Mimi bit her bottom lip. “Actually, it wasn’t my father. I was the one who came to the police station and confessed it was all my fault. I said that my father had sent you to rescue me. Then I left before you could see me—I was so embarrassed.”
Vic had his hands on the waistband of his boxers. “Really? That’s nice to know.” He smiled broadly. “Well, this time in a way, he played a vital part—much as I hate to say it. Because the old coot did ask me to come to Reunions to rescue you.”
The wail of sirens pierced the air.
“Vic, get out of there,” Mimi ordered.
“Not until you agree to travel with me.” He started to lower the underwear.
Mimi shook her head, climbed in the pool and waded over to him. “Okay, okay. Enough.” She wrapped her arms around his chest. “You made your point. I’ll travel with you.”
“And afterward?” He held her tight.
“Afterward, we’ll see.” But she already knew the answer.
The sirens grew louder.
Mimi looked at him, her brow worried. “Who’s going to save us now?”
Vic smiled. “Roxie. Just whistle, and she’ll come running.”
“Just like me, if it’s the right whistler.”
Then they put their lips together and used them in an even more satisfying way.
EPILOGUE
Late August
Australia
“WHAT?” MIMI SHOT Vic a look.
He glanced at her sideways. They were seated side by side in front of an oversize computer screen.
She followed his gaze, which honed in on the way she was sitting on her hands. “Oh, that. I’m cold. So sue me.” True, the damp winter temperatures in Melbourne were a marked change from the tropical climate of the Great Barrier Reef where they’d just come from. But she also knew that the weather wasn’t the only reason she’d jammed her hands under her thighs.
“Hello? Hello?” Noreen’s voice came over the Skype connection.
“Noreen.” Mimi turned to the screen. “Hold up. I hear you, but I can’t see you. There’s a small window showing Vic and me, but the rest of the screen is blank.”
“Geez. You’d think you’d never used Skype before.” Press leaned over her shoulder and moved the curser to the icon of a video camera in the upper right corner. Immediately, Noreen came into view.
“Now we’ve got you,” Vic announced. “So how are things in Grantham? And more important, how are you feeling?”
“Enormous.” Noreen laughed and rubbed her swollen midriff. “Being pregnant with twins tends to accelerate the bodily changes. Have I mentioned my enormous breasts?” She held up her hands to display ever more burgeoning curves.
Vic opened his eyes wide.
Mimi teasingly backhanded him in the stomach. “You look great, Noreen. Nobody wears a baby bump as well as you, that’s for sure.” In her sleeveless yoga top, riding high on her rounded belly, Noreen appeared positively radiant. “So do you feel as well as you look? No complications?”
Noreen shook her head. “None really. Thank goodness the first trimester’s nausea is over—that’s all I can say. Unfortunately, the only downside is that at my advanced age—and with the prospect of twins—the doctor is a little toe-y about me doing too much travel, especially to Africa. So that means that Lilah will have to bear the brunt of traveling to Congo for a while.”
“I’m sure Lilah and Justin understand. And speaking of adjustments, how’s my father handling the news of twins?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Noreen shifted her laptop, and Conrad came into the picture. He was sitting next to her on one of the stools at the kitchen island in their house in Grantham.
“Hello, Mary Louise. You look well. It appears that Australia agrees with you,” Conrad said with a stiff smile.
At the mention of her double-barrel given name, Mimi immediately sat up straighter.
Out of range of the computer, Vic patted her on her leg. “She’s a champion snorkler, I can tell you that,” he responded to Conrad’s comment. “You should have been there. She was the first one off the boat to swim with the manta rays, and they were not exactly tiny.”
“I’m glad to hear you are back to your bold self, not to mention enjoying life,” Conrad said.
Begrudgingly, Mimi had to admit he sounded genuine. “And what about you? Ready for the changes that come with a growing family?”
“Actually, Conrad has news in that department,” Noreen said with a loving smile at her husband.
It may have been the slightly erratic connection, but Mimi could have sworn she saw her father blush.
Conrad reached across the counter and took Noreen’s hand. “I’ve decided I should spend more time closer to home. I’m giving up my commuting ways, so to speak.” He gazed at his wife. “Indeed, Noreen, with her altruistic outlook, convinced me that I should consider giving back to the community in some way. So, I talked to several university administrators to offer my services, and we all agreed that the perfect fit would be in the Development Office. I’ll be involved with drumming up support from my fellow alumni, helping them to remember their alma mater in the generous manner it deserves. After all, they wouldn’t have become so successful if it weren’t for the polish and the academic excellence, not to mention the connections, that a Grantham education afforded them. Don’t think I won’t be meeting with you, too, Vic.”
“I look forward to it,” Vic replied, carefully keeping his voice neutral.
“So with you teaching at Grantham this coming Fall semester, that means we’ll be able to have lunch together at the Faculty Club,” Conrad reminded Mimi.
“I look forward to that, too.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Prescott is there, I gather?”
Mimi gladly got up from her chair and waved her brother toward the computer.
