by Brenda Novak
She held her breath as the phone began to ring.
“Rosalind Sands International.”
“Is Ms. Sands there?” She’d been calling her mother at the same office, the one with prints from the Conde Nast Archives covering the reception area and furniture by Jonathan Adler throughout, as far back as she could remember. But the level of formality never changed. The company didn’t respect “non-creatives” as her mother called them, so they didn’t pay the receptionist enough to keep the position filled for very long. That meant the voice on the end of the line was just that—a voice.
Today, it was a man’s voice. “May I tell Ms. Sands who’s calling?”
“Her daughter, Reagan.”
A pause ensued, during which Reagan assumed he was checking on her mother’s availability. “She has an appointment coming up soon, but I’ll see if I can catch her,” he said, and with that Pavarotti started singing “Che gelida manina” from La Bohème while she was put on hold.
If her mother was too busy to talk, Reagan would have the perfect excuse to procrastinate a little longer.
But if she didn’t get through to her now, Rosalind could call back at a far less convenient time.
It wasn’t easy to decide which way she wanted it to go—
“Reagan, is everything okay?”
Apparently, the receptionist had managed to catch Rosalind, who sounded like she always did—in charge. But what she’d said caused Reagan’s heart to skip a beat. Why wouldn’t everything be okay? Had her mother tried to call her at Edison & Curry and been informed that she no longer worked there?
“It’s...fine,” she replied tentatively. “Why?”
“You don’t usually call me in the middle of a workday.”
Reagan let her breath seep out slowly. She didn’t call her mother in the middle of a workday because she knew she’d be interrupting, and she’d been trained as a child not to demand her mother’s attention when she was trying to accomplish something. “I’m in California right now. It’s three hours earlier here, lunchtime.”
“California! What are you doing there?”
Reagan had planned to say she’d taken a spontaneous trip across the country with friends. But while she was breaking the bad news, maybe she should go ahead and tell Rosalind about Serenity and Lorelei. Get it all over with at once. The distraction might even put Rosalind on the defensive for a change. And if she and her sisters wanted answers about how they were related it was entirely possible Reagan would have to talk to her mother about it eventually.
Or Serenity would have to ask Charlotte.
Feeling as though broaching the subject was becoming inevitable, Reagan threw back her shoulders and plunged in. “That’s kind of a complicated story. Do you have time for it?”
“I’ll take the time.”
Her mother rarely responded so positively. More often, Reagan heard, “This can’t wait until later?”
“After you started having heart problems and your doctors mentioned that you might need an operation, I wondered if I had any genetic weaknesses I should be aware of. I’ve only got information about one side of my family tree, after all, so I have no idea if I’m susceptible to diabetes or cancer or any other disease on my father’s side.”
“So...”
“I had my DNA tested.”
“You did.”
Reagan was listening carefully, trying to detect what her mother was feeling. Fear? Dread? Ambivalence? But it was impossible to determine from so few words. Her mother’s voice could sound clipped even when she wasn’t upset. “Yes.”
“And?”
“Nothing serious came up. Except—”
“Don’t tell me you took that test hoping to find your father’s family.”
Her mother had always been smart. She’d already caught on.
“In a way, I guess I did,” Reagan said, although she hadn’t cared as much about her father and his family when she took the test as she did now that she was beginning to wonder if her mother had been lying to her all along.
“Why would you do that?” her mother asked. “What’s the point?”
“The point is I know nothing about my father and his side of the family. On my birth certificate it gives my birthplace as Cincinnati, so you must’ve lived there before moving to New York. I’m guessing that’s where the two of you met, but you never talk about it.”
“That is where we met. It’s where I was born, too. But what difference does it make in the here and now?”
It wasn’t easy to keep pushing her mother; it was like swimming upstream, against a forceful current. “Why did you decide to leave?”
“After your father died, there was nothing there for me. I wanted to be a fashion designer. Of course I would come here.”
“What about his family? Are they still in Cincinnati?”
“How would I know? They’ve never been supportive—of you or me.”
Rosalind hated to talk about these things so much that Reagan couldn’t help wondering why. “Is there a reason they weren’t?” Had her mother gotten pregnant out of wedlock? Been artificially inseminated so she could have a child on her own? Slept with a married man and never told him she was carrying his baby—the way Reagan would be tempted to do if she was pregnant with Drew’s baby? What?
“They didn’t like me, I guess. After I moved here, we just...drifted apart. I lost contact with them years ago.”
Was that the truth—or a cover-up? It was difficult to tell. “So you have no idea where they live now? Do you have their last known address?”
“Reagan, I’ve got an appointment. Can we talk about this later?”
When? Reagan got the impression that even if Rosalind wasn’t lying she’d be careful to avoid this subject in the future. She expected Reagan to accept what she’d been told without question, simply because that was what Rosalind dictated—and Rosalind always called the shots.
