Lover's Lane

by Jill Marie Landis

  “No. No one’s done anything.” She didn’t exactly sound real sure.

  “Who’s Annasaunder?”

  Mom got very still and didn’t answer for a minute. Then she cleared her throat. “Anna Saunders is . . . a lady who lives far away.”

  “Is she trying to hurt you or Jake?”

  She pulled him onto her lap and held him the way she liked to, as if he were still a baby. Lately he’d pretended he was too big for that, but this time he didn’t laugh and try to wriggle off. If she wanted to cuddle, that was okay with him.

  Mom spoke with her lips close to his hair. “She’s not trying to hurt us. She . . . she wants to get to know you, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  “She was your dad’s mom.”

  “My dad’s mom? My dead dad’s mom?”

  “Yes. She’s your grandmother.” Mom brushed his hair off his forehead again, and this time she kissed it.

  “I have a grandma?” He tried not to get too excited. A grandmother was supposed to bake cookies and tell you how great you were, no matter what you did. At least that’s what Matt told him. And they gave you presents, too. He nestled against Mom, still wondering why he hadn’t known about Anna Saunders before.

  “Why isn’t her name Anna Nolan like ours?”

  “Well, because your dad’s name wasn’t Nolan.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s hard to explain. Sometimes people don’t have the same last names.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “She lives in Long Beach.”

  “How come we never see her?”

  “She . . . didn’t know where we lived.”

  “Hey,” he said, suddenly remembering. “Jake lives in Long Beach, too.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “You think he’ll come back soon?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I wish he would. I miss him when he’s not here. Why don’t we call him and ask him over for dinner?”

  “He’s very busy.” Mom got very quiet and held him tight.

  “I like things just the way they are. With just the two of us. That’s enough, isn’t it? Just us?”

  “Jake’s a nice guy. Why don’t you like him?”

  Mom swallowed hard. He could feel it as he lay against her chest. Her heart was beating really fast.

  “Jake is a busy man. He had to drive back to Long Beach this afternoon. You can’t expect him to be here all the time.”

  “Why don’t we call up my grandma and tell her to come see us?”

  “She’s very busy, too.”

  “Like Jake?”

  “Maybe we should put on some sweatshirts and go for that walk on the beach. How about that?”

  “Do you think my grandma has any pictures of my dad?”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  “Maybe she’ll show them to me if I ever get to meet her.”

  It was a few minutes before Mom whispered, “I’m sure she will.”

  On the drive down the coast, Jake imagined himself sitting in the somber office of some funeral director with Jackson Montgomery’s ghost hovering beside him. The Ghost of Summers Past, laughing in his ear.

  When he walked into his condo that evening, stressed from battling the tangle of rush hour on the 405 Freeway, preoccupied with the blowup with Carly, Kat was still there.

  As he closed the door behind him, she walked out of the office with a stack of phone messages in her hand.

  “Sorry about your grandfather.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Here.” She shoved the notes at him, reached for the purse and sweater hanging on an oak coatrack near the door. “Those are all from Anna Saunders.”

  His hand tightened on the slips of paper. “Thanks.”

  Anna Saunders had been calling him since the day after he’d returned to Twilight, but he’d put off calling her back and had told Kat to try to stall her.

  “She had a tail put on me. One of Alexander and Perry’s guys, but I made him.”

  “Then what?” Suddenly she no longer appeared interested in leaving. “Did you shake him?”

  “No, I confronted him. He owed me one, so I got him to stall A and P.”

  “And you took his word for it?”

  “Yeah. And I made sure he was gone before I got on the road again. If he followed me, he somehow turned invisible.”

  “Would you have done it? Let somebody off the hook like that?”

  “In this case, yeah. I’d have done the same thing.”

  “I know everything’s not all right, but is there anything I can do?”

  “No. Thanks, but it’ll all work out.”

  “What about The Obsession?”

  He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “She’s been better, too.”

  “From the look on your face I gather you finally told her you are really Jake Montgomery, P.I.?”

  “Actually, somebody else told her before I could, at the worst possible time.”

  “Ouch. And she’s still pissed.”

  He shrugged. “How’d you guess?”

  “The look on your face says it all.”

  He was more than ready for Kat to leave. He didn’t need to have her launch into a I-thought-you-knew-better-than-to-fall-in-love lecture. He wasn’t about to explain that Carly was more than pissed, that she was scared and upset and rightly so if the Saunders had really tried to take Chris from her. What he wanted right now was to be left alone to think and talk to Anna Saunders before it was too late.

  “Hey, drive carefully.” He opened the front door for Kat.

  “I can take a hint. I won’t be in until around noon tomorrow. I’ve got to go up to the courthouse in L.A. first thing in the morning.”

  “Fine. I may or may not be here. I have an appointment with my grandfather’s lawyers.”

  He watched Kat run down the steps, admiring her trim figure. She was graceful and athletic while feminine and sexy at the same time. Any man would be lucky to have her, but she had protectively encased her heart in bulletproof Kevlar.

  He thought he had, too, but loneliness made for weak defenses, and thinking back, once he’d laid eyes on Carly, the fight against feeling had pretty much been over. He’d lowered his defenses, and now he was definitely feeling the pain.

