This Heart Of Mine

by Susan Elizabeth Philips

  “The best thing might be to talk to her,” Molly said now. “Then you can find out what she wants.”

  “I don’t care.” He rose, grabbed his jeans, and shoved his legs in. “What a shitty week this is turning out to be.”

  Maybe for him, but not for her. This was turning out to be the best week she’d had in months.

  He pushed his fingers through his damp hair and spoke more gently. “Do you still want to go into town?”

  “Sure.”

  “If we go now, we can make it back by five o’clock. You’ll take care of tea for me, won’t you?”

  “Yes, but you know you’ll have to deal with her sooner or later.”

  She watched the play of hard emotion over his face. “I’ll deal with her, but I’m choosing the time and the place.”

  Lilly stood at the attic window and watched Kevin drive away with the football heiress. Her throat tightened as she remembered his contempt. Her baby boy… The child she’d given birth to when she was barely more than a child herself. The son she’d handed over to her sister to raise as her own.

  She knew it had been the right thing to do—the unselfish thing—and the success he’d made of his life proved that. What chance would he have had as the child of an undereducated, screwed-up seventeen-year-old who dreamed of being a star?

  She let go of the curtain and sat on the edge of the bed. She’d met the boy the same day she’d gotten off the bus in L.A. He was a teenager fresh from an Oklahoma ranch and looking for stunt work. They’d shared a room in a fleabag hotel to save money. They’d been young and randy, hiding their fear of a dangerous city behind fumbling sex and tough talk. He’d disappeared before he knew she was pregnant.

  She’d been lucky to find work waiting tables. One of the older waitresses, a woman named Becky, had taken pity on her and let her sleep on her couch. Becky had been a single mother with no patience left at the end of a long workday for the demands of her three-year-old child. Watching the little girl cringe from her mother’s harsh words and occasional slaps had been a cold dose of reality. Two weeks before Kevin was born, Lilly had called Maida and told her about the baby. Her sister and John Tucker immediately drove to L.A.

  They’d stayed with her through Kevin’s birth and even told her she could return to Michigan with them. But she couldn’t go back, and she knew by the way they looked at each other that they didn’t want her to.

  At the hospital, Lilly held her baby boy every chance she got and tried to whisper a lifetime of love to him. She watched the love blossoming on her sister’s face whenever she picked him up, and saw John’s expression soften with longing. Their absolute worthiness to raise her child couldn’t have been more apparent, and she’d loved and hated them for it. Watching them drive away with her baby boy had been the worst moment of her life. Two weeks later, she’d met Craig.

  Lilly knew she’d done the right thing by giving Kevin up, but the price had still been too high. For thirty-two years she’d lived with a gaping hole in her heart that neither her career nor her marriage could fill. Even if she’d been able to have more children, that hole would still have been there. Now she wanted to heal it.

  When she’d been seventeen, the only way she could fight for her son was to give him up. But she wasn’t seventeen anymore, and it was time to find out, once and for all, if she could ever have a place in his life. She’d take whatever he’d give her. A Christmas card once a year. A smile. Something to tell her he’d stopped hating her. The fact that he didn’t want her near him had been brutally apparent each time she’d tried to contact him since Maida’s death, and it had been even more apparent today. But maybe she just hadn’t tried hard enough.

  She thought of Molly and felt a chill. Lilly had no respect for females who preyed on famous men. She’d seen it happen dozens of times in Hollywood. Bored, wealthy young things with no life of their own tried to define themselves by snaring famous men. Molly had trapped him with her pregnancy and her position as the sister of Phoebe Calebow.

  Lilly got up from the bed. During Kevin’s growing up years, she hadn’t been able to protect him when he needed it, but now she had a chance to make up for that.

  Wind Lake was a typical resort village—quaint at its center and a bit shabby at the edges. The main street ran along the lake and featured a few restaurants and gift shops, a marina, an upscale clothing boutique for the tourists, and the Wind Lake Inn.

  Kevin parked and Molly got out of the car. Before they’d left the campground, she’d showered, conditioned her hair, used a little eye makeup and her M.A.C. Spice lipstick. Since she only had sneakers, her sundress wasn’t an option, so she’d slipped into light gray drawstring shorts and a black cropped top, then consoled herself by noticing that she’d lost enough weight to let the shorts ride below her belly button.

  As he came around the front of the car, his eyes skimmed over her, then studied her more closely. She felt an unwelcome tingle and wondered if he liked what he saw, or if he was making an unfavorable comparison with his United Nations companions.

  So what if he was? She liked her body and her face. They might not be memorable to him, but she was happy with them. Besides, she didn’t care what he thought.

  He gestured toward the boutique. “They should have sandals in there if you want to replace the ones you lost in the lake.”

  Boutique sandals were way out of her price range. “I’ll try the beach shop instead.”

  “Their stuff is pretty cheap.”

  She pushed her sunglasses higher on her nose. Unlike his Revos, hers had cost nine dollars at Marshall’s. “I have simple tastes.”

  He regarded her curiously. “You’re not one of those penny-pinching multimillionaires, are you?”

