Birthright

by Judith Arnold

“He’s changed since high school. Of course, we all have.” She had, probably more than anyone else. “I like him,” she added. “He seems like a good man.” She smiled, aware that Charlie was gaping at her as if she’d just announced she was planning to tattoo a bloody dagger onto her forehead. “You two must know each other pretty well. You helped him rebuild Old Man Miller’s cabin when he bought it, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, we get along,” Charlie confirmed.

  “But…Aaron Mazerik? How in the world did you get together with him?”

  Lily pursed her lips and stared out at the yellow roses climbing the trellis frame abutting her garage. She hadn’t “gotten together” with Aaron, but she contemplated getting together with him shamefully often. She spent too many idle hours picturing his eyes, his mouth and the rippling surface of his chest and abdomen. She dreamed about things she shouldn’t, things good girls didn’t think about, things a grieving widow shouldn’t want.

  That wasn’t why she’d invited him over, however. If she’d wanted to seduce him, she wouldn’t have asked Charlie to join them, or the Penningtons, or Mitch, or Erin and Joe. And she didn’t want to seduce Aaron. She was a long way from being that brave. When she thought about Aaron’s eyes and mouth and body, she was only indulging in a little harmless fantasizing, something she hadn’t done since she’d met Tyler. She was only exercising her imagination to make sure it still worked.

  The evening was hot but not humid. Charlie appeared comfortable in a pair of khaki shorts and a plaid shirt. Lily was wearing one of her thousand-dollar summer dresses and hoping it didn’t look as expensive as it was. She went back into the kitchen to get the bowl of mixed nuts and the platter of vegetables and dip she’d fixed. Before she could lift them, she heard the doorbell chime.

  A dark tingle fluttered through her. She braced herself for the sight of him and strolled through the kitchen, down the hall to the front door.

  He stood on the porch, clad in a pair of faded jeans, a navy blue shirt and sandals. Seeing him sent another dark tingle through her. Aaron Mazerik had a stunning physique. As an artist, as a woman, Lily was aware of such things. All too aware.

  She smiled, and her smile relaxed her as much as she hoped it would relax him. “Thanks for coming,” she said, beckoning him inside. “Charlie Callahan’s on the back porch with a beer. Would you like one?”

  Aaron entered the foyer without speaking. His gaze wandered across her face and down her body, making her feel a little less relaxed. She kept her smile in place, though, a defensive shield against his attractiveness.

  “I’d love a beer,” he finally said, his voice surprisingly quiet.

  All right, maybe she’d made a big mistake inviting him over. Maybe she wasn’t ready to accept the temptation Aaron offered. Maybe she ought to go back to being a hermit, trusting no one, keeping to herself. Maybe she ought to discard the acrylic paints she’d just purchased and the canvases she’d spent the past few days framing and stretching, and resume painting her timid little watercolors.

  But it was too late to change anything now. Aaron was in her house and he wanted a beer. She’d hosted plenty of difficult parties during her marriage. Surely she could manage a gathering that consisted of two friends.

  She summoned her good-hostess manners as she led him down the hall to the kitchen. “Mitch Sterling and the Wilsons couldn’t make it tonight. And the Penningtons were going to join us, but they have a sick child,” she informed him. “Do you know them? Ed and Grace.” She glanced over her shoulder in time to see him frown slightly. She didn’t know whether that meant he didn’t know the Penningtons, or he knew them and didn’t like them.

  It didn’t matter, she reminded herself. They weren’t coming. And this wasn’t a dinner party. And she ought to stop analyzing everything and fretting about nonsense.

  He surveyed her spacious kitchen, then accepted the bottle of beer she handed him from the refrigerator. “Would you like a glass?” she asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  The room felt smaller when he was in it. The walls seemed to lean in, compressing the air, compelling her to move closer to him to prevent being crushed. Resisting the urge, she poured a glass of iced tea for herself and gestured toward the back door. He opened it for her, and she passed in front of him. He smelled of pine and mint.

  “Hey,” Charlie greeted them as they stepped out onto the porch. He hoisted his beer in a silent toast to Aaron, who nodded and lifted his bottle back at Charlie. “Happy Independence Day, Maz.”

