What's Not True

by Valerie Taylor

  Just as he’d screwed up her plans the year before, he had done it again, but this time doubly so. Not only did he force her and Chris to cut the stepmother-son reunion short in France, but by dying and anointing her queen, Mike forced her to rethink her decision to go back to Paris, which had been difficult enough in the first place because of Chris.

  She knew Tom would be at the funeral and would raise the issue. So, the day before the funeral, Kassie consulted with her mentor, Annie—the one person who could see the forest for the trees, when all Kassie saw were twinkling lights off the Seine, the glass pyramids at the Louvre, the flying buttresses of Notre-Dame Cathedral.

  They made a list, assigning weight to the pros and cons. Bottom line, her decision was as plain as the nose on Cyrano de Bergerac’s face.

  48

  Guest Wish List

  The scene, that Tuesday, was reminiscent of The Godfather, but with a female boss wearing a black dress from Paris sitting behind a big oak desk.

  It was a typical sticky, humid July day in Boston. The funeral of Michael Ricci was typical too. It had concluded an hour earlier. Since Mike and Kassie had few living relatives, close colleagues and friends filtered in to pay their respects and eat. Greeted by Teresa and Amelia, their guests would not be disappointed with the spread awaiting them.

  Kassie was grateful to Chris, who suggested she take some time to be alone and gather her thoughts. They’d agreed the afternoon could be as stressful, and perhaps even more emotional, than the church service and burial in the same cemetery where her mother had been laid to rest two years before. He’d offered to bring her a glass of wine. She declined. Water would do. No wine fog for her that day.

  The night before, Chris and she had discussed at length who they expected at the reception. Grabbing a yellow pad, she made a list of the people she needed to see privately, not wanting to leave to chance they’d come and go before she had an opportunity to talk with them.

  Top of the list? Tom. Some might accuse Kassie of calling in her chips; she’d say it was quid pro quo. Her loyalty to Calibri was documented over decades—it was time for the company to give her some wiggle room. If they did, she’d be sure to deliver the goods.

  She and Tom shared a hug and customary condolences—I’m so sorry, thank you, it’s such a shame. She offered him a seat, settling in a chair facing him, their knees almost touching. Tom didn’t have to ask why she singled him out to chat with first. Lately, her reputation for putting her professional career ahead of her personal needs had rebounded.

  Nor was she one for beating around the mulberry bush, quickly setting the stage for the ask to come. With Mike’s death, she became the majority owner of the firm. That meant she was chief executive of Ricci and Son, with full responsibility for its success or failure. Lucky for her, she had strong and capable leaders in Bill and Chris.

  Tom bobbed his head, allowing her to pave the way to her proposition the only way she knew how—one rung of the ladder at a time.

  Since Tom appeared to be in a positive frame of mind, Kassie’s confidence grew. First, she needed him to say what he said: “We’d be lost without you. You’d be difficult to replace.”

  “I’m hoping you won’t have to. Looks like I’ve been dealt a curse of riches.”

  Five minutes later, they had a deal Tom felt optimistic the board would approve. Kassie would accept the position in Paris, backfilling for Mimi and managing the merger. They agreed to a twelve-month window. During that time, she’d place control of Ricci and Son in Chris’s and Bill’s able hands. Three months before her return from Paris, they’d reassess the situation and determine the best course of action for Kassie and the two entities. And yes, in her capacity as acting managing director, she’d have to fly back to Boston for quarterly updates to the board.

  Kassie chuckled when Tom raised her left hand and kissed her engagement ring.

  With that agreement under her belt, she asked Chris to find Bill and Nancy. The four of them stood in her office for several minutes as Kassie shared the results of her negotiations with Tom. Chris squeezed her tight and ran off to get glasses and champagne. Moments later, they shook hands and made a toast to O’Callaghan, Mahoney, Gaines & Associates. They knew it would take the better part of a year to settle Mike’s estate, and once completed, they’d rename the firm officially.

  “Here’s to OMG!” Clink, clink. At long last something to cheer about, even if for a nanosecond.

