by A. C. Arthur
She grabbed her purse then.
“Mother,” Dane said as he stood.
“No!” she said pointing her bag at him. “Don’t ‘mother’ me. You’ve betrayed me and you know I don’t stand for betrayals. I did everything I could for you Dane. And you turn your back on me for them!”
“I’m not turning my back on you. I’m trying to help you,” he insisted.
“You’re trying to kill me! Locking me up, having some shrink pour those pills down my throat will kill me, Dane. Is that what you want? You wanna kill your mother?”
The words reverberated off the walls, echoing in his mind. He didn’t want to think of his mother dying. He’d already lost Jaydon. But she was a danger to herself and to other people.
“Mother,” he tried again and this time reached for her arm.
“No! Don’t you touch me,” Roslyn screamed.
When Dane didn’t back away, she picked up the lamp on a nearby table and threw it in his direction. He moved out of the way letting the lamp fall to the floor. Roslyn headed for the door. Dane went after her. She turned so fast, her arm moving so quickly that Dane barely had a chance to stop before the gun was thrust into his face. Her arm was shaking as she pointed it at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t you make me do this,” she said to him. “Don’t you do it, Dane. I’ll never forgive you if you do.”
His heart broke completely in that moment. She was holding a gun on him, threatening to shoot him. A part of Dane wanted to believe that she was his mother and that a mother could never hurt their child. But a bigger part of him knew that only part of this woman’s mind recognized that she was his mother. Another part, unfortunately probably the part with the most control, didn’t understand relationships like that. She would shoot and she would leave him to die. Maybe later she would regret it, but for the moment she wouldn’t hesitate.
Dane took a step back.
She might be caught if he shot him. There were guards in this building that might see her leaving with a gun in hand. What if French girl hadn’t left the apartment yet? What if she heard or witnessed this?
He shook his head.
“I don’t want to hurt you, mother.”
“You already have,” she snapped and then turned and ran out of the room.
Chapter 6
One month later
Basset Banks Vineyard
Napa Valley, California
“Something’s come up,” Wade said to Brynne when they were sitting in the den together late Tuesday morning. “I have to go to The Center to review some paperwork our legal team just received.”
Brynne had been reading an art magazine she’d subscribed to under Lauren’s name so it would be delivered here. It was the second magazine she’d read after going over her emails and checking in with the recruiter whose name she’d received from one of her professors that she’d kept in touch with. She was also dying of boredom.
So Wade showing up to break their afternoon date was a bit disappointing.
“Oh, that’s fine. I have some other things I need to take care of,” she told him as she closed the magazine and set it on the table beside her.
“Are they in the city? Because I still want to spend time with you today,” he told her.
He was standing across the room near the bar. It was a dark cherrywood fixture that matched every wall and floor in the Big House. Heavy ornately decorated wood was the theme to this place, one which Brynne found warm and comforting. Wade poured water from a bottle over ice cubes in his glass and then carried the glass over to where Brynne was sitting. She was on the rich mahogany colored couch, which wasn’t her favorite, but the Italian leather was definitely the softest and most addictive fabric she’d ever felt.
“I can drive us into San Francisco and drop you off wherever you need to go. Then I’ll come back and pick you up when I finish my business at The Center,” he suggested before taking a drink.
“That’s okay. I have a car. You don’t have to go out of your way.”
“I know you have a car and nothing you need is considered out of my way,” he said. “I’m just trying to work things out so that we can still have our time.”
Their time. Brynne had been thinking a lot about all the time they’d been spending together. With the exception of the weekend trip he’d taken to Denver to look at a possible new investment, Brynne and Wade had been together for a part of every day, for the last six weeks. They’d explored every inch of this vineyard and had even gone on a tasting tour of the vineyards in Sonoma. This, Brynne had found extremely entertaining as Wade had pulled a baseball cap down low on his head and wore dark sunglasses so that nobody recognized him and accused him of attempting to steal their trade secrets.
“Sonoma is a beautiful place. I just want to show you everything it has to offer without being accused of some type of trickery in the wine community,” he’d told her.
“You look like a celebrity trying to hide from the paparazzi,” she’d replied.
“Well then, consider yourself lucky to be out with a celebrity, Ms. Donovan.”
“I’d rather just consider myself lucky to be out with a great guy,” she’d said.
He hadn’t had any words for her then, but instead had pulled her close and kissed her hard. Brynne still remembered how her lips had tingled for the duration of that day. That had been one of many really good days with Wade. Something she feared she may have been getting used to.
“Come on, go with me. I don’t want to make that hour long drive alone,” he implored as she looked at him now.
“Why not? That gives you plenty of time to listen to that classical music you like,” she joked. They’d had several conversations about their tastes in music and had finally come to one conclusion—they both liked different music.
He chuckled. “I’ll meet you halfway and we can listen to Ed Sheerin or John Legend.”
While she liked those two singers well enough, Brynne wanted to test her bargaining power.
