Like One of the Family

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “You’re a piece of work,” he muttered, throwing the car into the next gear without finesse, causing her to jerk against the seat belt. “Chicago is the perfect place for someone like you.”

  “Is that so? And why is that?” she asked without a trace of humor to soften the sarcasm in her tone.

  “Because all the snow and ice is perfect for the frigid bitch you’ve become. I can’t believe you and Jack are related and, frankly, if anyone else’s name had been on the legal documents I would’ve gladly given them the information. As it is, you’re the one listed as the next of kin in the event something were to happen to Jack, and obviously Lilah isn’t cut out for this kind of stuff. I didn’t have much of a choice,” he added with a dark scowl.

  Lora stared out at the passing scenery, ignoring the sharp stab of hurt his words caused. As the oldest sister, she had assumed the responsibility of the family estate, such that it was, if one resort could be considered an estate, but Pops had never made it a secret that he wanted his little “sugar birds” to inherit the resort when he passed. With her other sister Lindsey, Lilah’s twin, in Southern California doing the actress thing, it seemed appropriate for Lilah to come and help out since she was the only one of the three who was still searching for a career—and failing miserably—but Lora hadn’t imagined that things could implode so badly with Lilah at the helm. “Just drive, please. I didn’t fly all the way here from Chicago to listen to you lecture me.”

  She longed to pinch the bridge of her nose to stem the sudden pounding in her sinuses caused by too much flora and fauna all at once, but she’d allow nothing that would betray her discomfort or the nagging sense of guilt that she’d shrugged off her responsibility and dumped it on her baby sister when deep down she’d known it wasn’t a good idea. But honestly, the woman had to grow up sometime and now had seemed as good a time as any, particularly when Lora had been too busy to attend to the issues herself.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Heath replied, the flip tone smacking in the face of his obvious anger. He kept his attention on the road, for which Lora was inordinately glad; it kept them from suffering through too much eye contact.

  It hadn’t always been like this between them, though the time when they’d actually been friends seemed far away now. She supposed she might’ve been to blame for the change, but it was so long ago she saw no point in picking apart history to reminisce.

  In an effort to ease the silence filling the car like a throat-clogging perfume, Lora asked, “So…how are things on the island? Everything seems pretty much the same as when I left.”

  “Small talk, huh? You sure you want to try something out of your field? I know your penchant for success in all things. I’d hate to witness your attempt at niceties crash and burn so badly.”

  “I’m just trying to be civil.”

  “Don’t bother. I lost any respect I had for you four months ago when my last email went unanswered and I had to sit in the urgent care with Pops after he’d wandered out and fell and hit his head. He needed twenty stitches, by the way.”

  Pops had fallen? Lilah hadn’t told her. “I don’t recall that message,” she said stiffly, shifting against the uncomfortable squeeze her conscience gave her for losing Heath’s message—not intentionally, she’d been buried under deadlines, meetings, dinner appointments and whatnot of her hectic life, she was tempted to point out—but she held her ground. “Neither you nor Lilah must have tried very hard. I’m always accessible as you discovered when you sent me the certified letter demanding I come home over this situation with the resort.”

  He cut her a short look and snorted. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. If I want to get your attention, a certified letter is necessary.” Heath scrubbed at his head, irritation hardening his features. “I always wondered why Pops put you in charge of his affairs. Something tells me you must hide that predatory nature of yours behind pretty smiles for the old man because if he saw what I see…he’d likely change his mind, right quick.”

  Pops adored them all. Their mother, his only daughter, had given him three little sugar birds that he’d delighted in spoiling. And it was true, she did soften her natural inclination to go for the jugular when she was around Pops. She narrowed her stare at Heath for his spot-on observation.

  “My relationship with my grandfather is none of your business,” she said sharply. “I fail to see why you’re so up in arms over a problem that doesn’t truly concern you. It’s not as if anyone asked you to take on my family’s problems. If you’re so bothered by the way I am, then by all means, find some other family to attach yourself to.”