  “Happy Fourth.” Aaron crossed to the railing and leaned his backside against it.

  “What did you think of the parade?” Charlie asked.

  “Noisy. Corny.” Aaron grinned.

  “There wasn’t enough free candy,” Charlie complained, then returned Aaron’s grin. “So, how’s your deck holding up?”

  “It’s great. You did a good job on it.”

  “All I did was tell you what to do. You did the actual work.”

  Lily let herself relax again. Charlie and Aaron were getting along wonderfully. Fifteen years ago they might not have had much to say to each other, but fifteen years…fifteen years was a lifetime.

  She left them to return to the kitchen for the nuts and vegetables. Spying on them through the window, she saw that Charlie was still seated, Aaron still leaning against the railing, and the two of them were talking like old pals. She smiled. At her fancy dinner parties in Cohasset, one of her primary functions as hostess had been to make sure her guests got along, mixed and mingled, made friends with one another. She felt like a good hostess tonight, witnessing two people she adored as they became friends.

  No, she didn’t adore Aaron. She didn’t know him well enough. She just…felt something. Something deep and resonant. Something that could blossom, with enough water and sunshine.

  Their voices drifted in through the screen. “Just as well the Penningtons aren’t coming,” Charlie was saying. “We get along fine, but I’m always afraid that won’t last. Ed’s sister is my ex-wife.”

  “Oh?”

  “Beth Pennington. Remember her from school?”

  Aaron ruminated, then shook his head.

  “Yeah, well. One of those small-town things.” Charlie lifted his bottle to his lips and drank. So did Aaron.

  Lily didn’t know if Charlie intended to get maudlin—he’d certainly never indicated any lingering scars from his brief marriage to Beth—but she thought it best to get back outside, just in case the conversation started to deteriorate. She carried the snacks to the table by the wicker chairs, and Charlie immediately dug into the bowl of nuts, helping himself to a fistful.

  Aaron turned his gaze to her. His eyes were uncannily focused, eerily beautiful. The multitude of colors in them unsettled her almost as much as the potency of his stare. What did he see when he looked at her like that? A friend? A wealthy pushover with a checkbook? A woman?

  A woman who saw an incredibly tantalizing, almost frighteningly sexy man when she looked at him?

  Charlie’s attention shuttled back and forth between the two of them, and Lily forced herself to stop thinking about Aaron before Charlie read her mind.

  “So,” she said brightly, “how are things going with the basketball program?”

  “Better,” Aaron said, his steady gaze implying that she was the reason it was going better. More accurately, her money was the reason. She realized she didn’t want Charlie to know about her impulsive donation, though she was gratified it was making a difference in Aaron’s work.

  She scrambled for another subject. Fortunately Charlie came to her rescue. “How about you, Lily? You feeling better these days? You’re sure looking better.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I think it was a great idea for you to invite us over tonight. Don’t you agree?” he asked Aaron.

  “She’s going to feed us. Of course it’s a great idea.”

  Charlie laughed. Lily hastened to set them straight. “You’re not getting any kind
of elaborate dinner. I’ve got fresh rolls and a loaf of rye bread, cold cuts, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes at the grocery store. It’s do-it-yourself sandwiches.”

  “My favorite!” Charlie declared cheerfully. “You sure learned about sophisticated entertaining in Boston, didn’t you?”

  Ordinarily Lily wouldn’t mind Charlie’s teasing. But she still felt too fragile about her years in Boston.

  It was Aaron’s turn to rescue her. “Did you go to the parade with anyone?” he asked.

  “My father.” She sighed, recalling her futile attempts to get her father to take her mother’s upcoming birthday seriously. She’d attempted to raise the subject with him again during the parade, but he’d remained just as dense. Abruptly she had an idea. An odd one, perhaps, but she was with two friends, each with his own unique viewpoint. “You know, I could use your help.”

  “Uh-oh.” Charlie sent Aaron a grim smile. “See? There’s no such thing as a free do-it-yourself sandwich.”

