Lily Rose

by Deborah Robinson

  “We’re your family now,” Lisa echoed.

  Every family has its secrets, Lily thought as she allowed Lisa to help her up.

  Richard insisted on having his driver take her back to her apartment, ostensibly for her comfort, but in reality, so that no one else would see, and possibly recognize her, in her present condition. As Lily stepped into the elevator and before the door closed, he whispered to her, “Don’t worry about Peyton, I’ll take care of everything.”

  There was no time for her to wonder what he meant by that because she was soon being rapidly whisked down to the first floor. When she was safely out of the building, back in their luxurious living room, Richard and Lisa Reynolds held each other and cried.

  As silently as she could, Lily let herself into her apartment, finding it quiet and Peyton asleep. She took a long, hot shower, trying to erase the evidence of his violence against her. But after changing into her nightgown, she couldn’t bring herself to enter the bedroom, and feared the very thought of getting into bed with him. She sat huddled in an armchair, and her pets came to her—her beautiful Siberian Husky, Sable, and her beloved strawberry blond Himalayan cat, Hollywood—providing comfort that no human could. As Sable lay by her feet, and Hollywood curled up in her lap, she fell into a fitful sleep.

  The next morning, she awoke with a start when she heard Peyton’s angry voice coming from the bedroom. The events of the previous night came rushing back into her head as, with her heart thumping, she tentatively got to her feet and listened at the bedroom door. Peyton was having an argument on the phone with his father, and from the sounds of it, it was one that he was about to lose.

  * * *

  That morning, true to his word, Richard Reynolds took care of everything. On the phone call he informed Peyton that someone else would be stepping in as president of the company while he spent six months in rehab in Malibu. Lily didn’t know what to say as he packed a small suitcase in a stony, resentful silence. Finally, as he was waiting for the limo to take him to the airport, he turned to her. To her amazement, he was the one who sounded hurt, like a child who had been severely disciplined.

  “Why did you tell my father what happened?”

  “There was no one else I could have gone to!”

  “It was only that one time. You should have told him to give me another chance. But now it’s too late.”

  And with that, he was gone. At least, Lily thought, with Peyton on the other side of the country, she could focus on work and herself. At the department store, Richard occasionally checked in with her about the boutique and, she suspected, to see how she was doing without Peyton. Lily made no pretense that she was greatly relieved by her husband’s absence, or that she appreciated the intervention. Richard had bought her a six months’ grace period, and she would forever be grateful to him for that. As for the business side, she trusted that he knew what was best for his son and his company. Richard Reynolds and his forefathers were known to be some of the keenest business minds in New York City. They seemed to make the right moves first, always one step ahead of everyone else. That’s why R. R. Peyton’s had been the top luxury department store for over a century, and it seemed that he was willing to do just about anything to keep it that way, even if it meant taking his own son to task.

  With Peyton gone, Lily was able to relax for the first time in months. She didn’t realize before how much of a psychological toll Peyton’s behavior had been taking on her—not knowing who he was with or what he was doing when he was out at night, steeling herself for their arguments when he returned home. Although the bruises he had inflicted on her body faded, the ones on her mind did not, and she couldn’t help replaying the sight of his face—that of a stranger—just before he kicked her to the floor. She heard again the echo of the last words he said to her, that it was “too late,” with a finality that took her to the edge of despair. Peyton’s rehab did not allow phone calls, or any communication with the outside world, as part of the recovery plan, so she had no way to tell if he was getting better.

  Lily continued to go to the beautiful stone church on Fifth Ave. that she had found many years ago when in need of spiritual guidance during her fertility treatments. Sometimes, when she was listening to the voices of the choir soar underneath the arched roof, she felt like she was back in the small white church in Cumberland Falls, watching her father sing while she sat holding her mother’s hand. Many times, tears would silently roll down her face when the choir sang her father’s favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace.” The memory was filled with sadness, but her parents’ presence was stronger than ever in those moments.

