“Stay away from my son, Marty.” Liam fought to control his anger, although he’d seen red when he spotted Marty talking to Jack.
“Stay away? Hell, this is exactly what we’ve needed to jump-start your career, man.” Marty slapped one hand on the arm of the leather sofa. “At first, I thought this could be a real mess. What does this chick want after all these years? More money? Publicity for her little photography business? But then I saw the kid play. What a fan-fucking-tastic story!” His eyes gleamed in the harsh fluorescent light overhead. “Let me run with it. We’ll set up some interviews—maybe Fresh Air or All Things Considered. Put you on to tell the story of finding your long-lost son, and then bring the kid in and let him play. If it hits on NPR, we might get a shot at ET or the Today Show. The European press will go wild over it.” He pulled out his smart phone and began tapping the screen, still talking a mile a minute. “We could have him onstage at Town Hall by the end of summer and Carnegie Hall by Christmas with you conducting the orchestra behind him. Is that perfect or what?”
Liam wavered between punching the man’s lights out and bursting into hysterical laughter. He shook his head as he met Will’s gaze. “Do you believe this guy?”
“Nope.” Will sauntered into the office to stand shoulder to shoulder with Liam and gave him a reassuring smile.
“I don’t think a DNA test is necessary.” Marty glanced up from his phone. “No doubt in my mind the kid is yours. Hell, he’s a fuckin’ clone.”
“Marty, what part of ‘you’re fired’ do you not understand?” Liam asked. “Your services are no longer required here. As a matter of fact, meet my new agent.” He jerked a thumb at Will.
“New agent?” Marty’s face reddened, but he kept his tone even. “Liam, come on. We’ve had too many years together to just bag it. What’s she been telling you?”
“The truth, which is more than I’ve ever gotten from you.”
Marty made a fist before releasing it with a visible effort. “Jesus Christ, you’d known her for a week. She was gonna drag you down, man. She’d have destroyed everything I... we’d started. You’d have gone nowhere.”
“This isn’t about what happened with Carrie and you know it. It’s about you having no idea who I am!” Finger stabbing the air, Liam glowered at him. “You’ve been making money hand over fist with this maestro-playboy crap. I told you years ago it wasn’t me, but you refused to listen.”
“Bullshit!” Marty exploded. “I suppose you haven’t enjoyed the money? Or the attention?” His voice grew even more caustic. “So what if I profited from it? We all made a pile of money.” He threw Will a pointed glare. “Look how far you’ve come. If it weren’t for me, you’d probably be assistant director of music at some high school in the fucking Yukon. Where would you be now if you’d gotten tangled up with that little nobody?”
“I’d have been with my wife and son.” Liam’s voice was quiet even though inside he was seething. “Carrie was different. You knew she was special and that scared the hell out of you. So you thought you had to lie to her... and to me. You were afraid she’d fuck up what you had going. We had different agendas, Marty. More different than I ever imagined. Today just reinforces it.”
Brushing imaginary lint from his impeccable suit jacket, Marty stood up. “Come on, Maestro. Convince me that what I did for your career wasn’t exactly what you wanted. The money, the parties, the tours. TV appearances, celebrity... the women. You’ve just suffered through that because you’d lost your one true love. And all you had left was the music.” He snorted with derision. “What a load of crap.”
“I was a fool for too many years.” Liam clenched his fists, battling the urge to go after Marty. “I let you run me because all I wanted to do was conduct, and you made that happen. Okay, I appreciate that. But I told you years ago, I was done with the games. Now it’s really over. I want you out.”
“Liam, you’ve gotta stop thinking with your dick. You can’t stay up here and play house.” Marty voice rose about half an octave. “Your career’s headed straight for the shitter, and Brody’s clueless about how to handle you.”
“Excuse me?” Will protested. “I’ve been on the road with him for the last few years while you’ve been lounging on a beach in LA.”
“Big fuckin’ deal.” Marty dismissed him with a brusque wave. “I built this career and by God, you’re not going to destroy it.”
