Accidentally Yours (2 page)

“I don’t get it,” she said. “It can’t be about the money. You give away millions. Why not to this cause? Why don’t you care? Why don’t you want to fix this?”

His dark gaze bored into her, digging down to her soul. “My son is dead. Why the hell should I care about yours?”

K
ERRI DROVE
east on I90, turning off twenty miles below the summit at the exit for Songwood, the small town she and Cody had moved to three months ago.

The once-thriving mountain community had taken an economic and emotional nosedive three years ago when the large biomedical research facility run by Abram Wallace had exploded on a dark, snowy night.

A case of bad electrical wiring had caused the disaster, killing the four-member janitorial staff, two security guards and three scientists. They had all been local—leaving the two hundred other employees and the town keenly feeling their loss.

Dr. Wallace had shut down the lab and become a recluse. Songwood had tried to limp along, gathering up a few tourist dollars during the winter ski season and attempting to lure the outdoor types to hike and stay in the area during the summer.

As soon as Kerri had discovered that Dr. Wallace had been working on a cure for Gilliar’s Disease,
she’d packed up Cody and moved to the town. So far she’d been unable to meet the researcher himself, but she’d become friends with Linda, his assistant. Linda had been the one to tell her about the lack of funding.

Which was still Kerri’s problem. She rented a chair at the local beauty salon. Even on the best of weeks, her tips would never get her to the needed fifteen-million-dollar mark.

She drove into town, honked and waved at Frank, the guy who owned the gas station, and turned left at the library.

Songwood might be close to going under, but like an elegant Southern woman, she would go down looking good. The storefronts were all freshly painted, the flowers and bushes trimmed and tidy. It was the kind of town that had pumpkin festivals and hay rides. Kerri had lived in a lot of places in her life, and this was one of her favorites.

She parked behind the dry cleaners, then hurried around to the front.

“I’m late,” she announced as she entered, then handed Millie a five-dollar bill.

Millie, a gray-haired former teacher, passed over the costume. “Everything’s in place. You can change in back.”

“Thanks.”

Kerri ducked under the counter and headed for the tiny restroom at the rear of the building.

In a matter of minutes she’d replaced her black
pants and shirt with a white skating skirt, white boots, blue tights, a long-sleeved dark blue T-shirt with a sequined
W
on top of an
M
in the middle of her chest and a bright red cape. It was amazing what one could find at a decent thrift store.

She brushed the hairspray out of her hair, pulled it back into a ponytail, then grabbed her street clothes and raced to her car, her transformation from regular person to almost-mythical Wonder Mom complete.

“Thanks, Millie,” she yelled as she went.

“You give that boy a hug for me,” Millie called after her.

Kerri waved, then jumped in her car and drove the three blocks to Michelle’s house. Cody was playing with Michelle’s son, Brandon, and Kerri planned to use that as an opportunity to flaunt her extra-special powers. Well, technically she was a single mom in a cheesy outfit, but in the right light it was almost like having superpowers.

Right on time the back door opened and Michelle appeared with the family cat in her arms.

“Good luck,” Michelle whispered as she passed over the plump tabby.

“Thanks.”

Kerri stared at the sturdy tree beside the house and at the ladder Michelle had put in place. Climbing the ladder was scary enough. Climbing it with a less-than-cooperative cat in her arms could be challenging. But she needed to make an appearance as
Wonder Mom and this was the best idea she’d been able to come up with on short notice.

She stroked Tiger until the cat was purring, then started up the ladder. The purring stopped. A couple more steps and the cat began to struggle.

“Cut me a break,” Kerri whispered quietly. “If we fall you’ll land on your feet and mock me. I’ll be lying flat on my back with everyone looking up my skirt. Worse, I’ll probably break something.”

The cat seemed unimpressed by the argument and continued to try to twist away.

Kerri kept hold of her, careful to grab on to the back claws to avoid having them slice through her stomach, which only left her one hand for ladder clutching. Not a good thing.

She finally reached the thick branch more than halfway up the tree. After getting into position on the branch and doing her darnedest not to fall off, she kicked the ladder free.

“We’re committed now,” she told the unamused cat. Kerri battled very legitimate fear. What had she been thinking? A cat? A tree? Was she insane?

From inside the house came a cry of distress.

“Tiger’s gone,” Michelle said loudly, sounding desperate and worried. “Did she get out? What if she climbed the tree? She always does that, then she can’t get down. Oh, no!”

The blinds at the rear of the house opened and two boys stared out into the backyard.

Kerri took that as her cue. She pushed Tiger onto a higher branch. The cat clung on, swaying and meowing in protest.

