by Sey, Susan
James went to the desk and withdrew a large rectangular envelope. He caught Bel’s eye and nodded her toward the settee beside Vivi.
Everything in her resisted but she trusted James so she sat. Audrey and Annie took up posts behind the couch like foot soldiers while Drew and Ford manned the doors. She wondered what the hell was going on.
James sent Vivi a grave smile. “I’m glad you stopped by, Vivi.”
“Bel’s my daughter,” Vivi whispered. She reached out as if to touch Bel’s knee. Bel gave that hand a stony glance and it fluttered weakly back to her mother’s lap. “I needed to be here for her.” Her lashes drooped. “Whether I was welcome or not.”
“How commendable.”
“Oh, you’re sweet.” Vivi’s dimples winked sadly. “But it’s a mother’s duty to put her child first, and I—”
“So true.” James drew several sheets of paper from the envelope and came around the desk to hand them to Vivi. “I wonder, then, where that conviction was the whole time Bel was growing up.”
“Excuse me?” She peered at the papers, confusion knitting her brow. “What are these?”
“Belinda’s school records.” He leaned back against the edge of the desk and folded his arms. “That’s fourth grade you’re looking at. Five separate schools in the one year alone. Four of the schools were in the U.S.—New York, Seattle, DC and then, let’s see, LA, was it?—and the fifth was in Switzerland.”
“I was a single mother.” Vivi blinked bravely. “I had to provide—”
“I’ve seen your tax returns, Ms. Pietrantoni.” James pinned Vivi with a cool look. “You have an impressive trust fund. And while I’ll admit you were a mother—biologically speaking, at least—you were hardly ever single. Each of these moves corresponds exactly with the start or end of a high-profile romance. Of which you’ve had more than a few.” James’ smile was distinctly unfriendly. “It appears that you’re addicted to love, Vivi.”
Drew snorted out a laugh. “She’s so fine, there’s no telling where the money went.” Even Bel turned to blink at him. He grinned. “Robert Palmer. You don’t know that one? “Addicted to Love?” Video of the eighties, man. It was...” He cleared his throat. “I’ll stop now.”
“Three more schools in fifth grade,” James went on. “Only two in the sixth. Not bad. Then seventh grade happened.”
Bel’s stomach went cold and Vivi looked away. “I gather that’s supposed to mean something to me?”
“That’s the year you decided to drop Bel off with your parents for a few months while you followed your race car driver boyfriend all over Europe.”
“She needed to be in school,” Vivi said airily. “I should put my life on hold in order to supervise algebra homework?”
“Your father died of a massive stroke two months after Bel moved in, and your mother overdosed on sleeping pills two days after that. It was ruled accidental, of course.”
“I know when and how my parents died, Mr. Blake. Thank you for bringing up the memories.”
“So you should also remember that it took the executors of your parents’ estate six weeks to even determine your whereabouts. It took another three weeks for you to wrap up your European vacation and head home. Nine weeks, Ms. Pietrantoni. Did you ever wonder where Bel was during this time? Who was caring for her?”
Bel stared at James. He knew. All this time, he’d known?
Vivi lifted a languid shoulder. “My parents were extremely well-off, Mr. Blake. I assumed there was a nanny or a maid—”
“She was made a ward of the state,” James said, and Bel couldn’t suppress the flinch. Even after all these years, she couldn’t suppress the flinch. Annie’s hand came gently to her shoulder, then Audrey’s to the other. “She spent nine weeks in Juvenile Hall—eating, sleeping, learning, and bathing with troubled, unstable and potentially violent girls while you jetted around Europe with your boyfriend.”
“I came for her,” Vivi said petulantly. “I did come for her.”
“Eventually, yes.” James took the stack of papers from Vivi’s unresisting fingers. “And cooperated fully when she petitioned to become a legally emancipated minor at age sixteen.”
