by Mary Campisi
“May I ask who’s calling?”
He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and said, “Name’s Len Slewinski. Tell him it’s urgent.” Len said three Hail Mary’s and started on his fourth when Rourke Flannigan came on the line.
“This is Rourke Flannigan.”
“Mr. Flannigan, don’t know if you remember me or not, but—”
“I remember you, Mr. Slewinski. You called me a big city boy with a fancy car and shiny shoes.”
Len mopped his forehead again. “Yeah, well, I might have been a bit hasty with my words.”
“What do you want?”
There was steel in the man’s voice. Probably the same kind that was in prison bars—the place Len was going once he told this man what really happened to Clay. Len gulped in a breath, maybe his last one as a free man and said, “It’s about Clay. He wasn’t wearing a harness when he fell.” Pause. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, give me strength. “I put it on him afterward.” Rourke Flannigan didn’t answer. Was the man going to torment Len by making him repeat himself? Dang it all, he was. The S.O.B. was a real jerk. Len opened his mouth to suffer through his confession again when the man spoke.
“You realize you’ve committed a crime.”
“’Course I do.” He didn’t have to be all snooty about it. Len might be going to jail but he’d walk there with his head held high—even if he was in handcuffs and leg chains. “I meant no harm. I never thought there’d be a trial or the like. I just wanted to protect Clay and Katie.”
“I see.”
Crap, the man was going to draw this out and make Len suffer. “Just so you know, I plan on turning myself in as soon we finish here. Got my bag all packed. I know the sheriff. I’ll have him contact you once I’m fingerprinted and such.”
“Mr. Slewinski—”
“Clay was a good man. When the town finds out what really happened, they’ll call him a fool and Katie and Julia will have to live with that.”
“Aren’t you worried about what they’ll think of you?”
“Not particularly.”
“I’m going to hang up the phone now, Mr. Slewinski, and forget we ever had this conversation.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m not going to press charges.”
“You’re not? Why?”
“Because the truth will harm more people than it will help. And because I might have done the same thing in your situation.”
“Oh. Well, thank you, then.” The phone clicked and Rourke Flannigan was gone. Len clutched the receiver in his left hand and made the sign of the cross with his right. Maybe he’d been wrong about Rourke Flannigan after all.
***
Rourke hung up with Len Slewinski and wondered if any other Montpelier residents would call today to expose secrets. He doubted any would top Georgeanne Redmond’s. Who would have thought she’d be the one to unearth the lies and shed truth on his life? What would the world think if they knew Rourke Flannigan was not really who they thought he was? Maybe he would tell them all—starting with Diana. Minutes later, he knocked on her door and waited the customary three seconds for her response.
“Come in.”
She’d think it was Margot, her secretary, since no one contacted Diana without an appointment, not even to discuss making an appointment. Rourke opened the door and stepped inside. Diana glanced up, nodded, and continued stirring her tea. At 3:15 p.m. every day, she drank spiced black tea to boost her immunities and keep her mind alert. At 4:00, it would be green tea, at 6:00, oolang. Diana would need all of her mental capacity for what he was about to divulge.
“What’s wrong? Did Chemstron refuse our latest offer?”
He sank into the chair opposite her and picked up a paperweight. “Madame Butterfly,” he said, studying the fine yellow script on the paperweight. “Didn’t she kill herself?”
“She did.”
“Hmmm.” He looked up and met Diana’s gaze. “This isn’t about business.”
“I see.” She set down her spoon. “Is this about the child?”
He heard her tone, her words. Her meaning. “No. It’s about Georgeanne Redmond.” The woman’s name sent an allergic reaction through Diana. Her eyes narrowed and shrunk into their sockets. Her face turned ashen, then darker still. Her fingers shook, then stretched flat on the desktop, gripping the smooth wood. “So, you remember her?”
“How could I forget the woman who ran over your mother?”
“Interesting. That’s not how she remembers it.”
“Of course not. Do you expect a woman like that to tell the truth? Why she’s probably never told a single truth in her entire life. She should have gone to jail.”
Ah, Diana was morphing back to her old self. “She said it was an attempted suicide.”
“Suicide?” Diana spat out the word.
“Why is that so hard to believe? My mother never got over my father’s death. She lived on Vicodin and Valium. Surely, you knew that.”
Diana looked away. “She needed a little boost over a rough time.”
“That rough time never ended. She got hooked and depressed and nobody could help her because she didn’t want to be helped. Let’s be honest here, she could have been rehabilitated after the accident, gotten outside, driven a car. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want anything but those damn pills and they finally did her in.”
Diana threw back her slender shoulders and held her head high. “That’s not true. What happened to your mother was a result of one woman’s selfish behavior.”
“I agree.”
“That woman is behind your mother’s destruction.”