“You no longer have any say in what happens to my career, so just get out.” Liam pointed to the door.
Marty stared at him for a long moment, then stalked across the room. Stopping at the door, he turned around. “We’re not done, pal.”
“Yes, we are.” Liam felt his temper rise even further. “And Marty, stay the fuck away from my son, or I’ll slap a restraining order on you so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”
TWENTY-ONE
Several days later, Carrie came home for lunch to find Jack at his grandmother’s baby grand, entertaining Will and Tony. The only thing missing from the picture was Liam, but he was in Traverse City with the TSO. With Jack taking a break from his duties at Lawson to spend some time getting to know his father, the past few days had been filled with so much activity, she never knew who or what to expect when she walked in her apartment.
Her heart rose in her throat as she stood discreetly at the screen door, watching her son’s fingers dance across the keys of the piano while Will busily tapped the screen of his phone.
Her stomach clenched.
They already know he’s talented. Keep an open mind. Trust them as Liam trusts them.
Will surely wouldn’t exploit his dear friend’s only child.
Perhaps not deliberately, but now he’s a promoter of talent. That’s his job. Is he seeing dollar signs?
Swallowing the tiny bud of fear, she waited for Jack to finish the Chopin Mazurka before she pulled open the screen door and joined in the two men’s applause. “Bravo!”
Will grinned as he set the phone on the table and stood. “This is one incredible kid, Carrie.”
“He’s great!” Tony added while Jack beamed shyly.
“He’s his father’s son.” She smiled, going over to put her hands on Jack’s shoulders.
“It’s more than that,” Will replied. “His talent is unique, far and away more than—” He stopped at Carrie’s warning look.
“Honey?” Carrie tousled Jack’s hair. “Could you please run up to Aunt Margie’s and grab the produce she got us at the farm stand this morning? I thought I’d make BLTs for lunch. Tony, Will—stay and eat lunch with us?”
“Sure, Mom.” Jack jumped up from the piano bench and headed out.
Tony glanced from Carrie to Will. “I have a fruit salad and sauvignon sauce downstairs. How ’bout we add it to our lunch?” At her nod, he followed Jack out the door. “Be right back.”
Will waited for them to get down the stairs before he crossed over to Carrie standing next to the piano. “What’s up?” He dipped his blond head to peer into her eyes. “Have we got a problem?”
“No, we don’t,” she replied. “Not yet. But I don’t want you making comparisons between Liam and Jack. Especially not in front of Jack.”
“That’s ridiculous. Even Liam says the kid is better on piano than he ever thought of being. Do you think Jack’s not aware of that fact himself? What’s really going on here?”
Lowering her eyes from Will’s piercing gaze, she ran her fingers idly over the piano keys.
“You came in here glaring at me like I was some kind of child molester or some—” Realization lit his expression. “My God, you think I’m going to try to capitalize on Jack’s talent, don’t you?”
She glanced up, not even trying to hide her fear. “It would be a wonderful promotional gimmick, wouldn’t it? Especially for a brand new agent just getting started? Maestro Reilly and his newfound prodigy son?”
He sighed and gave her a small frown. “You know what? I’ve been with Liam for over six years—by his side for
every performance in every city, every lonely night on the road, and every argument with Marty about what Liam was and was not willing to do to further his career. I may have taken over Marty’s job, but I am not Marty.” His tone was kind, but his expression was dead serious. “We’re friends first. I would never do anything that might hurt Liam or anyone he cares about. Got it?”
They stared at one another for a long moment.
Finally, she broke eye contact, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little overprotective. I have no idea what’s in store for us now. When I saw you in here watching him play, I–I kinda flipped out.”
“I’d be lying if I told you that the possibilities for Jack’s own career haven’t crossed my mind.” He shook his head. “But he’s just a kid. You and Liam have to make the decisions about that, not me. I told you before, nobody intends to take his childhood away from him.”
“I know.”
She walked slowly to the kitchen and he followed her. His eyes were on her, silently observing as she took plates from the cupboard and dug sandwich makings out of the refrigerator. She placed a griddle on the stove and laid strips of bacon on it.