“I’ve got you,” Kerri told the unhappy cat. “Hang on, Tiger. I’ll save you. I’m Wonder Mom and that’s what I do.”

She retrieved the cat, who glared at her and tried to swipe Kerri with her claws. But Kerri kept clear of the weapons. She lowered Tiger to the branch at her feet and watched as the disgruntled feline made her way to the ground. Then Kerri turned her attention to the trampoline carefully positioned just below the tree.

She slowly eased along the branch, grateful she’d taken her thrift-store boots into a shoe-repair shop for a gripping sole. When the limb narrowed and began to dip, she paused, sighted the trampoline, ignored the knot of fear in her stomach and jumped.

She hit the trampoline, rose in the air, managed an ungraceful flip before hitting again where she landed on her back. After catching her breath, she crawled to the side and climbed down.

She might be pushing thirty but she still had it, she told herself as she smoothed down the front of her skirt. Sort of. Too bad she’d never taken gymnastics. Training like that would have really helped to convince her son that she was Wonder Mom—a mom with amazing powers—practically a comic-book hero.

She turned to the window and waved at the two
boys, then walked toward the house. Tiger ran ahead of her, all bushy and annoyed at her part in the drama.

“We need to work on your motivation,” Kerri told the cat. “We need more fear and less annoyance. Mrs. Barclay’s cat is always willing to work with me if you’re not interested.”

Tiger ignored her and raced into the house. Michelle held open the back door and grinned. “Not bad, Wonder Mom.”

“I
HEARD ABOUT
the cat rescue,” Kerri’s friend Linda said that evening after the dinner dishes were done and Kerri had tucked Cody into bed. “Half the town thinks you’re a saint and the other half thinks you should be institutionalized.”

“I’m not a saint,” Kerri said as she leaned back against the sofa. “I’m just trying to do the best I can.”

She’d already told Linda about her disastrous meeting with Nathan King.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Kerri admitted, which wasn’t her style. She never allowed herself to even think about failing. After all, she was Wonder Mom.

The idea for the crazy name and costume had popped into her brain four years ago, shortly after Cody had been diagnosed with Gilliar’s Disease. He’d been five and in a lot of pain. He’d gotten so down, he refused to go to school or hang out with his friends.

In a move that many would consider too bizarre for words, Kerri had come up with the idea of being
Wonder Mom. If she had secret powers, they would also be passed on to her son. And if Cody had secret powers, then he could certainly conquer his disease.

With the help of some neighbors and a hydraulic jack, she’d arranged for her son to “see” her lift a car with one hand. He’d been so impressed he’d begged her to let him sign up for T-ball. Over the years she’d figured out a costume, a logo and had made regular appearances doing the seemingly impossible.

She didn’t know if it was the whole Wonder Mom persona or just good luck, but Cody’s disease had progressed more slowly than expected. If looking like an idiot was helping, she was happy to do it every day.

“What about what Tim mentioned?” Linda reached for her glass of wine. “Say it’s happened and maybe it will.”

“A little clarity would have been nice,” Kerri murmured. “All I can come up with is that he was suggesting I announce Nathan King agreed to give the money.”

“Why not?”

Linda was an attractive brunette in her late forties. She’d spent twenty years working with Abram Wallace in the research facility in town and Kerri had come to rely on her intelligence and practical sense. She had met her when Linda had come to her with a hair emergency.

“Would it work?” Kerri asked more to herself than Linda. “Can I do that? Lie?”

Linda smiled. “It won’t be the first time. It’s not like you actually had the references you claimed to have to get that restaurant job.”

“I know, but the reference thing would fall in the white-lie category. Is announcing a donation that hasn’t been made illegal? I’m all Cody has. If I were to go to jail…” She opened her mouth, then closed it. Somewhere deep inside her brain a light went on.

She straightened. “I’m having an Oprah ‘aha’ moment,” she said, hardly daring to think the whole thing through. Was it possible? Could she pull it off?

“I have letters,” she told her friend. “Form letters from King’s company. So I could scan in the letterhead and then write a different letter saying he’s giving us the money. I give that to the local paper. They get all excited, word goes out to the wire service and voilà, the whole world knows.”

Linda grinned. “It could work. And the jail threat?”

“That’s the great part. Do you really think a big-time developer is going to put the mother of a sick kid in jail? If he tried, there has to be some sleazy lawyer willing to take on my case. Think of the publicity. Worst-case scenario, Nathan King backs out of the donation, then someone else may step forward.”

Linda leaned forward and pulled a folder out of her purse. “I don’t think he’ll be backing out. I did a little research of my own. Nathan King is trying to build those luxury high-rise towers on Puget Sound.”