“Belinda’s always had a strong mind. She knew what she wanted. Who was I to—”
“Her mother,” James spat, fury finally snapping his control, and Bel blinked. She’d seen him slip his civilized skin a time or two, but never on her behalf. This was...revelatory. And hot. He leaned down into her mother’s face, rage pumping off him with almost tangible heat. Bel felt warm for the first time in weeks. “You were her mother.”
But Vivi didn’t shrink. Bel knew she wouldn’t. She watched as Vivi latched onto his anger, drinking it in like a woman dying of thirst. She leaned right back into his face, greed and gratification sparkling in her eyes.
“That’s right. I was. I am her mother, and I always will be.”
“James, don’t.” Bel watched with dull disgust as her mother all but bloomed under the attention. “You’re just giving her what she wants.” She sat back, weary beyond description. “She’s nothing but a junkie looking for a fix.”
“A junkie!” Vivi sounded genuinely outraged at that one but Bel didn’t even look at her.
“I know,” James said grimly. He ignored Vivi, too. “It took me a bit but I figured it out. The endless string of troubled relationships, the constant moving around, the pathological selfishness. Her decision to ambush you at the biggest, most important event of your career in the name of motherly duty, and in a very flattering period costume.” His lips twisted. “I didn’t figure she could possibly resist anything so juicy as a funeral, so I came prepared.”
“To what?”
“To cut her off. She’s not your family anymore.” He shifted his gaze back to Vivi. “I am.” He glanced around the room. “We are.”
Vivi smiled. “You don’t choose your family, Mr. Blake.”
“Of course you do.” James eased forward until his shadow fell across Vivi’s lap. “Your actions choose for you, every single day. That’s why you’re nothing to Bel anymore. She kicked you to the curb when she was sixteen, and I have nothing but admiration for the wisdom it took to see you for the parasite you are. For the courage to do something about it.”
A splash of hectic color glowed at Vivi’s cheekbones but her eyes were murderously cold. “I’m getting bored of this conversation, Mr. Blake.”
“Yes, it’s clear you’re bored easily and often. My mother used to say it was a sign of poor intellectual development. Smart people are rarely bored. But as I have no desire to tax your limited attention span, I’ll get right down to business.” He put the papers back in her hand. “Have a look at those, Vivi.”
Vivi frowned down on them.
“That right there is a copy of Bel’s academic record. You’ve also got a transcript of her emancipation hearing. Last in the stack, though? Those are written evaluations of your psyche by, oh, half a dozen or so of the country’s most well-respected psychiatrists.” He smiled coldly. “As it turns out, you’re a narcissistic sociopath, Vivi. Not a well woman. And if you ever again show your face on this property or at a public event Bel or I are attending, you’ll see the inside of a mental institution before you can say But I’m not crazy.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’d recommend moving back overseas, myself. Because you may not believe this, but I’m a likeable guy. I have a lot of friends. Famous friends. Rich friends. The kind of friends gossip columnists really like. The kind they can’t make a living without, actually. All of whom have agreed to blackball any journalist who gives you so much as a blog mention.” He leaned forward, his face cold and hard. “You understand what I’m saying here, Vivi?”
“I understand that coming here was a colossal mistake.” Vivi’s lips were a quivering line. “One I won’t be repeating.” She turned to Bel, her face pale and tragic, her eyes blazing with fury. “I only ever wanted to love you, Belinda. How you turned into such a vindictive,
ungrateful—”
“Finish that thought and every poor bastard who looks at you twice gets a copy of what’s in your hands.”
Vivi’s voice cut out abruptly.
“I can ruin you, Vivi. Happy to do it, in fact. So you’ll want to step right carefully there.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, tipped her nose into the air and sailed toward the exit. Drew stepped aside and helpfully pulled open the door for her. The crowd parted before her like the Red Sea and then she was gone.
Bel stood up on shaking legs. She tipped her head and eyed James like she’d never seen him before. She let a beat of ringing silence pass. He shifted uncomfortably.
“You hacked into my school records,” she said finally.
Drew raised his hand like an eager pupil. “No, that was me.”