  In late August, Lily planned to pay a long-overdue visit to Red Rose Farm. On impulse, she invited Richard to come with her, as thanks for trusting her with the boutique and dealing with Peyton so swiftly and decisively. Lisa was welcome to join, too, of course, but she made an excuse that she was allergic to horses, and privately Lily was glad that she would not have to spend a weekend in her most favorite place in the world with her mother-in-law. Richard would be the first person in her new family to visit the farm. She told him to bring jeans and casual clothes, and she teased that if he really wanted to look the part, to buy a pair of Frye or Durango western boots on his employee discount at the department store.

  As their private jet descended over Blue Grass Airport, over the acres of land crisscrossed by white fences and dotted with grazing Thoroughbreds, Lily laughed when she saw the expression on Richard’s face. “You’ve never flown in here, have you, Daddy Rich? Doesn’t it look like a scene out of a commercial for the best horse farms in the world?”

  Shaking his head, Richard said, “And here I am, thinking I’ve seen just about everything and been just about everywhere. I do remember flying in one day to Louisville for the Kentucky Derby with the governor of New York. We had a few mint juleps, hobnobbed with the rich and famous, watched a few fine horses run, and then headed back home.” He gave her a warm smile that few people saw these days. “But my daughter makes for much better company.”

  They were picked up in a black SUV with the words “Red Rose Farm” colorfully stenciled on the side and driven by Marcus, Ray’s son. Marcus had taken over the position of farm manager when his father had gotten too old for the job, although Ray stayed on at a little cottage on the grounds. When Marcus opened the iron gates, before them lay what for Lily had always been—and would be forever—one of the loveliest places on earth. For the worldly Richard, this would be nothing less than a revelation. Lush oak trees stood on either side of the long drive up to the white-brick country mansion. Tangled, old-fashioned red roses climbed the white fences surrounding the house, while pink-and-white hydrangeas bloomed lavishly all around the edges of the property.

  When Lily and Richard got out of the SUV, they were greeted by two chocolate Labs and a golden retriever that immediately jumped up to greet Lily. As if she’d forgotten that Richard was with her, Lily sat down on the grass and kissed and hugged the dogs with more affection than she’d shown Peyton the last few months before he’d left for rehab.

  After a bit, she looked up and said, “Oh, Daddy Rich, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce you. These are my dogs who have been with us for years. That’s Jagger and Scotch,” Lily said as she nodded toward the twin Labs, “and this gal,” shaking the retriever’s head back and forth playfully, “is Charlie,” she laughed, as the dog licked at her face, all full of excitement to see her.

  “I’m sure we’ll get properly acquainted,” Richard said with a grin as Lily’s four-legged friends led the way into the house.

  Lily walked with pride into the living room. She’d spent considerable time over the years decorating the house to reflect her tastes, and this room was no exception, with its peaceful, serene palette of dove white and accents of china blue. White, luxurious sofas and chairs were arranged invitingly in front of a large brick fireplace that had a gleaming white panel. Photographs of horses lined the walls, all Thoroughbreds that had been born and raised on
the farm, each distinct and powerful in their own way.

  Similar photos were displayed in the guest suite, which Lily had decorated with a masculine touch in mind. In the sitting room, a sparkling chandelier cast a soft light on a classic, tufted black leather sofa. The chairs were covered in a black-and-white herringbone pattern, and the drapes were a deep, royal purple.

  “Well,” Richard said, turning around the room in appraisal, “I can see where the inspiration for your boutique comes from. This is lovely, my dear.”

  Lily basked in the compliment. “Thank you. I thought you might want to get settled and have some lunch? Remember to dress casually,” she added.

  By the time Richard came downstairs, in jeans and a crisp white shirt—over his regular city wingtips—Lily had changed into riding pants and boots. They sat down at the wooden kitchen table for a simple but delicious lunch straight from the garden, starting with bowls of steaming corn chowder. Their main course was a butter lettuce salad with juicy ripe tomatoes, accompanied by freshly brewed iced tea. Richard indicated his enjoyment of the meal by patting his waistline.

