only be a waste of time. With great dignity, Regis informed his son that he was terribly sorry to have suggested that Price squander his precious time.

  Another day, Ariel called him on the house line and asked him to come up and tell her what he thought of her new painting.

  “Something just isn’t right about it. I want you to look at it, Price. I want you to be thoroughly ruthless and tell me what you think.”

  He barked at her that he was working and had no time for her foolishness, then hung up. The line blinked again almost immediately.

  Feeling like a heel, he picked it up. “Listen, Mother, I—”

  Ariel interrupted his apology. “Lately, Price, you have been intolerably rude to just about everyone in this house. I suggest that you get a grip on yourself. And soon.”

  Before he could think of how to reply, the line went dead.

  Part of his problem was insomnia, Price decided. He lay awake all night, thinking of Faith, and then was edgy and irritable all day. He began spending more time at his health club, working his body until sheer physical exhaustion seemed to promise he’d enjoy a good night’s sleep for once. He never did.

  Hog futures went up. Price had invested heavily, so he found himself significantly richer in the space of a day. It should have pleased him. He couldn’t have cared less.

  And then there was Parker, who seemed to be slowly emerging from the shell he’d built around himself two years before. Occasionally, now, Parker even came down and ate with the family. And Price knew his younger brother had made friends with Justine’s boy. Ariel loved to prattle on about how Eli would end up a computer genius, with all that Parker was teaching him. Ariel swore that Parker really was coming out of the blue funk he’d lived in for so long. She just knew the day would come—and soon—when Parker would sit down at the grand piano once again and beautiful music would fill the house, just as it used to in the old days. Price knew he should be incredibly grateful, to see his brother coming around at last.

  But it was hard to be grateful. All he wanted was Faith. He wanted her back in his house, where she belonged.

  And he wanted her in his bed.

  They never should have spent that night together. He realized that now. Instead of satisfying his appetite for her, it had only served to whet it. Now there were intimate memories to taunt him in the darkest hours of the night. Visions of Faith, her eyes meeting his in bewildered desire, her sable hair tangled across a white pillow. The little cries she made when he was inside her. And her eager, awkward innocence, which somehow excited him more than the practiced caresses of any other lover he’d ever known.

  Late one morning nearly three weeks after Faith had moved out, Ariel announced that she and Regis were going on a little trip.

  They were sitting at the big table in the morning room. Price was taking a break after the early hours of trading. He looked up from the financial pages. “A trip where?”

  Ariel brushed at the hair that lay over her eyes. “Oh, I think we’ll wander down the coast. To Baja, maybe. Ensen ada. Or all the way to Cabo San Lucas. Zoe is living there now.” Zoe Webb was an artist friend of Ariel’s. “Yes.” Ariel traded a look with Regis, a look that made Price suspicious. “We’ll just feel our way around, I think. Go where the mood takes us. Perhaps we’ll even board the ferry for Puerto Vallarta.”

  From his cage, Sir Winston let out a loud guffaw.

  “What is going on?” Price asked quietly.

  “Why, nothing, dear. I just wanted you to know our plans. We’ll be leaving tomorrow.” Ariel sighed. “I had hoped Parker might join us. But he says he’s not quite ready for a trip as of yet.”

  Price put down his paper. “Exactly how long a trip is this going to be?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea. Weeks, perhaps. It depends. We’ll be in touch, of course.”

  “You’re leaving for weeks, out of nowhere like this?”

  His mother sniffed. “Honestly, Price. It’s not very pleasant around here lately. My work is suffering. I need a change of scene.” She and Regis shared one of their mutually worshipful glances. “And your father has generously agreed to accompany me. I am a fortunate woman, when it comes to my mate—and I adore my younger son.” She pursed her little rosebud of a mouth, then added stiffly, “And I love you, too, Price. But lately, you are driving me up the wall.”

  “Oh, come on, Mother. I’m not that bad.”

  “Yes, you are. You don’t know. You don’t realize. If we didn’t love you so much, you wouldn’t be that difficult to dislike.”

  “I really think you’re being unfair to me.”

  “Well, of course you do. You must think that I’m the one who isn’t fair. Because otherwise you’d have to take a long look at your behavior. And since you’re a good man at heart, then you’d be forced to actually do something about your seething silences and your hair-trigger temper—and your desperate, depressing unhappiness.”

  Price knew then what she was up to. His mother was baiting him, pure and simple. Ariel wanted him to argue with her, to insist that he was neither seethingly silent nor desperately unhappy. Then she could start in on him about Faith. Which he had no intention of letting her do.

  He gave her no opening, only reached for his newspaper again. “I hope you enjoy yourselves, Mother,” he said coolly.

  “We will. You can count on it.”