  Kicking off his shoes, he wandered toward the kitchen. On the way, he laid the stack of memos on the wicker table, picked up the portable phone and dialed his mother to let her know he was back in town and that he’d contacted Jackson’s lawyers. They were ready to go over the old man’s last wishes in the morning.

  That done, he rummaged through the freezer until he found two bean-and-chicken burritos in a plastic sack on the back of a shelf. He pulled them out, opened one end of each wrapper, and set them on the microwave turntable.

  An old jar of salsa was hiding in the fridge, but it was a science project with a layer of green fur floating on top. He tossed it and grabbed a package of hot sauce out of a collection of leftover fast-food packets of ketchup, mayo, relish, and mustard.

  While he waited for the burritos to heat, he walked back to the table, picked up a pink phone memo, and stared at Anna’s number. He punched it into the phone.

  One short ring later he heard Anna say hello. Her voice was laced with ice.

  “This is Jake Montgomery.”

  “Oh. Jake. Yes.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t get back to you right away. I was out of the area.”

  “You know, Jake, after we spoke last, I started wondering why you didn’t jump at the chance to take the case, and that got me thinking that you might already know where Caroline was, or at least you had a strong lead and didn’t want to get my hopes up. Have you continued searching for her pro bono all these years?”

  “Rick was my friend. I wanted to make sure his son was being taken care of.”

  “When did you plan to tell me? Or were you?”

  “Why didn’t you call and ask me that instead of having someon
e from Alexander and Perry tail me?”

  There was a slight pause.

  “You know?”

  “Yeah. I saw him. He was easy enough to spot.” Suddenly it hit Jake that Sam Godes had been very easy to make. Maybe too easy. As his thoughts churned, Anna went on to explain.

  “It was Art Litton’s idea. I called to get his advice and tell him what I suspected. He suggested I contact Alexander and Perry and have you followed.”

  Jake knew Litton. A high-dollar lawyer with the scruples of a python.

  “You told me that all you ever wanted was to play a role in Christopher’s life. What’s going on, Anna?”

  There was dead silence on the other end of the line. Lights from the shopping center across the footbridge from his condo building shimmered on the water.

  He could hear her voice break when she finally answered. “I promised Charles I would find Christopher, Jake. If you had taken the case, I wouldn’t have had to have you followed. You were Rick’s friend, or claim to have been. Help me make certain his son has everything he needs.”

  Jake thought of the tug-of-war on his own emotions that his grandfather had put him through. If just once Jackson Montgomery had said please. Please come for the summer. Please let me in. Accept my love. Instead, he’d made demands.

  Outside of his immediate family, Jake wasn’t used to trusting in the goodness of man. He’d seen enough of the other side of life, and knew just how devious people could be. But this was his best friend’s mother. Fate had taken her son early on and then her husband when she needed him most. If he could convince her that she and Carly both wanted what was best for Christopher, if the two of them would just sit and talk things out, maybe they could make peace.

  “Would you like to meet her, Anna? If I could take you to where they live . . .”

  “Twilight Cove?”

  He froze, stiffer than the freezer-burned burritos, certain he’d never mentioned exactly where he was going. There was only one way she’d know where Carly and Chris were. Sam Godes had gone back on his word.

  Jake searched his memory. He had been sure Godes hadn’t trailed him. He’d have never gone on to Twilight if he’d thought any differently.

  “How’d you find out?”

  “Alexander and Perry had two investigators following you. I suppose it’s a compliment to you that they thought it necessary. One was a man, one a woman posing as a young mother. I have photos of you and my grandson in a park, playing catch. Another of you and Caroline, who we know now calls herself Carly, getting into your car.”

  “If you already know where Christopher is, why call me at all?” He was so pissed at her, more so at himself, that all he wanted to do was hang up. Acid was etching out the lining of his stomach.

  “I wanted to let you know that I’m suing for legal guardianship of Christopher. She’ll be served with papers right away.”

  “Is that what you really want, Anna? To tear them apart? Do you think Chris will love you for it?”

  She sounded less than certain when she said, “He needs a good mother.”

  “He has a good mother.”

  “A mother who misrepresented herself to my son. A mother who assumed an alias and used it for years. Why all the running and hiding if she’s so innocent?”

  “Carly’s a wonderful mother.”

  “She’s a gold digger. A slut.”

  Charles Saunders had been one of the good old boys at the yacht club. Jake imagined the man couldn’t stand the idea of losing to someone like Carly. “You sound like your husband, Anna. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  He was certain Anna didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting guardianship of Christopher—he’d bet money on it— but she could make Carly’s life miserable for a very, very long time. Social Services would interview friends and neighbors. They’d nose around at Christopher’s school. There would be psych evaluations.

  Carly’s past would be dragged out in the open. She’d been a fifteen-year-old runaway, a discipline problem headed for juvenile hall when she assumed Caroline Graham’s identity. Rick wasn’t around to prove she had ever been completely honest with him about her real name and what she’d done.