Press slumped in the chair. He ran his hand through his curly hair, which was much longer than it had been in June, a fluffy Harpo Marx do. “Hello, Father, Noreen,” he said formally. He answered politely but monosyllabically while Noreen badgered him good-naturedly about his diet.
“And have you thought about what you’ll be doing after you finish up your master’s degree?” Conrad asked. He didn’t bother with small talk.
“I’m in the process of applying for Ph.D. programs in America,” Press answered curtly.
“I hope you’ve included Grantham among your choices,” Conrad lectured.
Press rattled off a handful of universities that were tops in the field of paleontology, none of which included Grantham. Then he set his jaw, clearly waiting for the anticipated critical response.
Conrad glanced over at Noreen.
The tension in Press’s tiny apartment in the South Yarra neighborhood of Melbourne was palpable.
Conrad turned back to speak. “They all sound like top-notch schools. And they will certainly be lucky to have someone of your caliber.”
“Thank you, sir,” Press said, stunned.
There was a collected exhale of breath in the apartment, during which barking could be heard from the other end of the conversation.
“Is that Roxie I hear?” Vic asked.
“You bet.” Noreen turned to Conrad. “Maybe you could get them to come in so Vic and Mimi can see them and say hello.” She watched as Conrad rose at her request, then to her computer screen, she said, “I invited Basia and Tommy over to swim in the pool. It’s so hot today. Naturally, Brigid insisted that Roxie come along, too. Actually, your sister’s been a godsend, Vic. She’s a wonderful babysitter, which has really helped me out, especially in the summer heat.”
The sound of high-pitched chatter and dog scrambling grew louder as the others came into the kitchen.
Brigid plopped, wet bathing suit and all, on a stool. “Hey, you guys? It’s me,” she announced.
“Hey, squirt,” Press called out. He pulled Mimi over and had her lean down to be in the picture, too. “You look like you’re having a good ti
me. But how about you let your mom move the computer down so that Vic can see Roxie? I know he misses her.”
“I miss her,” Mimi added.
“Roxie, how you doing, girl?” Vic cooed.
There was a brief period of voices calling the dog and the screen moving this way and that. Finally, Basia poked her head into view. “Sorry, Vic, she’s scared witless of the computer. Why don’t I take a picture of her with my phone and I’ll email it to you—that is, if she’ll let me.”
Vic nodded. “It’s worth a try. Anyway, it sounds as if she’s getting lots of attention. Tell me. Have you started your lessons at Juilliard yet?”
Basia shook her head. “Not until after Labor Day. I still can’t believe I’ll be studying with the head of the violin program. It’ll be a juggling act for sure—going into Manhattan two nights a week and still taking courses at Rutgers and waitressing. I gotta admit. I’m scared but excited. Real excited.”
Vic frowned. “What did I tell you about the waitressing? I’m happy to help out. If you need money for child care…”
Basia held up her hand. “No, Vic, you know where I stand. Besides, Joe is already turning into a reliable babysitter.”
“Joe? Not our Joe?”
“I know. Who would have thought it? I guess we all learn to rise to the occasion when circumstances demand it.”
Mimi couldn’t help thinking that that statement just about summed up her topsy-turvy life—in a good way. And if she weren’t careful, she’d start blubbering. And there was no way that was going to happen. “Listen, it may be morning in Grantham, but it’s late at night here. Maybe it’s time to say goodbye, then? We’ll be seeing you in less than a week anyway.”
“We can’t wait,” Conrad answered from his end.
And then everyone waved goodbye, including Mimi, who was leaning over between her brother and Vic.
“Hey, something’s flashing on Mimi’s hand,” Brigid blurted out just before Press ended the connection.
Press let out a sigh. “Well, nothing like a family chat to dry out the throat. Can I get you a cleansing ale, Vic? Mimi?” He rose from the chair and made his way to the kitchen.
Vic held up a finger. “Why not?”
Mimi shook her head. “Not for me, thanks.” She took over the chair that Press had vacated—he had only two in his sparsely furnished rental. Nothing decorated the walls except for a mounted butterfly in a black frame. A snapshot of Amara was tucked into a bottom corner.
Mimi rested her right hand on her left and admired her new engagement ring. Mike Wilson, a local Melbourne jeweler designed irresistibly elegant pieces with the most beautiful Argyle diamonds. “It’s a beautiful souvenir of our Australian travels.”
She shifted her hand back and forth to enjoy the way the canary-yellow diamond glinted in a delicate circle of flawless white diamonds.
Vic took her hands in his. “It’s more than a souvenir. It’s a keepsake—for life.”
Mimi studied their joined hands. She smiled—from the heart. “You’re right. But, you know, the ring really isn’t what’s important.”
Vic brought her hand closer to study it. “Does that mean I can return it and get my money back?”
Mimi snatched her hand back. “No way.” Then she smiled. “What I was about to say before someone interrupted me—” she glared at him, but couldn’t really muster much irritation “—is that the important thing, the really important thing, is the company you keep—for life.”