Kerri wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, yeah. Million-plus-dollar condos and upscale shopping and restaurants. In my next life I’ll buy one.”

“He’s getting a lot of resistance from city government. You’ve only been living here a few months, but I’ve been in the Seattle area all my life. Nathan King has made a lot of enemies. He’s not well liked. Really bad publicity could ruin his chances of getting his project through.”

Hope burned hot and bright in Kerri’s chest. “He couldn’t afford to put me in jail.”

“Probably not.”

“I would represent every little person he’s ever stepped on in his quest to amass his fortune.”

“Exactly.”

“I like it.”

The two women clinked wineglasses.

A
FTER FINISHING
his breakfast, Nathan King put down the
Wall Street Journal
and opened the folder of clippings that had been left with his paper. Every morning he reviewed what the newspapers had said about him the previous day.

In his current battle for zoning and funding, press reports were a necessary evil.

He flipped through copies of articles about his various businesses, an op-ed piece on the horrors of luxury high-rise construction, a short report on the wire about his plans to contribute fifteen million
toward research on Gilliar’s Disease and an interview with a pro-environment reporter who had twisted his every response to make him sound both cruel and stupid. If they—

He carefully set his coffee on the table, then flipped back to the previous page.

There weren’t many details. Just a statement about the donation and a couple of sentences that research would resume at the facility in Songwood, Washington.

Nathan already had out his cell phone. He hit the speed dial for Jason Hardy.

“You’re getting an early start,” Jason said when he answered. “What’s up?”

“Someone is trying to blackmail me into giving her fifteen million dollars.”

“What? Who?”

“I don’t know her name. Some psychotic waitress who ambushed me at lunch last week. She wants me to donate to some cause.” There was no point in telling Jason what cause. Nathan never discussed his son’s illness and subsequent death with anyone. Not even his closest friend and attorney. “She even tried bribing my chauffeur to get to me. She’s crazy. I want her stopped.”

“And people think being incredibly rich is trouble free,” Jason said easily. “Was she working at The Grill?”

“As a server. A bad one.”

“I’ll start there. Give me until the end of the day
and I’ll get you a full profile. So how’s she blackmailing you?”

“She issued a press release on our letterhead saying that I would personally be donating the money to some research facility in Songwood.”

“The money goes there rather than to her?” Jason asked.

“She’s got a sick kid. The head guy there is working on the kid’s disease. She wants a miracle.”

“Well, sure. Is it fatal?”

Nathan refused to think about the slow and painful death that claimed children with Gilliar’s Disease. “Is that compassion I hear in your voice?”

Jason chuckled. “Sorry. I forgot myself. You’d think law school would have beaten that out of me. I’ll call you later.”

T
HE
H
AIR
B
ARN WAS
like any one of a thousand small-town beauty salons. It was bright, cheerful, and the source of all the local gossip.

As Kerri wove the pointed end of her comb through Amber Whitney’s dark blond hair, she listened carefully to the talk all around.

“My Frank says they’ll have to hire at least fifty new scientists,” Millie of the dry cleaning store was saying. “That will take some time. But they’re going to be well paid, so if you want to sell, this is the time. All those research people will need housing. Sure, a few of them will live in Seattle or North Bend and
drive up the mountain, but plenty will settle here.” She sighed. “It’ll be like it was, when the town was thriving. It’s good for business.”

“I wonder how many other people they’ll be hiring,” Millie’s friend said. “Secretaries, janitorial staff, office workers. Maybe some basic lab techs. My Denny would much rather work there than go back to logging.”

The town buzzed with news of the donation. It was all anyone had talked about ever since the press release had hit the wire. Kerri swallowed back the knot of guilt in her throat and kept weaving Amber’s hair.

Lying to the town was a repercussion she hadn’t thought through. Everyone was so excited by the prospect of the lab opening up again.

She didn’t want to hurt these people. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She’d been so intent on simply getting the funding for Dr. Wallace that she hadn’t considered there were other lives on the line. If Nathan King didn’t come through…

He had to, she reminded herself. Just that morning there’d been an article in the Seattle paper about how Nathan’s charity work should be considered when it came to giving him the zoning he wanted. If he was exposed as a man who went back on his word, maybe he wouldn’t get his towers. Of course, if she were exposed as a liar and a fraud, he might get the sympathy vote.

“Hey, Mom.”

She turned and saw Cody at the front of the salon.
Most days she tried to be done before he got out of school, but Thursdays she worked late.

“Hey, kiddo. How was your day?”

“Okay.”