  * nbsp;* nbsp;*

  Before they left Sausalito, Ariel stopped at the post office. Regis waited in the Range Rover, which she’d doubleparked, for her to carry a large express-mail envelope inside and mail it off to Cabo San Lucas. The envelope contained postcards addressed to Price, each one already dated and scrawled with some little message about what a good time they were having. Zoe had agreed to send them, one each day, starting in a week, so that Price would believe his parents had actually gone where Ariel had said they’d be.

  As Ariel started up the Range Rover, Regis cast her a doubtful look, “My angel, do you really think Price will fall for this?”

  Ariel leaned back in the seat. “I don’t know. And quite frankly, my dearest, I don’t care.”

  “Then perhaps we should have simply told Price the truth, don’t you think?”

  “No. He might have tried to stop us. And you know how he is. So distressingly determined. We probably would have given in. No, this is the best way. I want to see Faith and visit that little town she loves so much. And that is exactly what I’m going to do.” She put her hand on her husband’s knee and squeezed. “Sit back, querido, and enjoy the ride.” Behind them, someone leaned on a horn. Ariel blew her husband a kiss across the console and then put both hands on the wheel.

  Three hours later, they pulled beneath the tiny porte cochere of the Foothill Inn. Ariel switched off the engine and gazed out the windshield at the two ugly bu
ildings and the cracked parking lot. She turned to Regis, who was sitting very silent beside her. There was no need for words, really. She saw in his eyes a reflection of her own thoughts.

  Poor, dear Faith. What can she have gotten herself into here?

  But then the door to the office opened and the screen swung out. And there she was, dressed in jeans and a big red sweater, her hair coming loose from her bun, her eyes wide, her mouth just starting to smile. Ariel felt such a welling of affection for the girl that she forgot everything but how good it was to see that precious face again. Truly, Ariel realized right then, Faith Jones was the daughter she’d never had. That was why Montgomery House seemed so empty without her. When a daughter moved out, one’s house was bound to seem empty for a while.

  Faith clapped her hands and bounced over to the Range Rover, grabbing the handle of Ariel’s door and pulling it wide. “Oh, I can’t believe it.” She held out her arms, and Ariel virtually fell into them. They hugged each other good and hard, and while they were doing it, Regis got out and came around to join them.

  At last, Faith stood back. Her smile faded a little. “Does Price—?” She couldn’t quite finish.

  But she didn’t really need to finish; Ariel understood. She shook her head. “We lied. We told him we were headed for Baja.”

  “Baja? But that would take days. Does that mean you’ll stay awhile?”

  “If you’ll have us.”

  “There’s nothing I’d like more.” The light in Faith’s eyes dimmed a little. “But, um, as you can see…” She swept out a hand, in a gesture that took in the ramshackle office, the run-down box-shaped buildings and the worn-out parking lot. “The accommodations aren’t exactly what you’re used to.”

  “The accommodations will suit us just fine, I think,” Regis said. His voice, which had suddenly taken on a husky quality, sent a flicker of awareness along every one of Ariel’s nerves. Ariel felt his arm slide around her waist. He drew her close, nuzzled her ear. “Remember, mi amore, our early years, our footloose, fancy-free life?”

  Ariel shivered in delight. She remembered. In detail. Ah, how could she ever forget…?

  Regis pulled her nearer still and whispered something thoroughly scandalous in her ear. Ariel felt the familiar, delicious heat of burgeoning desire. She smiled at Faith. “We’ll need a room, dear. Right away.”

  Regis and Ariel remained in North Magdalene for a little over a week. They were introduced to a bevy of cousins and their various spouses and offspring. Of course, they met Faith’s younger sister, Evie, and Evie’s three lovely stepchildren.

  Regis played poker nightly at the Jones family’s saloon, which was whimsically known as the Hole in the Wall. And except for the nights when one Jones cousin or another asked them to dinner, they dined at the Jones family restaurant, the Mercantile Grill, which was adjacent to the Hole in the Wall. The food there was excellent. Olivia Roper, trained in France, was the chef.

  Olivia, whose father was the Lawrence Larrabee of Larrabee Brewing Company, was married to Jack Roper, who, it turned out, was Oggie’s one illegitimate son. Apparently Jack had grown up not even knowing Oggie. But then, a few years ago, by accident, Olivia herself had led Jack here, where he’d found his family at last. Oggie and Jack had been united. Jack and Olivia had married. And now they were busy living happily ever after amid the family Jack hadn’t even known he had.

  Yes, the Joneses were a delightful clan, Ariel decided. She adored every one of them. She wished Price would hurry up and realize how much he loved Faith, so that Ariel and Regis would have an excuse to spend more time in such a charming town.

  But, alas, as things stood now, they couldn’t stay forever. The accommodations were fun at first, but too primitive to be enjoyable over an extended period of time. And Faith was in trouble. Even the most casual observer could see that her little business venture was falling down around her ears.

  The third day of their visit, Ariel tried to offer a little financial help. But Faith wouldn’t hear of it.