  “After lunch I’ve arranged for us to take a ride around the farm on horseback,” Lily told him.

  “I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, and certainly not some fancy Thoroughbred,” Richard protested.

  “Don’t worry, the horses we’re riding today are old and gentle and probably couldn’t get up more than a trot. But they love a good walk with kind folks.”

  Out in the pasture in front of one of the stables, Marcus helped Richard up on a chestnut horse with a white mane, and he and Lily headed off. She showed him the white barns with steeples, the training rings, the old breeding sheds, the elaborate graveyard and the memorials to the famous horses buried there at the farm. It was a world he knew nothing about, but she knew like the back of her hand.

  “So where are all the racehorses?” Richard asked.

  Lily laughed. “Daddy Rich, this hasn’t been a working Thoroughbred farm since my Uncle Jeff passed away. Now we only keep rescue horses, dogs, and cats here, in addition to a staff to take care of them. I sold off a thousand acres of the farm and now we’re down to a little under nine hundred acres for ourselves. Just enough for a country home.”

  “It certainly is something,” Richard remarked, looking around at the rolling pastures that shimmered blue underneath the sunshine.

  Arriving back at the house a couple of hours later, Lily thought her father-in-law looked a little tired, so she suggested he might want to take a nap before dinner. He agreed and headed up to his suite, while she discussed some business matters with Marcus. When he entered the kitchen at six o’clock, there was a roast chicken surrounded with vegetables just coming out of the oven. Lily poured them each a glass of white wine and they ate at the massive old oak dining table. The three dogs that had greeted them on their arrival lay flopped in favored positions around the large room, Richard laughing when he remarked that their noses were nevertheless still working, presumably to detect any scraps that might fall to the hardwood floor.

  After dinner they retired to big, comfortable chairs in the conservatory, which looked out on the grounds, and watched the sun set over the bluegrass. Lily poured them a couple of neat bourbon whiskeys, exactly what one drank in Kentucky after a day on horseback. The golden liquid tasted as smooth as silk.

  “This place is wonderful, Lily,” Richard said. “Why have you been keeping it such a secret?”

  “I haven’t, really. Peyton’s just never been interested in coming down here or seeing this part of my life, I guess.”

  “Maybe a little Kentucky might be good for him,” Richard suggested.

  “I always thought we would bring our kids here,” Lily said quietly. “You know how after my parents died, my aunt and uncle took me in here. That’s why this farm is so precious to me. It represents all I have left of my past. Just like you have Peyton’s Department Store, I have Red Rose Farm. Someday I hope to share this with my children and continue the legacy of my family and this great place.”

  “I understand,” Richard assured her, and together they sat in an easy silence as the last rays of the sun slipped beneath the horizon.

  * * *

  Peyton was due to come home right before the holidays, always the busiest time for the department store. Lily tried to immerse herself in her work and not think about what might happen once he returned. Yet as the day approached, it became increasingly difficult to put the thought completely out of mind.

  The afternoon his flight was coming in, she sat on the sofa in the living room, dressed in a white cashmere sweater and tailored pants, petting Hollywood the cat in her lap and waiting for the sound of his key in the lock. She wondered if she should have gone with the town car to pick him up from the airport, but she didn’t want other people around when she saw him again for the first time. She had no idea what her reaction would be—or his, either.

  Then there he was. Standing in the doorway, Peyton was thinner than when he’d left, his face almost gaunt and his winter coat hanging off his tall frame, but he was still the most attractive man she had ever met.

  “Pey, how are—” she began, rising to greet him, but before she could say any more, he knelt before her, as if he were about to propose again, and pressed his face against her stomach.