“It was all of us.” James tried a smile. “But it was sort of an accident, if it helps. We were combing the internet for old addresses after you took off and sort of...stumbled across some stuff.”
“Your court records, too.” Drew shook his head. “The great State of Virginia really ought to look into better computer security.”
“I see,” Bel murmured, and Ford excused himself to take a phone call that she suspected didn’t exist. Self-incrimination made him nervous.
James sank back onto the desk behind him. He gripped the edge at his hips and stared at his shoes. “Listen, I’m sorry if I stepped on your toes, or embarrassed you or anything, but I underestimated Vivi once before and she almost destroyed us. And, worse, she hurt you.” He looked up abruptly and what she saw blazing in his eyes had her sucking in a sharp breath. “And I will never let that happen again. Do you hear me? So I’m sorry if I hung out your dirty laundry or whatever but don’t ask me to apologize for going to war, because I won’t. I’d do it again tomorrow. Five minutes from now. Whenever I need to. I—”
“I wasn’t going to.” She stepped forward on wobbly legs. “God, James, I wasn’t going to. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, I never expected—” She twitched a shoulder and groped for words to describe what she’d just experienced.
“Never expected what?” he asked softly.
“To face the enemy with an army at my back,” she said finally. “No, not an army. A family.” She reached a trembling hand to him while wonder blew sweet and wild inside her. “Thank you. James, I—”
He came off the desk with the speed and deadly grace that justified everything the DC Statesmen paid him. Before she had any idea he was even planning a move, his arms were around her, banded so tightly she could hardly breathe. Her throat was too tight for breathing anyway so she didn’t bother trying. She just threw her arms around him and held on.
“You’re mine now, Bel.” He murmured it into her hair, low and fierce. “You’re not hers, you’re mine. I’m your family, I’m your home, I’m your port in the fucking storm or whatever. Your fight is my fight, Bel.”
“What we have, we share?” She gave a watery laugh. “Even my crazy mom?”
“Yeah.” He cupped her shoulders in both hands and drew back to glare at her. “So get used to it.”
She could do that.
“Hey, James?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He didn’t answer. He just hauled her up onto her toes and kissed her until her toes curled inside her sensible black pumps and her greedy hands had wrinkled the hell out of the crisp white shirt she’d ironed just that afternoon.
She could, she thought vaguely, get used to this, too. But she hoped she never did.
EPILOGUE
Will was standing on the front porch of the Annex—had been for five minutes, probably—when the door opened of its own accord and Bel’s mom stalked out. Well. That probably wasn’t good. He ought to get in there. He eyed the door Vivi had left conveniently open.
Go on, you cowardly goat fucker. It was Bob’s voice in his head, gravelly and amused. Get your ass in there.
Will sighed. Upon his death, Bob had given Will his business, a month to dry out, and now—Jesus—his voice as a conscience. Evidently Bob had been stone-cold serious about that haunting-your-lazy-ass-into-eternity thing.
Nice.
It’s not going to be easier in another five minutes, Nancy. Grow a pair, why don’t you? Just face her and get it over with.
Will wondered if Bob was talking about Bel or Audrey. Because God knew he hadn’t left either relationship in precisely good repair. He was too sober now to go around laying fat wet ones on unwilling women—and thank Christ for that—but sobriety wasn’t a Get Out Of Jail Free card. Or so he’d been told, and at length. It had been a long thirty days. As a result, however, he accepted that he had a couple well deserved face-slappings coming his way, and James owed him a solid punch. He also accepted that he would have to take them like a man.
Would they all swing on him at once, he wondered? Line up? Take turns? Here in front of the crowd, or maybe in private?
You’re right. This is some hard shit. Let’s forget it and go get a facial.
Will almost smiled at that one. He and Bob hadn’t been close but he’d appreciated the guy.
Or a drink.
Ouch. Below the belt, Bob. Because, Jesus, that was exactly what he wanted.
Are you going to do your job or not?