“True.”
“Yet she’s walking free.”
He stared at Diana. “Yes, she is.”
“What are you looking at? Is it because I speak so boldly about the woman?”
“No, that’s not it at all.” She really had no idea.
Diana sipped her tea and studied him. “I’ve always believed in getting to the point. I would prefer you not speak with the woman again.”
“I see no reason to, do you?”
“No, I don’t. She’ll only cause you more grief.”
“More than she’s already caused?”
“Absolutely.” She nodded her silver head. “You’ve no use for her anyway.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement.” She eased back in her chair and her voice softened. “I do enjoy our conversations, Rourke.”
“So do I,” he said, then added, “Mother.” The word cracked the expression on her face, splitting the smugness she wore so casually into a thousand pieces. She tried to recover, but fear rimmed her next words.
“I’ve never heard a more ridiculous statement in my life.”
“Really? You don’t think the truth ate at the woman I thought was my mother? That maybe before she died she wanted me to know?”
Diana shook her head and stumbled to her feet. “This is crazy talk and I am not having this conversation.”
Rourke stood and made his way around the desk until he towered over her. “We’re going to have this conversation and you’re going to tell me the truth. If not, I’ll expose you and then see what your precious stockholders think of the great Diana Flannigan.” She met his demand with silence, but she had to be panicked.
The standoff continued until finally, she stepped back and paced the room. “I was studying at Cambridge. He was working on his doctorate in economics. I got pregnant. Your grandfather wouldn’t hear of an illegitimate child so he devised a plan.”
“Was marriage such a distasteful alternative?”
Diana’s blue eyes darkened. “It wasn’t an alternative. Your father was the son of one of the most powerful men in Great Britain. Along with that came certain responsibilities.”
“Such as?”
“An arranged marriage to a textile heiress. The knowledge nothing could ever come of our feelings for one another didn’t stop us from being
together.” Her voice dipped. “When I learned I was pregnant, I contacted my father and left Cambridge immediately. Your father never knew.”
It was Rourke and Kate all over again, but different. “You didn’t even give him a choice.”
She shook her head. “I loved him too much to risk his doing something foolish. Besides, your grandfather had other plans. He worked everything out. Your mother, I mean, Barbara, left town for several months and when she returned, she had a baby.”
Rourke stared at the woman who had birthed him. “But I only saw you a handful of times for the first eighteen years.”
“Not because I wanted it that way.” She walked to the credenza, fitted a small key in the lock, and opened the drawer. “I have drawers full of your schoolwork. Drawings, essays, math tests.” She pulled out a handful and waved them at him. “I promised Barbara I wouldn’t have contact with you until you went to college. I never would have told you, Rourke. I wanted you to believe she was your real mother, but she went and told that damn woman.”
“You blackmailed Georgeanne.”
“I told her if she kept quiet, I wouldn’t press charges. It was a win-win situation, hardly blackmail.”
“And Kate? Did you know she was pregnant?”
“Of course I did. Georgeanne contacted me all in a frenzy, afraid her daughter would leave her. We made a deal. I’d distract you and she’d pave the way for Clay Maden to step in.”
Rourke stared at Diana as a slow queasiness filled his gut. They’d all had their hands in plotting against him and Kate, even Clay, the righteous one. “We never stood a chance.”
Diana shrugged. “Look at you, Rourke. Could you have accomplished all of this with a baby and a wife from Podunk, New York? And no education? You should thank me for stepping in and directing you.”
“Do you understand what you’ve done? I loved Kate and you took her away and now I’ve probably lost her for good and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Have you ever loved someone so much you were willing to give him up because it was the right thing to do?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, her eyes bright. “I have.”
Chapter 34
“You read the letter.”—Rourke Flannigan
Rourke sipped his bourbon and nodded at Miles. He wanted this birthday party like a vasectomy without anesthesia. Diana had taken an indefinite leave of absence, which was just as well because right now, he didn’t know what he felt toward her. After all these years, to learn the mother who raised him was really his aunt was too much to take in. If that weren’t exhausting enough, Kate had clawed a hole in his heart with a ferociousness that made it hard to believe it could still beat. And Abbie and Julia were driving him crazy with their secrecy.
“…and I must say, Maxine might just be right about that.” A quiet smile slipped over Miles Gregory’s face. “Maxine is a very intelligent woman.”
“I think she appreciates your intelligence too, Miles.” The man beamed like a 100-watt bulb.
“Indeed.”
“So, what are you going to do about this mutual admiration?”
“Do?”
You’d have thought he asked the man to strip and do a half-pike into the pool. Rourke glanced across the room to where Maxine huddled with Abbie and Julia. “You have to do something, Miles. Surely you know that.”
“Why?”