  “Where’s Karen?” Kassie whisked her partners through the doorway.

  “I’ll get her,” Chris said.

  “Oh, no. Permit me.” Bill rubbed his palms together, as if he couldn’t wait.

  “I heard laughter in here. What’s going on?” Karen said.

  Kassie took the seat behind her desk and directed Karen to sit in the chair opposite her. She had no appetite for her one-on-one conversation with Karen to drag on any longer than absolutely necessary. Wearing two hats—employer and purveyor of Mike’s estate—she’d jotted down three messages to convey to Karen.

  First, because Kassie had commitments at Calibri, which she had no desire to share with Karen at that time, Bill and Chris would co-manage the firm for the next year.

  Karen shook her head in agreement.

  Second, it was Mike’s written wish for Karen to continue as receptionist of the firm as long as she wanted—that is, as long as she performed her duties in a professional manner.

  Karen squirmed in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

  Kassie paused to give Karen a chance to grunt or say something pithy. Nothing doing.

  “Karen? Did you get that?”

  “Um. Yes. Can I have time to think about it?”

  Kassie suspected her next bit of news might give Karen a swift kick in the ass one way or another.

  “Remember last week when I handed you a thousand dollars?”

  “How could I forget? You got more where that came from?” Karen laughed.

  Kassie interlaced her fingers, placing her hands in front of her on the black desk pad.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. According to Mike’s directive, in addition to long-term employment, a fund will be established that will deposit a thousand dollars tax-free into your checking account on the first of each month, for sixty months. That’s five years. You’ll recognize that as the same monthly stipend Mike provided after your husband’s death.”

  “That’s it? After all I did for him?”

  “Check with Charlie. In retrospect and under the circumstances, I think you both might agree Mike is being more than generous.”

  Karen tore the edges of a small paper bag she held in her lap. Kassie recognized the Guy’s and Dolly’s Galleria of Jewels imprint. “Well, at least I have this goddam necklace to remember him by,” Karen mumbled out of the side of her mouth, flip-flopping the bag.

  Kassie’s phone pinged. A text from Chris: Just got call. Breaking news.

  Karen started to rise.

  “Not so fast. We’re not done yet. You can stay seated where you are.”

  Kassie’s door opened, and it looked like a parade. First Chris, then Sarah, Charlie, and Annie, in that order. Chris motioned for her to move to one of the side chairs he’d quickly arranged so everyone could be seated in a circle close together. When she sat down, he squeezed her shoulders. She glanced up at him, trying to read his face. He gave her no clues about what he’d just learned of the lab test results conducted last Thursday.

  Goosebumps shivered up her arms. With the convergence of Mike’s death and the outing of Karen and Charlie, Sarah had seized the opportunity to put to rest a hunch that had nagged at her for more than forty years. Not that Kassie ever doubted Chris was Mike’s son, but when Sarah suggested to Chris that they conduct a paternity test at the same time as the autopsy, Kassie took it as a sign—perhaps a message from Mike—she shouldn’t ignore.

  Though they didn’t know each other well, Kassie admired Sarah’s guts and genius. A woman after her own heart
. Imagine picking up the phone one early morning to the news your adopted son’s biological father was dead and his adoptive father—your husband—was having an affair with your son’s biological mother. And then . . . to have the presence of mind to say three words—autopsy, paternity test.

  When Chris pushed for the autopsy at the hospital, especially after Kassie adamantly rejected it, Kassie weighed the odds the results could erase the scarlet letter she’d worn for how many days now? But then, who’s counting?

  Fifty-fifty. Those were the odds, as simple as that. Either Mike was Chris’s father, or he wasn’t. If he was, nothing in their lives would change. But if he wasn’t?

  Chris started with the results of the autopsy. No news there. Heart attack. Massive. He spared them any of the gory details. Kassie wouldn’t have understood them anyway and was too nervous to concentrate had he chosen to go down that path.