  “Have you or your lawyer given a thought to Christopher’s welfare while Charles planned all of this, Anna? Let’s say that by some long shot, you succeed. It won’t matter that you’re his grandmother or how much money you have. You won’t be able to force him to love you.” Jake leaned against the wall, stared up at the ceiling, and tried not to think about what the threat of losing her son would do to Carly. “He’ll wind up hating you. Is that what you really want?”

  Silence echoed over the line before Anna said, “I promised Charles.”

  Screw Charles, Jake thought as he strangled his anger.

  “Forget Charles. What do you want?”

  “I want to keep my promise to him. I have to keep my word. I’m hanging up now, Jake. I believe we’ve nothing more to say.”

  He couldn’t let her hang up, not knowing whether she’d ever take another call from him.

  “Is this what Rick would want?”

  For a second or two there was no answer. Then her voice broke. “Rick’s not here, is he? My son’s not here to say.”

  Jake closed his eyes. Her determination reminded him again of his grandfather. It had been so important for Jackson to try to “salvage” him after his dad died. Jackson couldn’t stand the notion that he had failed to control his own son’s life, so he’d tried to meddle in Jake’s.

  “If you cared about Christopher at all, you wouldn’t want to turn his whole world upside down. What you really want is Rick back.”

  There was no answer, but he could hear her ragged breathing on the other end of the line.

  “You can’t do this, Anna. It’s only going to bring heartache to everyone, and when it’s all said and done, you’re the one that’s going to be hurt the most. Why don’t I come by tomorrow? We can sit down and talk this over rationally.”

  “My mind is made up,” she said, though she sounded less than certain. “Everything’s already in motion. I’d thank you not to bother me again.”

  The line went dead and Jake put down the phone. The room smelled like cheap burritos. He wasn’t even hungry anymore. He hoped to God that Carly’s worst nightmare wasn’t about to become a reality.

  He punched in Carly’s number, waited as he let it ring and ring, but she never picked up.

  30

  IT HAD BEEN LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS SINCE ALL hell broke loose in her life.

  Somehow Carly had made it through the night by unplugging her phone and working in her studio. Sleep wasn’t an option.

  It was nine in the morning. Chris was happily eating Fruit Loops on the living-room floor in front of the television watching “Shark Week Day One” on the Discovery Channel. Carly was still in her terry-cloth robe, barely finished with half-a-cup of coffee when the doorbell rang.

  Jake. It was her first thought, until she remembered that he’d gone back to Long Beach.

  Mesmerized by the great white, Chris hadn’t budged. Tightening the sash on her robe, she opened the front door. A county sheriff was standing on the porch, hat in hand along with a legal-sized envelope.

  “Ms. Carly Nolan? A.k.a. Caroline Graham?”

  When she heard Caroline’s name, all she could do was nod.

  He handed her the envelope. “You’ve been served.” Then he turned to walk away.

  “Wait!”

  “Ma’am?”

  “What . . . what is this?”

  “Could be any number of things. I’m just a disinterested party, ma’am.” He put his hat back on and walked down the steps toward the gleaming black-and-white patrol car parked beside Betty Ford.

  Clutching the document, she glanced around to see if anyone was on the street. None of her neighbors was out and about yet, but she glimpsed movement behind Etta’s drapes.

  Somehow she made it to the table before her legs gave o
ut. She ripped open the envelope, scanned the documents. She was to appear at the Superior Court of Los Angeles County on June 29th at two o’clock.

  Four weeks.

  Four weeks.

  Anna Saunders had filed a petition for guardianship of Christopher.

  Anna Saunders knew where she was and knew her name was Carly Nolan.

  She stared down at the pages. Jake hadn’t wasted any time.

  Chris was still on the floor, watching a diver in a mesh suit protected by a steel cage as he tossed hunks of fish out to a school of frenzied sharks.

  Carly easily related to the bait.

  When the phone rang a few minutes later, her first impulse was to rip the cord out of the wall, but acting on autopilot, she answered it. If it was Jake . . .

  If it was Jake, she honestly didn’t know what she was going to say or do. She was too numb to think.

  “Carly?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me, Geoff. You never called back yesterday, and I mean to tell you, I’m miffed.”

  “Geoff?” Thankfully it wasn’t Jake, but she still couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She struggled to get the words past the lump in her throat. “Can you . . . can you come over?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  She was still at the table twenty minutes later when Geoff gave a quick knock, opened the door, and strolled in with his arms full of grocery bags.

  He called out a greeting to Chris as he breezed past Carly and on into the kitchen.

  Chris waved, still stretched out on the floor with his head propped up on one hand. The diver on television was out of the cage and back on the deck of a boat trolling beach-ball-sized chunks of bloody chum.

  Geoff started unpacking the bags, piling fresh veggies all over the countertop along with a carton of eggs, a pint of heavy cream, a half-gallon of fresh-squeezed orange juice, a bottle of champagne and two champagne glasses.

  “First I cook, and then we talk.” He paused, crossed his arms and looked her up and down. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”

  “I feel worse than that.”

  He tipped his head. “I take it my little plan backfired. I figured I owed you one of my special veggie omelettes as an apology.”