  She thought for a moment, then decided not to play any more games with him about this. It was time for him to see who she was, insanity and all. “I’m not actually a multimillionaire.”

  “It’s fairly common knowledge that you’re an heiress.”

  “Yes, well… “She bit her lip.

  He sighed. “Why do I think I’m going to hear something really wacky?”

  “I guess that depends on your perspective.”

  “Go on. I’m still listening.”

  “I’m broke, okay?”

  “Broke?”

  “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand in a million years.” She walked away from him.

  As she crossed the street toward the beach shop, he came up next to her. It irritated her to see that he looked disapproving, although she should have expected it from Mr. I’ll-Take-the-High-Road, who could be the poster boy for grown-up preachers’ kids, even though he was in denial about it.

  “You blew all that money the first chance you got, didn’t you? That’s why you live in such a small place.”

  She turned on him in the middle of the street. “No, I didn’t blow it. I splurged a little the first year, but believe me, there was plenty left.”

  He took her arm and pulled her out of the traffic onto the curb. “Then what happened?”

  “Don’t you have something better to do than harass me?”

  “Not really. Bad investments? Did you put everything you had in vegetarian crocodile meat?”

  “Very funny.”

  “You cornered the market in bunny slippers?”

  “How about this?” She stopped in front of the beach shop. “I bet everything I had on the Stars in the last game, and some dickhead threw into double coverage.”

  “That was low.”

  She took a deep breath and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Actually, I gave it all away a few years ago. And I’m not sorry.”

  He blinked, then laughed. “You gave it away?”

  “Having trouble with your hearing?”

  “No, really. Tell me the truth.”

  She glared at him and went inside the shop.

  “I don’t believe this. You really did.” He came up behind her. “How much was there?”

 
“A lot more than you have in your portfolio, sonny boy.”

  He grinned. “Come on. You can tell me.”

  She headed for a bin of footwear, then wished she hadn’t, since it was filled with neon plastic sandals.

  “More than three million?”

  She ignored him and reached for the plainest ones, a disgusting pair with silver glitter imbedded in the vamp.

  “Less than three?”

  “I’m not saying. Now, go away and don’t bother me.”

  “If you tell me, I’ll take you over to that boutique, and you can put whatever you want on my credit card.”

  “You’re on.” She threw down the silver glitter sandals and made for the door.

  He moved ahead of her to open it. “Don’t you want me to twist your arm a little so you can hold on to your pride?”

  “Did you see how ugly those sandals were? Besides, I know how much you earned last season.”

  “I’m glad we signed that prenuptial agreement. Here I thought we were protecting your fortune, but son of a gun, in one of those ironic twists life sometimes throws at you, it turns out we were really protecting mine.” His grin grew bigger. “Who’d have figured?”

  He was enjoying himself way too much, so she picked up her stride. “I’ll bet I can max out your credit card in half an hour.”

  “Was it more than three million?”

  “I’ll tell you after I’ve finished shopping.” She smiled at an elderly couple.

  “If you lie, I’m taking everything back.”

  “Isn’t there a mirror someplace where you can go admire yourself?”

  “I never knew a woman so hung up on my good looks.”

  “All your women are hung up on your good looks. They just pretend it’s your personality.”

  “I swear, somebody needs to spank you.”

  “You are, like, so not the man to do it.”

  “You are, like, such a damned brat.”

  She smiled and headed into the boutique. Fifteen minutes later she emerged with two pairs of sandals. Only as she put her sunglasses back on did she notice that Kevin also carried a shopping bag. “What did you buy?”

  “You need a bathing suit.”

  “You bought me one?”

  “I guessed at the size.”

  “What kind of bathing suit?”

  “Jeez, if somebody bought me a present, I’d be happy about it instead of acting so suspicious.”

  “If it’s a thong, it goes back.”

  “Now, would I insult you that way?” They began wandering down the street.

  “A thong is probably the only kind of suit you know exists. I’m sure that’s what all your girlfriends wear.”

  “You think you can distract me, but it’s not going to work.” They passed a sweet shop called Say Fudge. Next to it was a tiny public garden, little more than a few hydrangea bushes and a pair of benches. “It’s reckoning time, Daphne.” He indicated one of the benches, then settled beside her. His arm brushed her shoulder as he propped it along the back. “Tell me all about the money. Didn’t you have to wait till you were twenty-one to get your hands on it?”

  “Yes, but I was still in school, and Phoebe wouldn’t let me touch a penny. She said if I wanted into the accounts before I graduated, I’d have to sue her.”

  “Smart lady.”

  “She and Dan kept me on a pretty tight leash, so once I graduated and she finally handed it over, I did everything you’d expect. I bought a car, moved into a luxury apartment, bought loads of clothes—I do miss those clothes. But after a while the life of a trust-fund baby lost its luster.”

  “Why didn’t you just get a job?”

  “I did, but the money kept hanging over me. I hadn’t earned a penny of it. Maybe if it had come from someone other than Bert Somerville, I wouldn’t have had such a hard time with it, but it felt as if he’d poked his nasty head back in my life, and I didn’t like it. Finally I decided to set up a foundation and give it all away. And if you tell anybody, I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

  “You gave away all of it?”

  “Every penny.”