  Thus, as each day passed, it became more obvious to Ariel that she and Regis must return home soon—if only to inform their overbearing son of exactly what Faith was suffering. Of course, the day they left, Faith took Ariel aside and asked her not to mention anything about her new life to Price, should Price learn the truth of where they’d actually been.

  Ariel kissed Faith’s soft cheek and swore she wouldn’t say a word. Mentally, as she made the vow, she kept her fingers crossed. Really, Faith should know by now that Ariel was an artist. And artists were not governed by the same rules as ordinary people.

  At home, Justine greeted them at the door with the news that Price wished to speak with them right away.

  “Does he know?” Ariel whispered. Of course, Justine had been in on the whole thing all along.

  “Yes,” Justine replied. “I think he knew the first day. He went up to your rooms and snooped around in your drawers, I believe.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Checking to see if you took your summer clothes, would be my guess.”

  “Which we didn’t.”

  “Exactly. He questioned me.”

  “You poor dear.”

  Justine grinned. “I didn’t break. He talked to Parker— and got nothing from him, either.”

  “Then how—?”

  “He managed to reach Zoe, down in Baja.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “Yes. Completely intimidated the poor woman. She told him what she knew, which wasn’t enough, since you never told Zoe where you were really going.”

  “How did you find out he spoke with Zoe?”

  “He told me. The second time he called me into the library and demanded to know where you’d disappeared to.”

  “And you still didn’t tell him?”

  Justine shook her head, but said no more. Right then, Regis cleared his throat. Ariel knew it for the warning sound it was.

  “Welcome home, Mother. Father.”

  Ariel turned. Price was standing in the wide doorway that led to the front parlor. She granted him a thoroughly insouciant smile. “Hello, dear.”

  Price didn’t smile back. “I’d like a few words with you both.”

  “Certainly.” She turned to Justine again. “Is Mary around today?” At Justine’s nod, she asked, “Would you have her bring in our things from the car?”

  “Thirsty?” Price asked as soon as his parents were seated in the parlor. “After your long drive back up the coast?”

  His mother and his father exchanged one of those telling glances they were so fond of sharing. “I’d love a Rob Roy,” Ariel said.

  Regis thought a moment. “I’ll have Cutty on the rocks.”

  “And if you have something to say to us,” Ariel advised in her best lady-of-the-manor tone, “then come out with it.”

  Price took his time mixing the drinks. When he handed them to his parents, he asked quite calmly, “Where have you really been for the last week?”

  Ariel sipped her drink. “Heavenly,” she declared. Then she added, without a trace of remorse, “We’ve been to North Magdalene, for a visit with Faith.”

  Just hearing that name scraped his nerve endings raw, but Price had his pride. He masked what he felt beneath a carefully reasonable tone. “Why did you lie about it?”

  Ariel took another dainty sip of her Rob Roy. Then she sighed. “Price. Who can say how you’ll react lately? I wouldn’t have put it past you to try to stop us, if we had told you what we planned.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Well.” Ariel brushed her hair away with one hand and waved her drink with the other. “It’s all water over the dam now. We’ve been and returned and you have found us out.” She feigned an apologetic expression. “We are sorry to have deceived you. Truly. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive us.”

  “Yes,” Regis said. “Let’s forgive and forget. All right, son?”

  Price looked from one to the other of them. N
ow that they were here and he could pump them for the information he wanted, the fact that they’d deceived him seemed to lose its significance. They were eccentric, but they were also adults. Where they went was their business.

  “Price, please?” Ariel begged prettily.

  Price shrugged. “All right.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear.”

  “Don’t overplay it, Mother.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Just tell me how she is.”

  “You mean—?”

  “You know very well who I mean. How is she?”

  Another speaking glance passed between his father and his mother. Then Ariel announced, in the gushy tones she usually reserved for art openings, “It was wonderful to see her.”

  “That tells me nothing.”

  Ariel turned to Regis. “It’s too bad, isn’t it, how exhausted she is?”

  Regis nodded. “Those deep circles under her eyes. So worrying.”

  Ariel looked at Price. “And, of course, she wouldn’t mention a thing about her problems to us. But that motel is a disaster. There’s no other word for it. Run-down, with bad plumbing. And leaky.”

  “Leaky?”

  “Yes. The roof leaks. In several places. A few of the rooms have watermarks, like giant Rorschach tests, on the ceilings. It’s a bit eerie, actually. To lie in one of the horrible lumpy beds and watch the stain spreading, taking on new and terrifying dimensions.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  Ariel fiddled with her hair some more. “Maybe. We all know I’ve never been prone to understatement.” She set her glass on a marble-topped side table. “And Faith does have some wonderful restoration plans. Eventually, she wants to add more units on the acreage behind the existing buildings.”

  “She told me that.”

  Ariel did some more sighing. “Too bad she’s so stubborn.”