But, for once, Reagan wasn’t willing to let her have her way. “You asked me why I was in California. You don’t want to hear the answer before you go?”
“I already know the answer. You’re chasing ghosts.”
“Not ghosts, Mom. After I took that DNA test, I received a notice that I have two half sisters. I’m with them—at a cabin in Lake Tahoe.”
A tense silence followed. Then her mother said, “So you went to California to find them, without telling me?”
How could Rosalind expect Reagan to confide anything in her? Reagan felt as though she knew her half sisters better than she did her mother—already. “I suspected you wouldn’t be supportive.”
“Whether you’re right about that or not, we should’ve discussed it before you took off for the opposite coast.”
Reagan preferred not to get caught up in a debate about that. She was thirty-five, old enough to do as she pleased. “Who are they, Mom? How is it that they even exist?”
“How should I know? This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you.”
“You don’t think... I mean, my father wouldn’t have...”
“Cheated on me? He must’ve, right?”
Her mother didn’t seem too hurt by the idea. But then, it had been a long time since he’d been around. Did Rosalind no longer care?
“How? When?” Reagan demanded. “Serenity, Lorelei and I are all close in age, and yet we’re from different parts of the country. You don’t find that strange?”
“Your father sometimes traveled for work.”
“You told me he was a commercial real estate broker. Why would that necessitate travel to different states?”
“He had to meet investors.”
“That’s the answer?”
“What other answer could there be?”
Was her mother being evasive? Why wasn’t she more humiliated, embarrassed? A woman as proud and beautiful a
s Rosalind would hate to admit that her husband had strayed. Rosalind wanted to pretend she was somehow above the foibles that brought suffering to everyone else. “So you didn’t know about these other children he might’ve had.”
“No. He didn’t make it a point to tell me. Why would he?”
“Wouldn’t Serenity’s and Lorelei’s mothers have demanded child support?”
“Not necessarily. Or maybe he gave them some money here and there, but that sort of thing never came to my attention.”
That comment, too, sent out a warning signal. Nothing slipped past Rosalind. But he’d died not quite two years after Reagan was born, so there wasn’t a lot of time for anyone to pursue him legally. And maybe Rosalind hadn’t been as diligent and cautious back then... “But that means Serenity’s mother must have cheated, too. And Serenity will find that hard to believe. Her parents have always been madly in love. She was born into the most perfect family you can imagine.”
“More perfect than yours, you mean.”
“More...complete,” she hedged.
“It’s not my fault he died, Reagan.”
“I’m not blaming you for that. I’m just saying that Serenity grew up believing the man who raised her was her father.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe her mother felt it was better that she not know. Her mother could’ve kept it a secret from both of them.”
“That’s it?”
“What more can I say?”
“You don’t seem to be the least bit curious about Serenity and Lorelei.”
“I’m not. And if I were you, I wouldn’t waste time worrying about the past.”
Reagan, who felt she was always trying to mitigate her mother’s irritation, felt a strong dose of irritation herself. “I’ve never had siblings. Now I have two. And you’re acting as if...as if it’s no big deal?”
“I have an appointment,” she repeated. “I have to go. We’ll talk about it when you get back, okay?”
“I’m not coming back.” She spoke quickly to catch her mother. “Not until the end of August.”
There was a long pause. “What about your job?”
Downstairs, she could hear voices, louder than before. Finn must’ve arrived.
“I don’t work at the agency anymore.”
“Why not?”
Dropping her head in her hand, she massaged her forehead as she sifted through all the various excuses she’d thought up—that she was tired of working her life away, that the partners at Edison & Curry were suddenly holding her back, that she wanted to do something else with her life.
So she had no idea why she suddenly blurted out the truth. Maybe it was because she was tired of trying not to set her mother off or lose her approval. Or maybe it was that so much of her life was already unraveling she felt a certain reckless abandon—the desire to go ahead and smash the whole damn thing. “Because I had sex with my boss right on his desk. But everyone makes mistakes. Right, Mom?”
She disconnected before she realized she was going to do it. Then, her blood rushing in her ears, she stared down at her phone. She’d never hung up on her mother before.
“Shit,” she muttered. Apparently, all kinds of things were changing.
She was changing. And she had no idea if she’d even recognize herself when it was over.
Especially if she was pregnant.
The possibility that she might be expecting a child was the only bombshell she hadn’t told Rosalind.
It was also the one that would upset her the most.
17
lorelei
FINN SMELLED GOOD—woodsy with a hint of...citrus? Lorelei couldn’t remember ever finding a scent so appealing. Every time she passed him as they carried the food out to the deck, she wished she could stop, put her nose up against the warm skin at the opening of his polo shirt and breathe deeply.
She was obviously developing a crush on him, which wasn’t good. The last thing she needed was more pressure on her marriage. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. She loved the timbre of his voice, his ready smile, the twinkle in those unusual amber-colored eyes when someone said something amusing.