He leaned against the bar. “Keep in mind, though, your son’s bound for the stage. The question isn’t will he play Carnegie Hall, it’s when will he play Carnegie Hall. He’s an extraordinary talent. Like your mother. He’s gonna be in the limelight, and it won’t have anything to do with being Liam’s son.”
“This isn’t like... like Mick Jagger suddenly discovering he has a son, is it?” She meant the words to be wry, but they came out a little more like desperate. “We’re not going to constantly be in a fishbowl, are we?” She poured iced tea into four glasses as the bacon began to sizzle.
“Well, it’s a fishbowl of sorts. Liam’s a celebrity—those are the facts.” Settling down on a bar stool, he accepted the glass of iced tea she offered.
“Yeah, I’ve figured that out.”
“Come on, Carrie, I think you’re blowing this way out of proportion. Most people wouldn’t know a symphony conductor if he walked up and hit them with his baton. Only his own public is curious about him. They’re going to be even more curious now.” Will shrugged with a grin. “There’s nothing wrong with getting attention and admiration for being good at what you do. That’s all this is. Liam keeps it in perspective. He really does. Things are going to be different, but stop expecting the worst. It could be fun, ya know?” He gave her a wink as Jack came clattering up the stairs.
* * * *
“Liam! Hey, Liam!” Jack’s voice carried down the beach.
Carrie kept an eye on him as he stood waist-deep in the cold water of Lake Michigan, waving frantically at his father who was swimming several yards out past the sandbar.
“They’re getting good now. Come on,” the boy shouted. He was teaching Liam how to body surf in the waves, amazed that there was anything at all that Liam didn’t know how to do. They’d been at it for about an hour, and Liam had spent more time under the water than riding on top of it.
Although she’d been in the lake earlier, she now sat on the beach, her royal blue tank suit drying in the warm breeze. Liam and Jack rode a small wave close to shore, laughing and shouting to one another. She couldn’t help chuckling as Liam ended up underwater again, but they swam back out to catch another one. Even after only a few days, anyone would assume they’d always been together. They seemed as comfortable with one another as any father and son could be.
Glancing down at her arms and then up at the sun, she dropped the bottle of SPF30 into her beach bag. There was no more need for sunscreen. She’d have to think about supper soon, but instead of calling out, she watched them for a few more minutes. Their wet hair gleamed in the sun, Jack’s young body a coltish duplicate of Liam’s mature brawny frame. With her book at her side, she laid back on the beach towel, closing her eyes against the late afternoon glare.
Maybe a few minutes longer.
The three of them had spent time together every day, and Jack and Liam were practically inseparable. While Carrie took senior pictures, Jack went to Traverse City with his father to rehearse the upcoming benefit concert. Every evening, he bounded home full of enthusiasm for the orchestra and the music. They shared meals, at the apartment or at Margie and Noah’s or on Liam’s boat. Liam fit into their little family unit like the missing piece of a puzzle.
Jack followed him around like an eager puppy, inundating him with questions, and it seemed as if Liam asked Jack just as many about his own life there in Willow Bay. They were learning to know each other, feeling their way, and each had insatiable curiosity about the other. Neither of them appeared to be looking forward to Jack’s return to camp.
Jack delighted in taking Liam, Will, and Tony on what he referred to as “field trips,” including canoeing down the Platte River one afternoon, climbing the rocks at Willow Point Lighthouse, and taking the Penguin out for an early morning sail. Will and Tony gave Jack free rein on the boat, treating him like one of the guys.
In spite of Will’s reassurances, another tiny seed of doubt started to take root as she watched how fascinated Jack was with Liam’s career. She tried to quell it, but the concern niggled in the back of her mind as she lay on the beach. Raising her head, her gaze followed Jack and Liam riding the waves. They were out past the sand bar. Seeing them play together eased her doubts a bit, so she smiled and went back to sunbathing.