“How about, I go upstairs and change and meet you at the car in twenty minutes. By that time you should have found that Prince playlist that I saved to your Pandora account,” she countered.
Wade finished his water and looked toward the window with a tilt of his head as if he were actually considering her words. So Brynne stood and stretched. Then, for good measure, she yawned.
“Or, I can just head upstairs and take a nap. My errands can wait until tomorrow.”
She’d walked past where he sat and planned to continue walking right out of the room, but he grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around.
“Okay. Okay. You win,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “But you’re not always going to get your way, Miss Lady.”
Brynne couldn’t help it, she grinned because she loved how it felt to be held in his strong arms.
“Well then, I might have to think of other ways to convince you to do my bidding,” she said as she snuggled closer to him.
The smile slipped from his face as he stared down at her seriously and shook his head. “You won’t have to do much. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m basically like putty in your hands.”
Brynne didn’t know why those words warmed her so much. She didn’t know why she liked the tone of his voice and the silky feel of his hair between her fingers as much as she did. Nor, could she reconcile with the fact that she looked forward to the text message he sent her each night before she fell asleep, simply to say goodnight.
“That’s good to know,” she said before going up on her toes to touch her lips to his. “Really good.”
#
“You’re new here. Do you want to share your story with us?”
The man Wade knew as Calvin asked Brynne.
They’d gone straight to The Center because Brynne had insisted. She’d taken longer than her stated twenty minutes to change and she didn’t want to make him late. Wade didn’t argue with her because he was too busy admiring the outfit she’d
changed into. She wore orange pants with a thin gold belt and a white tank top. Her jacket had quarter length sleeves and was white with orange, green and yellow flowers. Her shoes were gold sandals with thick heels that made her almost eye-level with him and she’d styled her hair until it lay over her shoulders in sleek waves. She looked flirty and chic and Wade couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
That was probably why he’d rushed through that paperwork in record time only to head back out to the waiting room where Brynne had assured him she would be waiting, to find her gone. It had taken him a few minutes and then finally at the direction of Shernell, the receptionist, to find her standing with her sunglasses on toward the back of one of the meeting rooms.
“Ah, pardon me,” Brynne began, in response to Calvin’s request. “I’m not part of this class. I was…um, just observing.”
Calvin nodded. He was a former child star who had acted on a popular sitcom from the time he was three years old, until he’d been deemed washed up at seventeen. Apparently, Hollywood wasn’t looking for overweight teens struggling with acne. For the next three years food was Calvin’s best friend and cocaine was his lover. A heart attack at twenty-four had opened his eyes. Wade remembered sitting next to Lauren as they’d interviewed him for the position of group counselor, and thinking how much of an inspiration he was going to be.
“We’re all observing too,” Calvin replied to Brynne. “We observe the way the world treats us and decide how we’re going to respond. I’ve got a feeling that you’ve done some of that yourself.”
Brynne moved slowly, taking her glasses off and stuffing them into the large yellow Michael Kors purse she carried.
“I guess you’ve got a point there,” she said to Wade’s amazement.
He figured she would have smiled politely and told the group in a more pointed way that she wasn’t here for this. Then she would walk her sexy self out the door. As entertaining as Wade thought that might be, watching her walk to the front of the room, her shoulders squared, intention clear in her steps was far more intriguing.
When she stood in front of the group of nine people, Brynne cleared her throat and began to speak.
“I was always a chubby child,” she said. “That’s what my mother called it. My grandmother called me her little cookie monster because I ate so many cookies when I visited her. She swore they all went to my plump cheeks that she used to squeeze and kiss often. Those were the moments I didn’t mind being overweight.”
Wade leaned against the doorjamb. He folded his arms over his chest and watched her intently.
“As I grew older, the comments from others became a lot less appealing to me. I was a strong willed and confident child so I basically felt like I looked good no matter what. You see, I had a slight advantage over some people in that I could have clothes specially designed for me. My mother did that from time to time. I preferred to shop for my own items because I knew my tastes and what would look good on me. I didn’t need anyone’s praise to feel complete. But on certain days, when I was in a particular mood, the teasing and taunting still hurt.”
She took a deep breath and then let it out with a smile.
“I rose above all of that. Achieving good grades with minimal effort, keeping friends, having an active social life. I was just fine. Until I wasn’t.”
“What happened? Was it a guy?” a woman in the front row asked.
Brynne shook her head.
“No. Well, I guess it was, in a way,” she answered.
Wade frowned. He wasn’t going to like it if she said some guy hurt her. He wasn’t going to like that at all.
“My doctor gave me a diagnosis and a projection of what my life might be like in the upcoming ten to twenty years. If I lived that long. I didn’t like it, so I changed.”
Another woman made a tsking sound. “Right. Because you’re rich.”
Brynne blinked and stared at the woman.
“You could have just come out and said that. But you didn’t. Still, I knew from the way you thought you could just stand there and watch us. Then you walked up here like you were a queen and told us you could have a professional stylist design your clothes, like you’re better looking than us because of that.”