  At her rebuke, he stiffened and she felt the overwhelming urge to apologize. It seemed her mouth didn’t know when to rein it in or offer mercy. She struggled not to grimace. That was similar to what her former boss had said to her when he fired her. According to Stan Brothers, CEO of The Pershing Group, Lora lacked tact, and was unnecessarily abrasive. Of course, Stan hadn’t cared when she’d been bringing in the big accounts, only when she’d lost one account. Okay…if she were being honest, the biggest account The Pershing Group had ever managed but was that truly enough to warrant termination? Realizing her mind was traveling off topic, she returned to Heath with a barely restrained sigh.

  “I thought everyone on the island was supposed to be easygoing and nice. What happened to you?”

  Heath’s mouth tipped in a slow smirk that didn’t quite reach the storm of his hazel eyes. “You happened, Lora Bell. Plain and simple…you happened.”

  * * *

  HEATH NEARLY BIT HIS tongue in half as he let the words fly, wishing he’d just held to his earlier decision to keep his mouth shut for the duration of the car ride and then move on after he’d deposited her in the driveway. But the minute he’d seen her, looking stiff as steel, poured into the tailored business suit that was ridiculously overdressed for the humid tropical climate, he’d been unable to listen to his own good advice.

  Seeing the woman made it difficult to remember the girl.

  She hadn’t always been chipped from granite like she was now. Hell, he didn’t think she remembered that fact or if she did, she didn’t much like to be reminded. Maybe that’s why they’d always rubbed each other wrong. He knew a few of her secrets, even if she pretended otherwise. He remembered a girl with tears on her face, struggling to hold it together for her sisters’ sake on the day of her mother’s funeral. Lindsey and Lilah had been looking to her for strength and she was determined to give it to them, even if she’d had nothing left for herself.

  He remembered laughter between two kids, running along the surf, and eating fresh coconut when they were hungry. He also remembered the way she’d looked at him, as if he were the funniest, brightest, most awesome boy alive. He remembered a basket of food when he’d been most certainly about to starve.

  That’s how he remembered Lora Bell. And damn it, that might’ve been the moment he lost a tiny piece of his heart to her, too.

  Sometimes he wondered if he’d imagined all of it.

  The woman she’d become wasn’t even a shadow of the girl she’d been.

  Everything changed when he’d returned to the island after a year of being gone.

  Suddenly, he’d become just the boy who did odd jobs for Pops, the unwelcome presence at the dinner table on some nights, or the lanky teen who’d burned with humiliation as Lora dismissed him as any kind of romantic possibility.

  He was ashamed to admit there was some small part of him that hoped he’d see a remnant of the girl she’d been so long ago even though it’d been years since she’d put in an appearance. He was an idiot for hoping—he knew—but buried deep, that hope still flickered, even if it was a very dim ember.

  “You know if you weren’t so damn difficult all the time, people might have an easier time liking you,” he bit out in spite of himself.

  “You
suffer under the mistaken assumption the opinions of others matter to me,” she replied simply. “I couldn’t care less what other people think of me. You’ve known me long enough, surely you remember that about me.”

  He gritted his teeth. “I also remember you being a bit nicer at one time.”

  She seemed momentarily shaken by his admission, as if they’d both quietly agreed to never talk about the times before he left for St. Thomas for a year, and within a heartbeat she’d stuffed away any hint of discomfort or raw feeling.

  “Your memory is flawed.”

  “Maybe,” he acknowledged with a shrug. “But doubtful. However, why you would take pride in being so difficult, I don’t understand. You know, you catch more bees with honey than vinegar and spreading a little goodwill might be helpful considering you haven’t been on the island for some time. You never know where you might need help.”

  She leveled a short look his way. “Thanks for the advice I didn’t ask for. I take pride in being efficient. If you consider that being difficult, then so be it. As far as needing goodwill…I don’t see how that applies. I’m here to solve a problem, not run for mayor.”