A shadow blocked out the late afternoon sun. When she opened her eyes, she expected to see clouds coming in from the west. Hadn’t the weather forecast predicted rain for tonight? Instead she saw a pair of elegant Italian loafers and, as her eyes traveled upward, an expensive designer suit.
Sitting up, she shook her hair free of sand to rise and pull on her terry cover-up. The man was darkly handsome, his tie perfectly knotted, his white shirt crisp. He pulled off a pair of mirrored sunglasses—his eyes were the truest sapphire blue she’d ever seen, but they glinted icily at her.
“Are you lost?” she asked, giving him a friendly smile. “Are you looking for the bait shop?”
“No, I’m not lost.” The man’s eyed her up and down, appraising and dismissing her with one glance. “And I do believe I’ve found the bait.”
A sudden chill in the pit of her stomach telegraphed trouble, and she knew instinctively whom she faced. “Marty Justice. I’ll be dammed.”
“Carrie Halligan, as I live and breathe.” Marty’s voice was as cold as his eyes. “Frankly, I’m a little disappointed. I guess I wasn’t expecting the paragon of virtue Liam’s been pining after for so many years to be a dumpy little hausfrau.”
The full frontal assault set her back on her heels. When she caught her breath, she spoke as evenly as she could. “C–can I get Liam for you?”
“No, thanks.” He lifted one elegant loafer out of the sand and shook it. “I’ll wait for him on the boat. Send him up when he’s done... playing.” He turned away, started toward the marina, but ambled back to gaze at her coolly for a moment. “Don’t think you’ve won any battles here, lady. You’ll never fit into his life. He pulls this shit all the time. Gets wrapped up in playing out one fantasy or another.” He eyed her before relentlessly continuing the attack. “This time it’s the daddy fantasy and it won’t end any differently. Being on a podium is his life. He may think he wants you and the boy now, but in a few months, he’ll be bored with you and ready to move on, just like with every other piece of ass he picks up.”
Stepping closer, he invaded her space.
Carrie moved back, but he continued in the same distant, icy tone. “Do yourself a favor, Carrie. Take your son and get the hell out. This isn’t going to work now any more than it would have worked the first time. Let Liam get back onstage where he belongs.” He stared at her, his tone growing even more calculating. “I can make it worth your while… but you already know that, don’t you?”
With that, he strode off across the sand.
* * * *
Liam a
nd Jack dove together into the waves, letting the momentum of the water carry them closer to the beach. Liam struck back out toward the sand bar, leaving Jack standing in the shallows at the shore.
“Liam.”
Liam thought he heard his name as he swam away, but when he glanced back, Jack wasn’t facing him.
There it was again, louder. Jack’s voice calling, “Liam. Dad.”
Splashing as he rolled over mid-stroke, he searched in the direction of the voice.
Dad? Jack called me Dad?
But the boy was pointing to the beach where Carrie stood listening, her head bent down, her arms folded across her waist. The man talking to her whirled suddenly and hurried away.
Jack glanced over his shoulder as Liam swam up next to him. “Who’s the suit with Mom?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward the beach.
Liam thrust his fingers through his wet hair, brushing it out of his face. “Oh, dammit,” he muttered. “Come on, Jack, let’s go in.”
“Who is he, Dad?”
At the word, Liam’s heart soared as they headed toward Carrie, in spite of the anger that had started burning in him at the sight of Marty Justice striding down the beach. “Just someone I used to know,” he replied more brusquely than he intended. “Head back home. I’ll take care of it.”
Liam kept an eye on Marty disappearing in the distance.
Carrie began folding beach towels, snapping them out in front of her.
He jogged to her while Jack lagged behind.
“You okay?” He picked up a towel from the short pile she’d accumulated and ran it over his hair and face.
She gave him a tight smile. “Me? I’m fine.” She leaned down to stuff sunglasses, her book, and Jack’s watch into her tote.
“I can’t believe he showed up here after I’d warned him to stay away.” He glanced back at Jack, who stood a few yards away watching them warily.
Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay) Page 15