  “How much?”

  She fiddled with the drawstring on her shorts. “I don’t want to tell you. You already think I’m nuts.”

  “It’s going to be so easy for me to return those sandals.”

  “Fifteen million, all right!”

  He looked as if he’d been face-masked. “You gave away fifteen million dollars!”

  She nodded.

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You are nuts!”

  She remembered the somersault dive she’d made off the cliff. “Probably. But I haven’t regretted it for a moment.” Although now she wouldn’t mind having some of it back so she could keep paying her mortgage.

  “You really don’t miss it?”

  “No. Except for the clothes, which I believe I already mentioned. And thank you for the sandals, by the way. I love them.”

  “My pleasure. Matter of fact, I’ve enjoyed your story so much, I’ll add a new outfit the next time you’re in town.”

  “Done!”

  “God, it’s heartbreaking to see a woman fight so hard to hang tough.”

  She laughed.

  “Kevin! Hello!”

  Molly heard a distinctly Germanic accent and looked up to see a willowy blonde hurrying toward them with a small white box in her hand. The woman wore a blue-and-white-striped apron over black slacks and a V-neck top. She was pretty. Lots of hair, brown eyes, good makeup. She was probably a couple of years older than Molly, nearer Kevin’s age.

  “Hey, there, Christina.” Kevin gave the woman a smile that was way too sexy as he rose to greet her.

  She extended the white cardboard box, and Molly spotted a blue seal on the side with say fudge embossed on it. “You seemed to enjoy the fudge last night, ja? This is a small present to welcome you to Wind Lake. Our sample box.”

  “Thanks a lot.” He looked so pleased that Molly wanted to remind him it was just candy, not a Super Bowl ring! “Christina, this is Molly. Christina owns that fudge shop over there. I met her yesterday when I came into town to grab a burger.”

  Christina was more slender than a woman who owned a fudge shop should be. That struck Molly as a crime against nature.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Molly.”

  “Nice meeting you, too.” Molly could have ignored the curiosity in her expression, but she wasn’t that good a person. “I’m Kevin’s wife.”

  “Oh.” Her disappointment was just as blatant as her mission with the fudge box.

  “Estranged wife,” Kevin cut in. “Molly writes children’s books.”

  “Ach so? I’ve always wanted to write a children’s book. Maybe you could give me a few suggestions sometime.”

  Molly kept her expression pleasant but noncommittal.

  Just once she’d like to meet someone who didn’t want to write a children’s book. People assumed they were easy to write because they were short. They had no idea what went into writing a successful book, one that children genuinely enjoyed and learned from, not just something adults had decided a child should enjoy.

  “I’m sorry you’re going to sell the campground, Kevin. We’ll miss you.” Before Christina could drool over him any more, she spotted a woman heading into the fudge shop. “I have to go. Stop by the next time you’re in town so you can sample my cherry chocolate.”

  The minute she was out of earshot, Molly turned on him. “You can’t sell the campground!”

  “I told you from the beginning that’s what I was doing.”

  True, but it hadn’t meant anything at the time. Now she couldn’t bear the idea that he would throw it away. The campground was a permanent part of him, part of his family, and in a strange way she couldn’t analyze, it was beginning to feel like part of her.

  He misunderstood her silence. “Don’t worry. We won’t have to stay around that long. The minute I find someone to take over, we’re out of here.”


  All the way back to the campground, Molly tried to sort out her thoughts. The only deep roots Kevin had left were here. He’d lost his parents, he had no siblings, and he didn’t seem inclined to let Lilly into his life. The house where he’d grown up belonged to the church. He had nothing to connect him with his past except the campground. It would be wrong to give that up.

  The Common came into sight, and her jumbled thoughts gave way to a feeling of peace. Charlotte Long was sweeping her front porch, an elderly man rode by on a three-wheel bike, and a couple chatted on a bench. Molly drank in the storybook cottages and shady trees.

  No wonder she’d experienced a sense of familiarity the moment she’d arrived here. She’d stepped through the pages of her books right into Nightingale Woods.

  Instead of heading along the lake where she might meet someone, Lilly followed a narrow path that led into the woods beyond the Common. She’d changed into a pair of slacks and a square-neck, tobacco-brown top, but she was still hot, and she wished she were thin enough to wear shorts. Those little white ones that had been a permanent part of her wardrobe on Lace, Inc. They’d barely covered her bottom.

  Weeds brushed her legs as the trees opened into a meadow. Her toes felt pleasantly gritty inside her sandals, and some of the tension she’d been carrying all day began to ease. She heard running water from a stream and turned to look for it, only to see something so out of place that she blinked.

  A chrome diner’s chair with a red vinyl seat.

  Lilly couldn’t imagine what it was doing in the middle of the meadow. As she began to walk toward it, she saw a creek with ferns growing among the reeds and mossy rocks. The chair sat on a lichen-encrusted boulder. Its red vinyl seat sparkled in the sunlight, and there was no visible rust, so it had been put there recently. But why? Its perch was precarious, and it wobbled as she touched it.

  “Leave that alone!”

  She spun around to see a big bear of a man crouched in bars of sunlight at the edge of the meadow.