  Lily poked him in the arm to silence him. “It’s my father. My mother, actually. She’s turning sixty soon, and I want to do something wonderful to celebrate her birthday. My father seems completely uninterested. But turning sixty is a big event.”

  Neither man spoke. Charlie’s expression went blank. Aaron’s gaze didn’t waver.

  “I’m really stumped. I just don’t know what would be appropriate. Maybe you guys can help.”

  “How can we possibly help?” Charlie asked.

  “You know my parents. And, Aaron—” she turned to him “—you can help because you obviously have a special relationship with your mother.”

  Aaron’s gaze grew chilly. He finally smiled, but it was a tight, bitter smile. “Oh, yeah,” he muttered. “Our relationship is special, all right.”

  Lily shrank inwardly. She’d made a serious miscalculation, although she wasn’t sure exactly what the damage was, or how bad. “I thought, since you came back to Riverbend because your mother had fallen ill…”

  He drank some beer, then addressed the bottle. “My mother and I have worked out a truce. I can’t say it’s solid, but we’ve gotten this far, which is something of a miracle. If that means our relationship is special, all right. It’s special.”

  “Did you do anything for her sixtieth birthday?” Lily asked him.

  “She’s fifty-three.” His tone of voice led Lily to suspect he would not be planning anything big seven years down the road.

  Okay. She’d botched things in assuming Aaron and Evie Mazerik were close. If Aaron hated her for it, he could leave.

  She looked at Charlie, once again hoping for rescue. He didn’t seem all that eager to bail her out. Indeed, he looked rather intrigued by the tension churning in the air between her and Aaron.

  “I’m going to get the sandwich fixings together,” she said. “If you get any brainstorms, let me know.” She escaped to the kitchen.

  She didn’t expect them to come up with brainstorms. She hoped they would talk about anything other than her mother and her own ineptitude. They could congratulate each other some more over Aaron’s deck, or discuss the parade, or their cars or sports, or whatever guys talked about while drinking beer on a back porch. She’d been an idiot to think she was ready to have a couple of friends over for a casual get-together. But if she left them alone, they might distract each other from that fact.

  In the last couple of years of her marriage, she recalled as she pulled the cold-cuts platter out of the refrigerator, Tyler used to criticize her even when her dinner parties were perfect. He used to complain that she’d been stingy with the cocktails—and she supposed she had been, whispering to the bartender she’d hired to mix Tyler’s drinks weak. Tyler would complain that she kept glaring at him, although she glared only when he was on his fourth martini and the effect of all that liquor was starting to show. She could never enjoy her parties, because she spent so much energy worrying about how drunk he was going to get. He refused to believe her when she told him she was thinking only of him, wanting to prevent him from making a fool of himself in front of his guests. Maybe he’d been right not to believe her. She’d been thinking of herself, too, thinking about how unpleasant things might become after everyone went home and she was left with an inebriated husband to put to bed.

  She wasn’t going to have to deal with an inebriated husband tonight, thank God. Even if she’d inadvertently touched a sore spot with Aaron when she’d mentioned his mother, this party was going to be okay.

  Once the rolls were in a straw basket lined with a linen napkin, the bread arranged on a silver bread plate and the meat, cheese and garnishes out on the table, she called the men inside. They were engaged in a cheerful argument about whether Larry Bird was truly the greatest basketball player who had ever laced on a pair of sneakers. “He’s from Indiana,” Charlie asserted. “That says it all.”

  “He played his best games for Boston,” Aaron shot back. “He had to leave Indiana in order to reach his peak.”

  “But he came back to Indiana,” Charlie said. “He learned what he needed to know while playing for Boston, but then he brought all that wisdom back home. Just like Lily, right?”

  She hadn’t peaked in Boston, but she’d certainly brought some wisdom home with her, even if she’d earned her wisdom the hard way.

  Aaron and Charlie seemed thrilled by the array of food, which made her smile. Heaven only knew what bachelors in their thirties ate for dinner most nights. They all sat around the kitchen table—much cozier than her high-ceilinged dining room with its chair rails and moldings and elaborate brass chandelier—and constructed overstuffed sandwiches for themselves.