“Because of the mutual admiration. I place you in charge of the legal dealings of my entire company and yet you can’t figure out a simple attraction principle? That worries me, Miles.”
“I’m not very good with relationships.” He pulled at his bow tie and cleared his throat. “They’re too unpredictable.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What’s the point of forming an alliance and sharing pieces of oneself and one’s emotions which can only be used as arsenal?”
“I agree.”
“It’s totally illogical.” Miles glanced in Maxine’s direction and his expression softened.
“Totally.”
“Relationships strip a person of rational decision making.” Maxine looked up and smiled at him.
“Yes, they do.”
“But there is that one percent of time and circumstance that leads one to hope.” Miles smiled back at Maxine and lifted his hand in acknowledgement.
“Hope?” Hope didn’t belong in the relationship equation.
“Hope for a blissful union,” Miles said, sounding like a love-struck puppy. “Of heart, mind,” he sighed, “and body.”
Rourke downed the rest of his drink and patted Miles on the back. “Go for it, Miles. Just make sure the union doesn’t end in a bloody massacre.”
***
“You sent it?” Julia whispered, eyeing Rourke from the corner of the room. Well-wishers had been circling him all night. But not the one they’d hoped for.
“I’m sorry, girls. I thought it would make a difference.” Maxine shook her head. “If I’m going to get fired, at least I wanted to do it for a cause.”
“You are doing it for a cause,” Abbie said. “We all know Rourke and Mrs. Maden are crazy about each other, even if they’re too stubborn to do something about it.”
“True.”
Julia squeezed Maxine’s hand. “Just like you and Mr. Gregory are crazy about each other.”
Maxine turned fuchsia. “Why would you say a thing like that?”
“We might be thirteen but we can spot true love when we see it, can’t we Julia?”
“Absolutely. We can spot phonies, too. Like Janice.”
“Mr. Gregory has never been anything but polite and courteous. Like a brother.”
Abbie snorted. “No brother looks at his sister like he wants to squeeze the life out of her.”
“Abbie, please.”
“Okay, okay. We can deal with your love life later. Right now, what about Mrs. Maden? How do you know she’s not coming?”
“She didn’t respond to the fax.”
“Oh.”
“Should I call her? Or Angie?” Julia asked.
“There’s no point,” Abbie said. “If your mom didn’t believe those papers, she won’t believe anything.”
“But I think maybe they really were meant to be together.”
Maxine sighed and squeezed both girls’ hands. “Sometimes that’s just not enough.”
***
“Happy birthday, Rourke.” Abbie leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks, kid.” His niece was turning into a human being, imagine that.
“Happy birthday, Rourke.” This from Julia, who kissed his other cheek.
He pulled them both into a bear hug and chuckled. “Kisses from my two best girls. It doesn’t get much better than this.” His heart lurched as he realized the truth of his words. Somewhere in the last several weeks, they’d embedded themselves in his heart in a way only a child could. They were his children now. Both of them. Who would have thought?
“We tried to plan a surprise for you,” Abbie said, her words smothered in disappointment. “But it didn’t work out.”
“I’m too old for surprises,” he said, wondering what they’d attempted. A magician? A juggler?
“I guess.” Julia made no effort to hide the dejection in her voice.
He hated seeing them so disappointed. Was this how a parent felt? He tackled the beginnings of panic head on. “Having the two of you here is the best present a guy could hope for.”
“God, that is so lame,” Abbie said, but gave him a full-blown grin.
“Mr. Flannigan? Sir?”
He turned to see Maxine bee-lining in his direction. “Maxine?” She looked redder than the sundried tomato spread he’d eaten earlier. “For God’s sake, what is it?”
Maxine clutched Abbie and Julia’s arms and whispered in faint disbelief, “She came.”
“Who came?”
“I knew it!” Abbie beamed.
Julia cheered. “Me, too!”
“Who are you talking about?
” If Janice had found a way to crash this party—
“Look, Rourke,” Maxine said, dispensing of the ‘Mr. Flannigan’.
He followed her gaze and spotted a woman standing in the doorway wearing a black halter dress, her dark hair spilling over creamy shoulders in a glossy swirl of magnificence. “Kate,” he breathed. She moved toward him, sidestepping couples, waiters, and tables, her gaze never leaving his. “Kate,” he said again, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. The woman who had haunted him for fourteen years grew closer, squeezing the air from his lungs with each step. He tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come.
When she stood a breath away, she opened her beautiful mouth and said, “My mother told me she called you.”
“She did.” He did not want to talk about this now.
“She told me about your mother.” She hesitated, “Your real mother.”
“Right this second, that’s the last thing on my mind.” God, she was so beautiful.
Her blue eyes rimmed with tears. “It seems everyone was determined to keep us apart. My mother, yours, even Clay.”