  Kassie glanced at Sarah, trying to read what was going through her mind. She gave no clue as she sat straight as an arrow, clutching her petite Louis Vuitton purse. Raising her eyebrows, Kassie recalled the outrageous cost of a similar purse in Paris. Money bags, she thought. No wonder Charlie stayed put all these years. Conversely, knowing what she knew now about Charlie, someday she’d ask Sarah why she hadn’t kicked him out on his arse a long time ago. Maybe forty years ago?

  “As you all know,” Chris began, “it’s been just a year since Mike told me he was my biological father and thus Karen, my biological mother. To be honest, and I can speak from experience, it’s mind-blowing at any age to meet your real parents after being raised by awesome folks you considered real parents, even if they technically weren’t.”

  Oh, God, he’s babbling. Since Kassie didn’t know the end of his story, she couldn’t save him. She reached for his hand. He let her take it. She clutched it tight.

  Annie got up and stood next to Chris, probably reading Kassie’s vibes.

  “Okay, okay,” he mumbled. “Maybe I’ll just say it.”

  “Say what?” Karen blurted.

  “At the same time the autopsy was done, they did a paternity test.”

  “What the fuck?” Charlie and Karen nearly shouted.

  “And, dear, you have the results now, I imagine?” Sarah said.

  “Yes, Mom, I do. Seems that Mike and I are not related.” He stopped and breathed. “Mike is not my father.”

  Kassie’s head fell into her hands as tears flowed like Niagara Falls. One big albatross flew off her shoulders, and she sprung into Chris’s arms.

  “That means I’m not your stepmother! Alleluia!”

  Chris and Kassie opened their embrace and welcomed Annie into their circle. When Sarah joined their celebration, Annie stepped aside and said, “So, the ten-million-dollar question is, if not Mike, who?”

  Four pairs of eyes centered on the two people who remained seated.

  “Charlie? Karen?” Sarah tilted her head. “I’m waiting, Charlie. Tell me if what I suspected since our senior year is true. If not for me, for Chris.”

  “Yes, do tell,” Chris said as he, Kassie, Annie, and Sarah all returned to their seats. Karen and Charlie didn’t move. They just stared at each other.

  “Could it really be?” Charlie said to Karen. “Is Chris my son? My real son? And you knew all this time?”

  Karen jumped up and paced in back of the circle of chairs, causing everyone to shift in their seats.

  “I didn’t know. Not for sure anyway. Remember that party? The key game? And that next time we did it?”

  Oh, gross, Kassie thought.

  Karen didn’t give Charlie time to answer. “I was seeing Mike then too. He and I were pretty darn serious. You were just a fling.” She flapped her hand in the air.

  “History sure has a way of repeating itself,” Annie said.

  Karen glared at Annie, who shrugged her shoulders. “I just call ’em as I see ’em.”

  “It could’ve been either of you.” Karen put her hand over her mouth.

  “I was afraid of that,” Sarah said. “Did you think I didn’t hear all about that party and your hookup? Sorority sisters keep secrets . . . and tell secrets . . . when necessary.”

  “Then why did you agree to adopt?” Karen scrunched her eyebrows.

  “Simple. If there was any chance at all Charlie was the father, I wanted to be that child’s mother. Not have you give him up to strangers.”

  “If you had an inkling, why didn’t you have a paternity test done yourself? You had easy access,” Kassie said.

  “Good question. I thought about it, more than once. We’d signed papers. Legally Charlie was Chris’s father. That was enough for me.”

  “Enough for me too. Good job, Mom.” Chris gave her a hug and Charlie a friendly slap on the back.

  “Well, it’s been one helluva couple of weeks. Wouldn’t you say? What do we do now?” Charlie asked.

  “Why don’t we all give Chris and Kassie space?” Annie ushered the parental trio out of the office. “If you three would like to talk somewhere private . . .” She turned and gave Chris and Kassie a two thumbs-up.

  Chris closed the door behind them and swept Kassie into his arms.

  “And you’ve suffered all this time. I’m so sorry. The sins of the fathers—”

  “And the mother.”

  He pushed her gently against a wall, almost knocking down a photo of her mother and father she’d left behind when she’d moved in with Annie. Lifting her off her heels, he kissed her with renewed passion, reminding her of their first lustful kiss in front of her hotel in Venice.