  “I’m so sorry, Lily. Can you ever forgive me? I don’t mean for . . . just for what happened the night before I left. I’m sorry for everything . . . for all of it. Can you give me another chance?”

  Looking down, Lily buried her hands in his lustrous brown hair, and somberly rested her chin on the top on his head. “Welcome home, Pey,” she whispered.

  Chapter 15

  WHEN PEYTON REYNOLDS WALKED INTO the apartment he shared with his wife, he felt genuinely happy to be home. Lily had prepared a simple but romantic dinner for them, and as he looked across the candlelit table at his gorgeous wife, he had to admit that he had missed her. She seemed blissfully happy to see him, and he found her new sense of confidence and contentment very appealing. Afterward, they made slow, delicious love in front of the fireplace with some of his favorite jazz playing softly in the background, which Lily had selected. He looked down at her flaxen hair, her pale smooth skin, and into those beautiful aqua eyes, and asked himself what more could he ask for? Except maybe a drink and a snort of coke, but that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

  The next morning when he got to work, Peyton headed directly to his father’s office. Richard Reynolds was sitting behind his massive desk, reading the Wall Street Journal.

  When he saw his son, he didn’t close the paper, much less get up from his chair.

  “So you’re back. I hope the time away has done you some good.”

  “Yes, Dad.” Peyton said the words he’d carefully rehearsed, “It’s given me the opportunity to reflect on how important home and family are, and I’d appreciate your confidence in me. I’m ready to get back to work.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, but it’ll take you a while to catch up on things. I’ll set up several meetings for you with the senior staff. I expect you should be ready to take back your role as president again in a few months.”

  “A few months? I’m ready now!”

  “Peyton,” Richard said sternly, “you’ve been in rehab for the past six months. Before that, you were drunk and drugged most of the time—”

  Peyton opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when his father held up his right hand flatly, like someone about to take an oath.

  “Let me correct that, “Richard continued. “All of the time. You only remained president of this company because you were my son. If not, you’d have been sent packing a long time ago. Now we have the chance for a new beginning. For the time being your office will be here on the executive floor where I can keep an eye on you, but you won’t regain your title until you’re ready.”

  Peyton was dumbfounded, but when he saw his father turn to his paper again, he knew it was useless for
him to say anything. And maybe he should go, just before his seething anger, bubbling just below the surface, exploded beyond his control. If that happened, his father might just make his demotion permanent.

  “By the way,” Richard added as Peyton was leaving the room, “before you leave today, you should take a look at your wife’s boutique.”

  “The World of Lily Rose?” Peyton couldn’t keep the sneer from his voice. “How’s that coming along?”

  “All of the World of Lily Rose boutiques are best sellers, nationwide,” Richard informed him. “You are one fortunate man, son, marrying that Lily Rose. She’s an asset to the store and the family. Maybe more so than some people who are in the family. Don’t you forget that.”

  Peyton thought he might just punch a wall. He had been downgraded for the second time, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning on his first day back at work! Through clenched teeth, he said as pleasantly as possible, “Of course, Dad.”

  He turned and went straight into the women’s restroom, which luckily was unoccupied, broke the soap dispenser off the wall, and hurled it into the mirror, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Breathing hard, Peyton looked down at the mess he’d made and, as he’d done with so many other things in his life, walked away to let someone else clean it up.

  When noon came, he knew he needed an outlet, to do or feel something that made him feel like he was back in control. Lily had called earlier in the morning and suggested they have lunch together, but he made the excuse that he had too much work to catch up on. He told her he’d see her back home, walked out of the store past her boutique without looking twice at it, and took the subway uptown. After he got off, he headed toward the East River to an apartment building he had never been inside before, but in which just a couple of weeks earlier he had secured an apartment.

  He rode the elevator to the eleventh floor, stepped out, and turned left. Before he could knock on the door at the end of the hallway, it opened to reveal a young woman wearing a shiny black raincoat, sheer black nylons, and black stiletto heels.