  Ah, hell. Why did he even try? She was a lost cause. “Fine. Whatever. Just trying to help.”

  “Your help would’ve been useful before I was required to hop a plane and put my life on hold,” she said evenly, staring straight ahead, though her grip tightened ever so slightly on the roof handle, betraying something. Heath couldn’t be sure if his comment had struck a nerve or she just really had to pee and she wished he would drive faster.

  “Yeah, well, I guess if you were more efficient about getting your messages, we might not be in this mess now.”

  He expected a cutting retort but she remained silent. Whether she secretly agreed with him or she simply had run out of steam to argue, he didn’t know.

  One thing was for sure, he was pretty certain whatever had been lodged in his heart for all those years was dead and gone. Now he was just here for Pops. He loved the old man and would do whatever was necessary to help him—including putting up with Lora.

  Lilah had tried to mop up the mess but she’d been out of her element and completely clueless as to how to keep a resort running while her beloved Pops held imaginary conversations with her long-dead Grams. Actually, he felt kinda bad for the kid. Lora had put her in a bad spot and now was ready to crucify Lilah for failing.

  Time for damage control. If there was a way he could reel back the words he’d carelessly uttered, he’d do it. Barring that, he needed to focus attention on what mattered.

  “Listen, here’s the deal. Pops loses time. One minute he’s totally fine and acting like the Pops I’ve known since I was a kid but then he slips and he’s not in the here and now.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “It means sometimes he thinks Grams is still alive,” he answered grimly.

  Lora exhaled softly, shocked by his admission. He knew how close Lora and Grams had been. Losing her had been nearly as tough as when she’d lost her mother. When she spoke again, her voice was strong, betraying nothing of whatever she was feeling inside, leaving him to wonder if she had a shred of humanity left in her. “Well, we’ll just have to remind him of reality. Grams died ten years ago. We can’t let him marinate in fantasy. That can’t be healthy.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes it’s better than watching him lose her over and over again. When you tell him that Grams is gone, it’s as if she’s just died.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, and this time her voice softened and real distress was etched on her face. He found that a good sign. Maybe there was hope for her yet. “What can we do for him? Is there medication he can take? What does the doctor say?”

  “Well, if you’d come when I first started calling…you’d know.”

  She pressed a delicate finger to her temple and waved him off. “Yes, yes, I’m the big bad bitch and my sisters are irresponsible twits. We’ve already sufficiently covered that topic. Time to move on before my head explodes. Something in the air is making my sinuses riot. Do you have any allergy medication at the resort?”

  He was tempted to say no, but he wasn’t that big of a jerk. “Yeah,” he said.

  “Oh, good,” she said, relieved, closing her eyes. “I propose we postpone this episode of the I Hate Lora Bell Show until I’ve had a chance to stop this pounding in my head. I have enough to deal with as it is, I don’t need sparring with you added to the list just yet. I’ll keep quiet, if you will. Deal?”

  “Fine by me,” he muttered, pissed that she was ending what he hadn’t planned on starting in the first place. “Welcome home.”

  Good as her word, she buttoned her lip, content to finish the drive in silence, although his mind stubbornly continued to hit him with what was to come.

  No doubt she thought she’d make whatever fixes she figured were necessary and then jump on the next ferry out of here. She was going to discover, quite quickly, it wouldn’t be that simple.

  If only she’d shown up sooner…maybe things might’ve been put right more easily.

  Now? It’d be a miracle if Larimar wasn’t sold out from underneath their feet.

  And if that happened? It would surely send Pops toppling over the ledge of sanity and into the land of no return.

  He hoped Lora couldn’t live with that on her conscience.

  But risking a glance at the woman seeming to drowse in the island heat, he couldn’t help but fear that a conscience was the first thing Lora had sacrificed for that high-powered career of hers, and if that was the case…likely Larimar was screwed.