  “Can’t wait until later,” he whispered, his hands doing the talking . . . and the walking.

  “Me neither.”

  But wait they did, because she had one more guest to see. She’d save the best until last.

  49

  She Is What She Is

  “Come on in, Cecilia.”

  Chris held a chair for her as Kassie freshened herself, pinching her cheeks and running her fingers through her hair.

  “I’m so glad you waited around. Funerals.” Kassie grunted. You need to spend time with friends, colleagues, folks you haven’t seen in years.” Kassie shrugged, knowing now she was the one babbling. No harm. Right up Cecilia’s alley.

  “Oh, no, it’s perfectly understandable, Mrs. Ricci. I’m substantially honored that you invited me into your and Mr. Ricci’s warm and hospitable abode.”

  “Call me Kassie.” She smiled, replaying in her mind the news that she hadn’t been sleeping with the son of her husband, her late husband, all this time. She decided not to correct Cecilia and tell her it was just her home now that Mr. Ricci was six feet under.

  Seeing how Mike cared for this young woman, almost as if she was a daughter he never had, Kassie wondered what Mike’s reaction would’ve been to the news he didn’t have a son after all. Didn’t matter. She’d never know.

  After a long, emotional day, Kassie relaxed and let her hair down with Chris and Cecilia. They reminisced about Mike, his quirkiness in the hospital and how he liked to give the nurses a hard time. Cecilia said he was a good talker.

  “Mr. Ricci thought highly of you too, Cecilia. In fact, he’s left a monetary gift for you.”

  Cecilia’s eyes squinted as her head flipped back and forth between Chris and Kassie. “For me?”

  “Let me explain. Actually, there are two components to this legacy. First is an outright gift. Mr. Ricci left instructions for you to receive twenty-five thousand dollars for you to finish your bachelor’s degree. You’re going into your senior year?”

  “Oh my goodness. Yes.”

  “And there’s a paid internship waiting for you at Ricci and Son.”

  “The timing is up to you, Cecilia,” Chris said. “Depending on your course load. You can start this summer and continue through the next year, or if you prefer, you can wait until you graduate in May.”

  “We’re very grateful for your kindness,” Kassie said. “You’ll always be a special part of our famil
y, which seems to be growing by the minute.”

  “I’m speechless.”

  I thought you might be.

  Not surprisingly, Cecilia gathered herself and thanked them profusely and said she couldn’t wait to get home to tell her parents about their generosity and faith in her. And then like an angel, poof, she was gone.

  The house suddenly felt eerily peaceful and quiet, except for the hum of the dishwasher in the distance. Chris stepped away, saying he’d do a fly-by around the first floor. Most everyone had gone; even all his parents had flown the coop. Vicki and Amelia scurried around collecting napkins, plates, and glassware.

  Kassie heard Teresa ask Chris for a box of matches. “Candles. This house needs calming. Lavender candles will do the trick.”

  A few minutes later, Chris wandered back to Kassie’s office, where both she and Annie had kicked off their shoes. Two best friends forever winding down, comparing manicures. Kassie showed her the remnants of her pomegranate rash. Annie one-upped her with an exaggerated tale about a rash she’d gotten after a particularly raunchy night with her boyfriend, Jack.

  “Too much information!” Kassie chuckled.

  “Come on in, Chris. Join us.” Annie waved him in.

  “Life is good, after all, eh?” Kassie reached for his hand.

  “Just as it should be.” Chris smiled. “Doesn’t get much better than this.”

  Ding dong. Ding dong. Cling. Clang.

  “What now?” Chris said.

  “Maybe more flowers. Or somebody forgot something.” Kassie shrugged.

  Amelia appeared in the doorway. “Um. Chris, there’s someone here to see you.”

  Arm in arm, barefoot and giggling, Kassie and Annie followed five steps behind Chris to the entryway.

  “What are you doing here?” Kassie heard Chris say as he stood between her and the apparently uninvited guest.