“Better than I expected.” Schuyler leaned back in the chair but her face was alight with satisfaction. “It’s pretty clear that Titus jumped into the situation without doing his homework on the Carver Center. When Emily started talking about the K-9 Angelz program and what it meant to the kids, the man looked like he’d eaten a rotten egg. He seemed to believe it was some sort of private school that had billionaires on its board of trustees. But he’s not going to back down now. Too much ego.”
“Damn.” Hope had flashed for a moment.
“Another thing. When Emily said that Shaq might have to be put down since he’d bitten a child, Davina looked horrified and asked Titus if that were true. He spluttered something about the dog only having bitten once and being given a second chance. However, Emily said that even if they didn’t put Shaq to sleep, he’d have to go back to the shelter in the hope of finding another home. Davina wasn’t happy about that.”
“Sounds like no one did their homework.”
“Here’s how I read it. Davina just wants Felicia to get the best medical care possible. Insurance pays for the basic costs but not the fancy stuff like plastic surgery. Titus thought he was getting a high-profile case with a big payout for his client and himself. So he aims for the negligence angle to invoke pain and suffering, which he has to prove by dragging the Carver Center’s reputation through the mud. Now that he knows what the true nature of the center is, he’s afraid that will make him the bad guy instead of the white knight.”
“That gives you some leverage,” Will said.
“Which I already used by subtly suggesting that he not splash this all over the media.” Schuyler smiled the toothy smile of a well-fed shark. “He subtly agreed.”
Will smiled back. “That’s the sister I know and fear.”
Schuyler snorted and stood to refill her glass. She returned to lean her hip against the desk. “I think money would make this all go away. Emily offered to get this hotshot doctor Ben Cavill to examine Felicia, which made Davina very happy. If the center can find a way to pay for the plastic surgery, I think Davina will tell Titus to drop the case. He’ll negotiate up the payout to save face, but he’ll be relieved to get out of this. Problem is that the center’s insurance won’t foot the bill and Emily is adamant that her billionaire fiancé not pitch in, even though he is more than willing to do so.”
“I’ll pay for it,” Will said without hesitation. “Anonymously. Just figure out a way to make it happen.”
“That’s a pretty open-ended offer. We’re talking tens of thousands of dollars at least.” Schuyler gave him a searching look. “I know you can afford it, but why?”
Will tugged at his tie to loosen it. “Does it matter?”
“You’re my brother, so yes.”
“I owe Kyra and this is the only way I can help her.”
“What do you owe her?”
Will met his sister’s gaze. “More than I can give her.”
“You need to be more specific.” Schuyler put down her glass and crossed her arms.
Will forced himself to take a slow sip of scotch. “She wants me to feel something for her that I don’t. I care about her, but not in that way.”
“She’s in love with you and you believe you’re not in love with her.” Schuyler picked up her own drink but swirled the liquid around in the glass. “It’s none of my business, but are you sure?”
“About which part?”
“You’re stalling,” Schuyler said. “Seems to me that you’re going out of your way to help her, which is an indicator of strong feelings on your part.”
Will pushed up out of his chair and stalked over to the window. “Let’s just say that I don’t feel about her the way I did about Petra.”
Schuyler barked out a short laugh. “Considering that your relationship with Petra didn’t survive one trip alone with her, that strikes me as a positive not a negative.”
Will huffed out an irritated sigh. “I’m not an idiot. When things were good between Petra and me, I felt differently.”
“Ah, bro, but half the reason you loved Petra so much was that Mum and Dad approved of her. This was something you could do that made them happy. That created the whole rosy glow.”
“I know how I felt about her,” Will snapped. But his sister’s words seeped into the crevices of his mind, watering the little seeds of doubt Kyra had sown. He’d seen Petra as a sort of orchid, exotic yet familiar, fragile but comfortable.
Whereas Kyra challenged his assumptions about himself, about his world. She made him think. She made him want more.
Schuyler held up her hand in surrender. “If you say so.”
“Goddamnit, Sky, what does that mean?”
“It means I’ve said my piece and now you need to chew on it awhile before you admit that I’m right.” His sister grinned.
“You can be a real jerk, you know.” But Will put no heat in his words.
Schuyler’s grin faded. “Did you know that Petra and Farr are dating?”
A jolt of shock ran through him. “When did that happen?”
“A few days ago. Farr actually called me to ask if I thought it would bother you. I said I thought you’d dance a happy dance. Was I wrong?”
Will rubbed his hand over the back of his head as he considered. “Why the hell didn’t Farr call me?”
“To ask permission to date your ex-fiancée?” Schuyler shook her head. “Put yourself in his shoes.”
“Ex being the operative prefix. I have no claim on Petra anymore.” Relief was his overwhelming reaction. He might not be engaged to Petra, but he’d still felt responsible for her happiness in some odd way. Now Farr had taken on that responsibility. He had a bad moment when he realized that he wouldn’t feel relieved if he found out Farr was dating Kyra. “I didn’t know Farr was interested in her romantically.”
“He was, but she wasn’t. He didn’t want to push it, but something changed recently.”