Yeah. He was going to do his damn job. He stepped through the open front door and pulled it shut behind him. He was disgusted to discover his hands weren’t precisely steady on the knob.
Almost immediately, they were on him. Bob’s people. Mourners, funeral goers, whatever the hell you called the black-draped crowds that cooed over caskets like morbid birds. He suppressed a shudder—last funeral he’d endured had been his parents’—and found himself shaking sympathetic hands, accepting shoulder pats and exchanging cheek-pecks.
It’s not that hard when you’re not being a dick.
Thanks, Bob. I’ll remember that.
“Hey, listen.” He grabbed the nearest shoulder. He had no idea who it belonged to, though the guy seized his hand and shook it like a fucking pump handle. “Any idea where Bel and James are?”
Seconds later, he was standing outside the closed study doors. Rumor had it they were all in here. James, Bel, Drew, Ford and Annie. And Audrey. The whole package, God help him. He wiped clammy palms down the seams of his black suit—it was a funeral, after all, and he wasn’t a total asshole—and let himself quietly into the study.
Bel and James were in front of the desk, locked in a steamy embrace just this side of get-a-room territory. The rest of his family stood around gazing at them with fond, damp eyes. He wondered what he’d missed. A showdown with Vivi? A marriage proposal?
Good God, marriage. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants?
His heart ached, just a little, faint and bittersweet. James—the sunny, funny middle child who skated through life with fucking rainbows on his feet—was getting married. Manning up. Growing up.
A sharp pang of envy came next. But why? Because James had grown up and left him behind? Or because James had lucked into a woman who smelled like sugar cookies and sported the deepest, sweetest dimples Will had ever seen? A woman who looked at James and all his shit and saw somebody worth loving?
It was possible that a sigh escaped him. Small and, yes, pathetic. It couldn’t have been more than a breath of sound but it was enough. Audrey saw him first. He knew the instant she registered his presence. Her spine went instantly and hostilely stiff. She turned slowly, regally, nostrils flared like she smelled something off and was about to check her shoe.
He braced himself for the slapping he knew he deserved. He thought about trying a conciliatory smile but Bob said bad idea so he went blank and non-committal.
“Hey, Audrey.”
“Will.” A single, frosty syllable was all she gave him but she didn’t wind up for the slap. That was something.
“Holy shit, Will!” Drew’s eyes went wide, and a grin spread across his thin face that was
equal parts welcome home and this ought to be good. Drew did love a scene. He loped forward and threw a skinny arm around Will’s shoulders. Gave him a solid squeeze and a back thump. He drew back to eye him suspiciously. “You didn’t bust out of rehab, did you?”
“Nah. I graduated.”
“Hey, congrats.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Drew released him, and Will absently accepted similar greetings from Ford and Annie. Nothing from Audrey but he’d already gotten more than he expected there. No, he had his sights on James and Bel now.
They stood at the desk, still loosely wrapped in each others’ arms. Will approached them slowly, warily. Giving them plenty of time for the wind up if they were planning to take their shots. James met his eyes, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. Not that it meant anything, Will told himself, sternly squashing a flare of hope. James was always right next to a smile. It was like the pilot light on his native good humor. It didn’t mean Will was welcome here. God knew he hadn’t earned any such thing.
Bel straightened slowly. James’ hand fell away from her back and she stepped forward. She looked cool and pretty and grave, not at all like a woman who’d just kissed his brother into a happy, disheveled stupor.
He forced himself to keep walking until he was close enough to touch her. Not that he did. He just wanted her to be able to slap him without reaching for it. He owed her that, didn’t he?
The boy can be taught.
Shut up, Bob.
“Hey, Bel.” He didn’t smile. Didn’t have the stomach to even try. He was exquisitely aware of Audrey, her beauty almost blinding, her eyes cold and watchful on him as he faced Bel’s judgment. He groped for words, any words. Magic, pretty words that would put him at rights with this woman his brother had chosen and he’d wronged. Nothing presented itself—he doubted words that powerful existed, actually—so he just said, “I’m so sorry.”