And she found the casual way he approached life soothing. Just being around him helped relieve some of the angst that gripped her whenever she thought of Mark or Francine.
So, regardless of anything else, she was glad she’d met Finn. After putting all of her effort and energy exclusively toward her home and family for ten years, she felt as though she’d been digging a tunnel—burrowing a little deeper each day—and she was only now returning to the surface to poke her head out and take a look at the world she’d left behind.
Maybe she should’ve crawled out of that tunnel sooner. Maybe she could’ve prevented what’d happened between Mark and Francine if she’d been less concerned with filling a role and more concerned with what her husband was thinking and feeling and doing.
Mark had obviously found his life too unexciting. And as much as she hated to admit it, she could be partly responsible. She’d forgotten to change things up now and then, search out new opportunities, be flexible. If he hadn’t done what he’d done—ripped their marriage apart at the seams—it was possible she would’ve spent the next ten, twenty or even thirty years, if not the rest of her life, continuing to dig that same tunnel.
The weird thing was that she’d considered herself happy.
Now—and this was an uncomfortable thought—she wondered if she’d just felt safe. Safe by itself would be such an improvement over the insecurity she’d felt as a child it was entirely possible she’d believed their relationship was strong simply because there’d never been any real blowups—until Francine.
Was it possible their marriage had gone stagnant, and she’d been too busy doing her part as a good wife and mother to notice?
“His fever is gone?” Serenity was talking to Finn about Davis as they sat down to wait for Reagan.
“Yes. He should be here on Sunday.”
Lorelei helped Lucy scoot her chair closer to the table. “That’s wonderful.”
“It wasn’t looking good there for a minute,” he admitted. “Instead of him coming here, I thought I’d have to go home, at least for a while. But when he woke up this morning, his temperature was back to normal.”
Serenity handed them each a napkin. “Did they give him antibiotics?”
“They did. He was resistant to whichever one they used first, so they switched to a new one.”
“Thank God this one is working.”
One of the French doors opened and Reagan hurried out onto the deck. “Sorry, I was on the phone.”
She seemed flustered.
“Everything okay?” Serenity asked, but Lorelei could plainly see that it wasn’t. The way Reagan sank into her chair, as though having it there to catch her came as a relief, suggested she wasn’t feeling very steady on her feet.
“I’m not sure.”
Lucy eyed her critically. “Are you crying, Aunt Reagan?”
“No.” The edge to her voice indicated she was on the verge, however. “I like it when you call me Aunt Reagan,” she added, attempting a smile. “That makes me feel a lot better.”
Lorelei peered more closely at her. “What’s going on?”
“I just hung up on my mother.”
Serenity, who’d stood and grabbed the pitcher of iced tea as soon as Reagan appeared, waited before actually pouring it into their glasses. “Did you say hung up on—or hung up with?”
“On,” she clarified with a pained expression. “I’ve now committed the unpardonable sin—which is the cherry on top of all the other crap I’ve done to ruin my life in the last two weeks.”
“You told her about quitting your job?” Lorelei asked.
“I told her about everything.”
“Not Drew...” Serenity said.
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“Who’s Drew?” Finn asked.
“My married boss,” Reagan explained before he could ask if Drew was a husband or boyfriend.
“Uh-oh,” he said.
“Exactly,” Reagan agreed.
“What did you say about Drew?” Lorelei asked.
“I told her I had s-e-x with my boss, quit my job and took a DNA test that revealed I have two half sisters.”
“What’s s-e-x?” Lucy asked, clearly perplexed.
“Nothing you need to worry about for quite some time, little one,” Finn said, jumping in. He gestured at the pasta, salad and garlic bread in the center of the table. “How about all this food. Was your mommy the one who made it?”
“Yes!”
Lucy’s enthusiasm for Lorelei’s efforts brought Lorelei a warm feeling despite her concern for Reagan.
“And do you think it’ll taste as good as it looks?” Finn asked.
When Lorelei’s daughter nodded vigorously, he said, “Why don’t we see about that?” and scooped up a small serving of pasta for Lucy while Lorelei and Serenity continued to gape at Reagan.
What had gotten into Reagan? Lorelei wondered. With the way she’d dreaded telling her mother about her job, Lorelei hadn’t expected her to take the conversation that far. “How did she react?”
“To which part?” Reagan replied morosely.
“Why don’t we start with what happened with Drew.”
“I didn’t give her much of a chance to react to that one. I blurted it out right before I hung up.”
Lorelei and Serenity exchanged a glance.
“Sounds like the telephone equivalent of shooting up the place,” Serenity mumbled.
“It was,” Reagan said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“How did she react to hearing about us?” Lorelei asked.
“As if it means nothing, no big deal. Which is probably why I got angry. I wanted her to be transparent, to be real, to just talk to me for a change.”
Serenity rested the pitcher on the table. “You were hoping for some honesty.”
“And I was frustrated that I couldn’t get it.”