“I’m just . . . surprised.” He grimaced. “And a little guilty. Right after our split, I said some unkind things about Petra to Farr.” Now that he thought about it, Farr had never agreed with him, just listened in the way a good friend would.
“Farr would expect you to be upset given the situation,” Schuyler said.
“I knew Farr squired Petra around sometimes but I thought it was just a convenience for both of them.” Will shook his head. “Farr and Petra. I’ll be damned.”
“People can surprise you, in ways both good and bad.” Schuyler joined him by the window, cradling her glass in her hands as she scanned the Manhattan skyline. “Are you happy, Will?”
“I’m going to assume that means you’re not,” he said, watching her profile.
“When I get a case like the Carver Center, I realize how little I like corporate law.” Schuyler sighed. “Davina and Emily are both good people who are trying to do the right thing. My challenge is to find a way to help both of them. That’s what I like to do. Not look up obscure, convoluted statutes in order to bury the other side under an avalanche of paperwork.”
“You’d rather be a mediator than a lawyer.”
“I’d rather be a lawyer who makes a real difference in people’s lives.”
“Then do it. You’ve given Dad six years and made it to junior partner, which is more than I did.” Will touched one of the hands she had clenched around the glass. “You don’t owe him any more than that.”
Schuyler turned to face him. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you happy?”
“I know why you’re a good lawyer. You never give up.” Will sipped his scotch as he considered her question. “I accomplished what I set out to do.”
“Which was?” His sister kept her gaze on him.
“Build a business from scratch. Make it a success.” Will gave her a tight smile. “Shove it in Dad’s face when I did.”
“And now what?”
“I’ve got a company to run.” Although he was taking the next afternoon off to attend the K-9 Angelz ado
ption ceremony at the Carver Center. He’d been honored and touched that Isaiah would invite him, but he’d accepted for the least noble of reasons: he hoped to see Kyra there. “What would you think about me teaching ancient history?”
“Teaching? You?” Schuyler’s eyebrows rose, but then she shrugged. “You always loved that stuff. Gods throwing thunderbolts. Greeks fighting Persians. Romans building aqueducts. You used to go on and on about it on school breaks.”
“Was I a dead bore?”
“No, and that’s why you might make a good teacher. I used to ask for more of your stories, remember?”
She had, but he’d always put it down to boredom when they were at home, away from their school friends. Now he felt a sense of possibility.
“Of course, Mum and Dad would hate it,” Schuyler continued. “Which is why you should do it.”
“We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?” Will couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. “Still thinking about our parents’ approval.”
“Mum and Dad are pretty overwhelming personalities,” Schuyler said. “And they care more about how we reflect on them than on what we really want.”
There was a perfunctory knock on the door before it opened and their father strode in. “Hello, Schuyler.”
“Speak of the devil,” Will muttered under his breath.
Twain Chase’s stride hitched as his gaze fell on Will. “Well, here’s a happy surprise,” he said with what seemed like genuine pleasure. “What brings you here, son?”
He held out his hand to Will, who shook it. “Consulting with Schuyler on a legal matter, sir.”
Their father’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t aware that Cronus used our firm’s services.”
Will shook his head. “Not for Cronus.”
“It’s the pro bono case I mentioned,” Schuyler said.
“Right, right,” Twain said. “Some nonsense about a dog bite.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Although it brought the three of us together here, so I can’t complain. I see you’ve been enjoying the bar so I think I’ll join you.”
“I’ll get it, sir,” Will said, heading for the bar. “What would you like?”
A look of hurt crossed his father’s face. “Scotch, straight up. Just like yours.”
“I wasn’t sure if that was still your preference,” Will said, to reassure his father that he hadn’t forgotten they shared the same taste in alcohol. “Schuyler stocks good scotch so I should have guessed, since she prefers rye.”
Twain accepted the glass Will brought over. “Sit with me. Both of you,” Twain said, settling himself on the couch. “Tell me what you’re doing these days.”
Schuyler sat sideways in an upholstered chair and slung one leg over its arm. “I’m racking up the billable hours, as usual, Pops. Nothing new here.”
Her father winced at her casual nickname but didn’t complain about it. “I hear you want to take on the Winslett divorce. That’s an ugly one.”
“I think I can help Bethany Winslett receive her fair share of the assets. It’s going to take some fancy footwork, though.”
Will flashed her a questioning look and she nodded back. This must be another of the cases where she felt she could make a difference.
“If anyone can beat that bastard Frank Winslett, it’s you,” Twain said.
Schuyler looked surprised. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.”
So their father didn’t hand out compliments any more freely now than he had when they were children.
“How are things at Cronus?” Twain asked. “Any new projects?”
Will smiled. “Dog food, in fact. Fresh, hypoallergenic, gourmet dog food.”
“Well, why not?” Twain said. “Your mother loves those dogs of hers. She’ll probably be your first customer.”
Will and Schuyler looked at each other. Their father hadn’t pooh-poohed the dog food idea as ridiculous and a waste of money.
“That would be . . . gratifying,” Will said. “However, it will only be offered in affluent urban areas, at least for the initial release period.”
Twain nodded. “Makes good business sense.”