  And by proxy…so was he.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HEATH PARKED IN THE SMALL spot designated for the resort vehicle, and Lora sprang from her seat, eager to get away from Heath and his condemning scowl.

  She went to grab her bag but Heath was already jerking it free from the Jeep, being none too gentle with the expensive luggage. Lora reached for the handle, exasperated. “A little care, please? This probably cost more than what you make in a month.” He shot her a quelling look and she immediately felt bad for the comment, but her temper was in full control of her mouth, and frustration had dissolved whatever portion of empathy and common courtesy she’d possessed before she’d even landed at Charlotte Amalie Airport in St. Thomas.

  “Sorry about that,” she muttered, in an attempt to soften the insult but Heath had already turned his back on her. She could almost see the disgust he felt for her emanating from him in waves with each step that carried him farther away. Fine, be that way, she wanted to shout even knowing she’d been the one to snap first. What was it about Heath Cannon that made her act like a ten-year-old? She’d fired people for less.

  All right, so let’s get this over with. Maybe with any luck she’d have this crisis figured out before the week was out and she could hop another plane back to Chicago before her hair permanently frizzed into an iguana’s nest of knots. As far as Pops went, she couldn’t believe that his mind was deteriorating. He was the smartest man she knew. Likely, his memory gaps were simply a product of the natural aging process. For crying out loud, if she didn’t have her BlackBerry to keep her on track she’d forget plenty of important things, but that didn’t mean she had dementia. Everyone seemed to be pulling a Chicken Little. Chances were that the sky was not actually falling.

  Larimar—named after the agate stone found only in the Caribbean that locals claimed had magical qualities—came into view with its swaying tropical foliage flanking the entrance with bay rum and giant kapok trees creating a green canopy of various shades. Bright wild flowers dotted the underbrush and lizards of all kinds darted away from the approach of human feet.

  She’d thought her pique would insulate her from nostalgia but the minute she crossed the threshold into the airy lobb
y of Larimar, her high heels clicking sharply on the travertine tile floor, memories drifted from hidden corners like the smell of coconut suntan lotion on the ocean breeze. Lora halted, her eyes closing for just a moment as her Grams floated into her mind’s eye and her beloved voice echoed in Lora’s mind.

  “Little Miss Bell, have you had at least one hour of fun at the beach today?” Grams had asked one day when she found Lora studying instead of doing what every other kid was doing during summer vacation. Grams had gently closed the book, her eyes smiling but faintly serious as she instructed Lora to go act like a teenager for once. “Go get into some trouble, but not too much trouble, mind you. Just enough to make interesting memories to giggle over when you’re an adult. And for land’s sake, get your nose out of those books.”

  Lora had been focused on her grades, not goofing off or finding boyfriends like most of her friends, or twin sisters for that matter. Lindy was a shameless flirt who basked in the adoration of every pair of male eyes that crossed at the sight of her bouncing around in her tiny bikini; Lilah, the younger twin by one minute, had also enjoyed her share of boys clustered around her, though she’d been more carefree about her love life, choosing to float through relationships until the wind took her elsewhere.

  Oh, Grams… Lora took a quiet moment to collect herself, shaking off the memory of her beloved grandmother with effort. Of all things, she missed Grams the most.

  Grams had been the calm in the storm that had become Lora’s life when they were forced to move to Larimar after her father abandoned them. Lora’s mother had been so heartbroken, so lost after her husband split. And then, shortly after they’d arrived in St. John, the cancer diagnosis had followed. It had seemed a colossally bad cosmic joke but it’d been no joke. Her mother had died with little fight. In fact, it had seemed to Lora that her mother had simply given up. For that, Lora found memories of her mother difficult. More so than memories of Grams. At least with Grams, Lora had plenty of great memories to temper the sad ones. Intellectually, Lora knew it wasn’t fair to judge her mother based on the memories of a ten-year-old girl, but she did anyway. Just one more reason Lora was known as the Bitch, she supposed.