  Once they had exhausted the subject of Larry Bird and tucked into their food, Lily attempted to return to the problem of her mother’s birthday. She could pick their brains without mentioning Evie. “Okay, guys,” she said. “It’s your wisdom I need right now. How can I convince my father that my mother’s sixtieth is important? You’re men. Tell me how to get through to him.”

  “Just explain to him that it’s important,” Charlie suggested. “Men can be thick, but if you explain it enough times, he’ll eventually catch on. What do you think, Aaron? You know Dr. Bennett, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Aaron said, then took a bite of his sandwich.

  “Do you think Lily should bludgeon him until he’s prepared to do the right thing for his wife?”

  “Dr. Bennett always does the right thing,” Aaron said, an ironic undertone to his words.

  “What do you mean?” Lily asked, curious about how her friends saw her father.

  “I mean, if it’s the right thing to do, he’ll do it. Pay house calls, make sick children smile, stay on top of the latest treatments…” Aaron studied his sandwich, as if the layers of turkey and ham and cheese truly fascinated him. “Meet his obligations, whatever they are.”

  “Do you think he views celebrating my mother’s birthday as an obligation?”

  “It shouldn’t be an obligation,” Charlie said. “He should be happy to help you plan something because he loves your mom.” He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed, thoughtfully. “Tell him to buy her diamonds.”

  “Diamonds are on the list,” Lily agreed with a smile.

  “Tell him he has to devote the rest of his life to satisfying her every need. She’ll love that.”

  “She will,” Lily agreed again. “She’s devoted her whole life to fulfilling his needs. Why shouldn’t he devote his life to fulfilling hers? What do you think, Aaron?”

  “It’s the least she deserves,” he said coolly.

  Something about him had changed. He seemed more reserved, as if protecting his words. He no longer looked directly at her, but instead concentrated on his food.

  He clearly didn’t want to talk about Eleanor Bennett’s birthday. “Diamonds sound like a good solution,” Lily concluded, accepting that it was time to let the subject drop.

  Aaron came back to life as they veered to other topics. He contributed a few opin
ions about the summer’s crop of movies, argued about whether the mosquito population was on the increase and debated theories about why Jacob Steele hadn’t come home for his father’s memorial service. Charlie and Lily did more talking than Aaron, but he let his guard drop a little.

  She wished she could ask him about his relationship with his mother. Truce or no truce, his bond with Evie Mazerik was clearly not a simple thing. Perhaps he’d come back to Riverbend not because he loved his mother, but because he’d been honoring his obligations. Perhaps he was like her father that way.

  She wished she could ask him about himself, about the undercurrents pulsing beneath his quiet surface. About how he’d transformed himself from a kid who had trouble obeying the rules in school to an adult who was now in a position to make and enforce the school rules himself. About why he’d agreed to come to her house tonight, why he looked at her the way he did, whether she was totally insane to think they were friends.

  She had ice cream for dessert, but none of the three flavors she’d bought enticed Charlie. He really had to be leaving, he insisted. He had “stuff” awaiting his attention at home. Thanking Lily for the meal, he promised that if he came up with some other ideas for her mother’s birthday, he’d give her a call. Then he kissed her cheek and headed out the front door.

  Lily closed it behind him, sighed and turned to find Aaron looming at the other end of the entry hall, filling the kitchen doorway. She’d known Charlie long enough and well enough to comprehend that having stuff awaiting his attention at home wasn’t why he’d left. He’d sensed something between her and Aaron. And yes, he would be calling her, possibly with ideas for her mother’s birthday, but more likely to ask her what exactly that something was.

  If he asked her now, she wouldn’t be able to answer. All she knew was that just as the kitchen had seemed smaller when she’d stood in there with Aaron, so her entire house felt smaller when he lurked at the other end of the hallway, as if unseen forces were drawing them closer.

  They stared at each other long enough for her to feel the strange dark tingle again, sliding down her spine and settling in her hips. So much had changed in the past fifteen years, but not the shiver of desire she’d always felt when she’d seen Aaron, even when they’d been teenagers and she’d been too innocent to know what she was feeling or what to do about it.