* * * * *
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CHAPTER ONE
WHEN JESSICA TAYLOR lost her virginity three months and six guys ago—after fiercely guarding it for fifteen years—she’d been stone-cold sober.
She hadn’t made that mistake again.
Her stomach rolled. From the Jack Daniel’s, she assured herself. She should’ve stuck with beer. It always gave her a nice, mellow buzz without making her want to puke. Mostly because she knew her limit. Whiskey was a new beast, one she hadn’t figured out her tolerance to yet.
But Nate had been so sweet when she’d arrived at the party a few hours ago, teasing her into trying J.D. and Diet Coke, making sure her glass was always full, adding more soda when she choked, her eyes watering at the first taste.
Yeah, he was a real prince.
A cold sweat broke out along her hairline. Her stomach churned again. Because of the alcohol. It had nothing to do with her being on her back in the middle of the freaking woods.
She stared up at the moon peeking through the branches of the trees and pretended she was somewhere else, anywhere else, doing anything except what she was doing. That she wasn’t wasted—yet again. And that Nate Berry, with his floppy, pop-star hair and tight circle of friends, really liked her. Cared about her. That he wasn’t using her.
That she wasn’t letting him use her.
Her skin grew clammy. Prickled with the cold. Nate’s fingers clenched her hips, his face pressed against her neck. He was just another boy. And this was just another meaningless, drunken hookup in what was quickly becoming a long line of meaningless, drunken hookups.
Tears stung the backs of her eyelids and she squeezed her eyes shut. No. No feeling sorry for herself. She had every right to have sex with whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. It was her body after all. Her choice to give it to some guy or not.
She was in control.
Her back and butt scraped against the rough earth. Her neck was stretched back, her hair caught between the crown of her head and the ground, pulling painfully each time he moved. She just wanted it to be over. Wanted to pretend it had never happened in the first place. Just like all the other times.
Clutching his arms, she lifted her hips to keep from getting the mother of all brush burns, to stop the contents of her stomach from sloshing. She inhaled deeply, breathed in the scent of Nate’s cologne and the pungent smell from the bonfire in the clearing outside the trees. His grip tightened, his nails digging into her skin as he groaned hoarsely and shuddered then finally—finally—stilled.
Thank God.
He collapsed on top of her, surprisingly heavy for a guy who looked as if he’d never heard of carbs, let alone ate any. His heart beat frantically against her chest, his breath hot and ragged against her shoulder. They had connected in the most elemental way. And still she felt alone. Always alone.
Her throat closed. Without a word, without a kiss or a murmured endearment or even an outright lie about how fantastic it’d been, how fantastic she was, Nate climbed to his feet. He turned his back and adjusted his clothes.
The cool night air washed over her bare skin. She shivered but couldn’t find the energy or the care to cover herself. After she’d lost her virginity to a smooth-talking college freshman, she’d stopped believing guys’ lines. Had quickly learned they’d do and say anything to get into a girl’s pants.
Yeah, she’d learned. But she hadn’t stopped hoping, couldn’t stop wishing that each time would be different. That, when it was all over, the guy she’d been with would think she was…special. Instead, once she gave them what they wanted, they all thought she was trash.
She was starting to wonder if they were right.
As she yanked up her jeans, shouts of excitement from the party still going strong reac
hed them. The bonfire illuminated the colorful graffiti on the huge rocks that formed a barrier between the woods and what passed for civilization around here. Flames shot high into the air—probably from someone tossing gasoline onto the fire.
What a bunch of idiots.
“Come on,” Nate said, facing her as he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “Let’s go. Sounds like the party’s getting wicked wild.”
Jess snorted. “Yeah.” She lurched to her feet and swayed. He held out a hand to steady her but she slapped him away. She didn’t want him touching her again. “I’m sure it’s a crazy wild time,” she continued, her words slurring. “At least by this town’s standards.”
“Mystic Point not good enough for you?”
Okay, so she’d pissed him off, either with her comment or her slap. Good.
She rolled her eyes—and immediately wished she hadn’t when she almost tipped over. “Relax. God, why is everyone so defensive about this place?”
“Maybe we don’t like outsiders slamming our town.”
Outsider. That was her. And she was glad. She didn’t want to belong here. She just wanted to go home.
“There’s a whole big world out there,” she said, waving her arms. “Places where parties are held in actual houses instead of in the middle of nowhere surrounded by some stupid rocks.”
She’d much preferred last week’s party at the secluded part of the beach. The one and only thing she liked about Mystic Point was its proximity to the water. She loved the sound of the waves crashing on shore, the smell of salt water, the power of the ocean. But word had spread that the local cops had gotten wind of the underage drinking going on there and were going to increase their patrols of that area.
Which is how she ended up at some old quarry at the edge of town.
“If you hate it here so much, why don’t you go back to Boston?” Nate’s tone was snide, superior, as if he knew damn well why she was stuck here.
He thought he was better than her because he had a normal family, a mom who didn’t spend all her time so strung out she barely remembered she even had a kid. A dad who not only acknowledged him, but spent time with him.
The Company You Keep Page 26