Will felt himself relaxing with his father for the first time in years. Now that he had the time to look at his dad as a human being, he realized with a shock that Twain’s hair was more white than blond and his jowls had the sag of an older man. Even his formerly square shoulders appeared rounded.
Will had been so busy battling his father that he hadn’t noticed the changes. Sadness and regret hollowed out his chest. He thought of Kyra, who had no parents left, and he knew what she would tell him to do.
“We should meet more often,” Will found himself saying. “Next time, you both could come to my office. I’ll make sure the bar is stocked with rye.” He met Schuyler’s astonished look with a sardonic twist of his lips.
Twain’s face lit up. “I’d like that. Next week?”
Will nodded, the look on his father’s face affecting him in a way he hadn’t expected. “Let’s get it on the calendar.” He stood. “I have a dinner meeting so I must bow out now.”
“Of course,” Twain said, but disappointment laced his voice.
“I’ll see you to the door,” Schuyler said, rising from the chair.
Will refrained from pointing out that he’d found the door just fine on his way in when she fell into step beside him, accompanying him past her assistant’s desk and into the hallway.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” his sister hissed. “Suddenly, you want to have family gatherings in your office. When did we turn into the Waltons?”
“He’s gotten old,” Will said. “I didn’t notice until just now.”
“Trust me, he’s just as sharp and critical as ever during the workday,” Schuyler said.
“I find that reassuring. But maybe we need to give him a chance to be less sharp and critical as a father.”
Schuyler shrugged. “It’ll get me out of work earlier if we’re trekking over to your office, so who am I to argue?”
“Maybe after a few more meetings, he’ll be receptive to our new career directions,” Will said.
“Go ahead and dream your unicorn dreams,” Schuyler said. She surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely. “I’m getting maudlin like Pops, but I’m glad you stopped by.”
Guilt slashed through him. In avoiding his parents, he had avoided his sister, too.
He held the hug, even as she loosened her grip. “I should have done it sooner.” He let her step away but cupped her shoulders. “No more letting parental pressure push us around.”
“You say that now because Pops is feeling mellow.” Schuyler gave his forearms an affectionate squeeze. “But I’ll try, big bro.”
“I’ll have your back.”
Chapter 18
Kyra checked the kitchen clock, an old Timex promotional item that someone had donated to the center. She had two hours before the adoption ceremony began . . . and Will would be there.
Isaiah was so excited about a CEO attending at his invitation that he’d shared the news with everyone. Evidently, Will had also promised to finish his interrupted history lesson about the Spartans versus the Persians.
In fact, the three boys he’d started with had gathered a whole crew to hear the rest of the story. Kyra couldn’t help feeling a sense of satisfaction at the thought of Will holding a group of preteen boys spellbound with a tale from a couple of thousand years ago without a single video game in sight. It just proved that she was right. He should be a teacher.
The satisfaction faded as she wondered what he would do and what she would feel when they saw each other again. She had already scoped out a hidden corner from which to observe the ceremony, but, as Isaiah’s guest and a potential donor to the center, Will would have a position of honor. How hard would it be to watch him from across the room, knowing he was forever out of her reach?
She closed her eyes as anguish ripped through her. That answered her question. Mayb
e she should embrace cowardice and hide in the pantry until Will was gone.
But forty hungry kids were counting on her for their snack, so she opened her eyes and forced herself to focus on that task. Cooking had gotten her through the hard times with her parents. It would get her through losing Will, too.
As she sprinkled cheese over the veggie and meat pizzas, Diego came through the door, slinging his backpack onto a stool. “Hey, Ms. Kyra. You said you had some good news for me,” he said. “I could sure use some. I got my chem test back today and it sucked.”
“Oh, no. What happened?” Diego was taking every science course his school offered so he would be prepared for a pre-veterinary major in college.
“The teacher is a douchebag. Sorry about the language,” the boy muttered. “At least he’s curving it, so I won’t get a D.”
“That makes it better, right?”
“He put stuff on the test that was like a footnote in the book. Stupid stuff. That ain’t . . . isn’t right.”
The teacher really did sound like a douchebag. “Let me cheer you up, then.” Kyra took a deep breath, knowing that once she made this commitment to Diego, she couldn’t go back on it. “If Shaq can’t come back to the center, I will adopt him.”
Once the thought had crossed her mind, she’d become convinced it was the right thing to do, despite the expense. She might even be excited about it.
Diego’s frown eased but he didn’t jump right on the news the way Kyra had expected. “You for real? I didn’t know you even liked dogs.”
“I like Shaq. And he’s gotten a bum deal.” The big pit bull had turned her into a friend when he’d leaned against her thigh and practically knocked her over in search of a good ear scratch.
“Don’t you work a lot of hours at night?”
“I do and that’s where you come in. My landlady, Ms. Woods, will let Shaq out during the day when I’m here and you’re in school.” Gloria’s house had a tiny fenced yard in back where Shaq could do his doggy business. “But I need someone to take Shaq out at night.” Someone who could walk the dark streets without anxiety, whether alone or with the pit bull. Very few people in the neighborhood would bother Diego because of his size, and who his father was. “I spoke with Violet and she says it’s okay with her, if you’re willing to take on the job.”
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