Cody balanced on his crutches. Kerri was pleased to see that the new style, with the bracing around his forearm, seemed to be helping his balance. That and the fact that she’d finally cleaned out his backpack. It had gotten so heavy, she’d been afraid he would fall on his back like a turtle and be unable to get up.

“Be right back,” Kerri told Amber, then crossed to her son.

Cody was on the short side for his age group—not a surprise, considering his condition—but smart, with that emotionally mature edge sick kids seem to get. At nine, he’d reached the point where he was uncomfortable being kissed by his mom in public. Kerri had yet to reach the point where she didn’t care.

“Math test,” she said as she pulled him close and dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Tell me you kicked fraction butt.”

“They’re all totally kicked,” he said as he squirmed away, then smiled at her. “I missed one.”

“One? One? Oh, man. I have to disown you now.”

“Leave me on the curb for some stranger to take me away?” he asked with a grin.

“Absolutely. Someone who doesn’t care about kids who aren’t perfect. You missed one. I may never recover from the disappointment.”

“Spaghetti with garlic bread.”

She opened her eyes wide. “Excuse me? Young men who miss one question on their math tests do not get to demand things like spaghetti with garlic bread for dinner.”

“It was an A, Mom. You know missing one is still an A.”

“Are you kidding? An A? What is this world coming to? I’m appalled. And you know how I get when I’m appalled.”

She reached for him. He ducked away, but the crutches hindered him. Kerri dove in and began tickling him. She was careful to stay away from his ribs. Like all his bones, they were fragile.

He giggled and squirmed, then relaxed in her arms.

“I’ll make spaghetti,” she murmured into his hair. “Then we’ll tackle the spelling words. You’ll wait for me at Brandon’s?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Try to keep Tiger out of that tree, okay? I’m on a Wonder Mom break for the next couple of days.”

Cody looked up at her. “I will, Mom. See you later.”

She was supposed to let him go and she would…in a second. But staring into his eyes like that, she was reminded of Cody’s father. Cody was so much like her late husband. It was a unique combination of pleasure and heartbreaking pain.

“Be good,” she said.

He nodded and left the salon.

“D
ON’T BE STUPID
,” Jason Hardy said. “I’m telling you this based on my personal experience as your lawyer. You pay me three hundred dollars an hour for that experience, Nathan. So listen.”

“I’m listening.”

“No, you’re not. If you were still listening, you’d be back in the city. Instead you’re driving up I90 by yourself. I don’t want you confronting that woman alone.”

“That woman” was one Kerri Sullivan. A single mom and hairdresser. Nearly every detail of her insignificant life was listed in the folder next to him on the passenger seat of his Mercedes.

She’d been an average student in high school, a cheerleader. Her parents had been killed when she’d been fairly young and she’d been raised by her maternal grandmother. She’d gone to community college, but had dropped out after less than a year to go to beauty school. She’d met and married Brian Sullivan. Brian had been in the army and died when his truck had overturned. Eight and a half months later, she’d given birth to her only child.

Cody Sullivan, age nine. His Gilliar’s Disease had been diagnosed when he’d been five. He’d lived longer than most and was only now entering the truly degenerative stage.

In the past four years Kerri had lived in Texas and Minnesota. She supported them by working in beauty salons. Her location choices weren’t random.
She moved to where the research was being done. She’d run out of options, until she discovered Dr. Abram Wallace’s work in Songwood. She’d moved there three months ago.

“I won’t let her blackmail me,” he told Jason. The built-in speakerphone in his car picked up his low voice.

“So what are you going to do? Threaten her? That’s
my
job, and let me say, for the record, I resent you trying to take the fun out of it.” Jason sighed. “I mean it, Nathan. You’re going to get angry and say some things you shouldn’t.”

“She thinks she’s trapped me. She thinks I can’t back out because I’ll look bad. Who the hell does she think she is?”

“A desperate mom?” Jason asked. “You have nothing to say to her.”

“I’m going to make her stop. No one holds me hostage.”

“You’re going to make the situation worse. You have a very competent staff. We want to do our job. Let us deal with her. You don’t need any more negative publicity.”

“I want her ass in jail,” Nathan muttered.

“Not going to happen. Let’s imagine that headline. She’s got the sympathy factor. I don’t like what she’s doing, either, but let’s be logical.”

Logic? Nathan wasn’t interested. Whether it was a well thought-out plan or just dumb luck, Kerri
Sullivan had gotten plenty of play from her bogus statement. He’d actually been contacted by someone at the research facility in Songwood, asking about the particulars for the donation. They were, she’d informed him, ready to begin hiring. Two other parents of kids with Gilliar’s Disease had also tried to get through to him. Just to thank him, their messages had said.