“That’s not what I said,” Brynne told her.
“So you had the money to have surgery. Is that what you did? Or no, you hired a personal trainer and a personal chef. So you wake up in the morning to already cooked healthy meals and then spend the rest of the day working out. A few hours are allotted for you to shop for your next designer bag or shoes. Then you put on another fancy outfit, regardless of the size, and head out for the night.”
“That sounds like a nice story,” Brynne continued. “But it’s not mine.”
The woman frowned as if she didn’t believe her.
“Tell us more of your story, Brynne,” Calvin coaxed.
Wade suspected Calvin wanted to hear more because he could somehow relate to the things that Brynne was saying.
“It’s okay to think that “rich people”, as you put it, have an advantage. Even when they’re overweight and not the public’s idea of perfection. But there are some basic things that even money cannot change,” she said. “If I didn’t change my lifestyle and eating habits I was going to continue to suffer from high blood pressure. In the very near future, I would have been diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. My every other month visit to the orthopedist for what they’d diagnosed as early onset arthritis in both my knees, would no doubt have been bumped up to bi-weekly appointments. And the amount of zeroes in my bank account wasn’t going to change that. Only I could make that difference. Just like you’re the only one that can make a change in your life.”
“Worrying about what I have or used to get where I am, isn’t going to make your steps any easier. Searching for excuses or others to blame isn’t going to make you any healthier or happier with yourself either.”
Brynne looked over to Calvin at that point.
“I’m sorry if I’ve taken up too much of your class time. I’ll be going now,” Brynne said and started to walk away.
But when two members of the class began to applaud Brynne stopped walking.
“Thank you…ah…,” Calvin said when she turned to look back at him.
“Brynne,” she told him with an incredulous look on her face. “Brynne Donovan.”
“Thank you, Brynne Donovan. That was an inspiring story,” Calvin said and joined the others while they clapped.
Brynne smiled then and when she turned to head for the door this time, she looked surprised to see that Wade was clapping too.
#
He’d said he changed his mind about what he’d had planned for them today. Brynne had thought going to The Center was the only part of the schedule they would be doing differently. She was so very wrong.
The San Francisco Museum of Art was a sleek building with phenomenal exhibitions. They’d been here for over an hour and Brynne was still in awe. In that time they’d enjoyed the German Art after 1960, Tomás Saraceno’s Stillness In Motion—Cloud Cities, and the dian arbus in the beginning, exhibits. The space was large and airy and left space for visitors to enjoy. Down a spiraling staircase they went with Wade holding Brynne’s hand and pulling her closer when she was once again standing beside her.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Most definitely,” she replied. “This is a lovely space. Even though I’m used to working in a more intimate art environment.”
“When you worked for Lakefield Galleries,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied and nodded. “We were known for our limited showings of unknown and famous artists.”
“I’ve never had the opportunity to visit a Lakefield gallery before,” he said as they walked down a dimly lit hallway.
The floors here were a deep brown cement, perfectly smoothed and glossed. The walls seemed to be made of the same material which made the area dark. Not gloomy, but more along the lines of sexy and romantic. She squee
zed Wade’s hand involuntarily at the thought. There was recessed lighting in the ceiling casting them in a golden haze every now and then.
“The one in New York is fantastic. Next time you’re in the city you have to go. Last year they opened another gallery in Atlanta. I’ve heard that one is being well received, but I haven’t had an opportunity to get out there,” she said.
“But you want to,” he commented. “You sound like you’re very eager to see it.”
She shrugged. “I guess I am. Especially since I could have been managing it.”
“Really?” he asked and looked down at her. “Why aren’t you?”
His eyes were lovely. Almost hypnotic she’d venture to say.
“Um, yeah. I was offered the job and I accepted. But that was before my medical issues and the decision to come out here for the surgery.”
Brynne knew she sounded sad about that fact. She couldn’t help it, the lost opportunity was still a sore spot for her.
“You couldn’t get some type of medical leave?”
“No.”
“They didn’t offer it or you wouldn’t accept it?”
Brynne stopped just as they came to two glass doors.
“I didn’t tell them my reason for not taking the position. At least not at that time,” she said. “Let’s go inside. I looked at the brochure and I’m excited to show you this particular exhibit.”
He wanted to ask her more about the job at the gallery. Brynne knew this and that was why she changed the subject. She didn’t want to talk about that job anymore, nor did she want to think about how much she really missed being around art every day.
“So this is it,” she said as they approached another dim lit space. This one, however, Brynne knew what to expect.
The walls were a navy blue, speckled glass as could be seen once they were closer. A fifteen by twenty-five space with fifteen glass top encasings, all of which were four and a half feet high. She knew the specifications well as they’d had the distinct pleasure of hosting this artist multiple times in the years she worked at Lakefield. He was famous, but it was easy to book with him since Monica was seeing his brother.
