Caitlin's Choice (18 page)

“Caitlin?”

Her head shot up. It was the last voice she expected to hear. Leslie stood in the hall outside the nursery. Her arrogance had apparently deserted her. She hovered in the doorway, looking pale and sullen—and, amazingly, sober.

“Haven’t you done enough damage?” Caitlin asked angrily.

Leslie slumped her shoulders and averted her gaze. “I wouldn’t have hurt him.”

Her words sounded sincere, but Caitlin wasn’t in a forgiving mood. “Oh, you wouldn’t have? Well, you might not have meant any harm, but anything could have happened. You could have killed him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry doesn’t cut it this time. He’s four months old. What the hell did he ever do to you to make you hate him so much?”

“It’s not Tyler I resent. It’s Andrew.”

Caitlin snorted. “Andrew? He gives you everything.”

“You try living like that,” Leslie said bitterly. “I don’t want him to give me everything. I wanted to work. He wouldn’t give me a job but he gave Erik one.”

“Erik went to college and sank his own money into the company so they could expand.”

Leslie’s eyes rounded in surprise. She genuinely didn’t know. “I didn’t ask to start as a vice president. He wouldn’t even consider an office job.”

Caitlin laughed. “You don’t know your brother at all, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The only way to get anywhere with Andrew is to be more stubborn that he is. If you don’t fight, how does he know you really want it?”

“Andrew’s pigheaded. He doesn’t back down.”

How well I know that, Caitlin thought. “You’re not helpless, Leslie. If he won’t give you a job, then go somewhere else. He’s not the only boss in the world.”

Leslie stood tall and appeared to be gathering her courage. Or swallowing her pride. “Is that offer about the modeling position still open?”

During the lengthy pause, Leslie fidgeted nervously. Caitlin wasn’t sure Leslie deserved her help, but a job would keep her out of trouble. For Andrew’s sake, she would help Leslie. If a family could be salvaged, it was always worth the effort.

“It’s hard work and it’s not glamorous. It could take a long time before you’re ever picked for a fashion shoot. Most times you’re little more than a human dummy.”

“Well, I do excel at that,” Leslie said with biting honesty. “I’m really sorry about Tyler. Is he all right?”

Caitlin pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “He’s a bit jumpy. It will take a while before he’s back to normal.”

“Will you talk to Andrew for me? Tell him I’m sorry?”

“No. You have to do that yourself,” Caitlin said. “But wait a couple of days. Right now he’s angrier than I am.”

“I know. He threw me out—not that I blame him. My own friends won’t take me in.”

Caitlin stroked Tyler’s cheek to keep him awake a few more minutes. She had a long drive ahead and she hoped he would sleep through most of it.

“You know, Leslie, the doctor told your brother to avoid stress. That didn’t help him.”

“I didn’t know he was sick.”

“He’s not sick, and I’d like him to stay that way. And another thing. If you want help from me, then I want something from you. You have a drinking problem. Do something before it takes over your life.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but why do you care?”

“Because you’re Tyler’s aunt.  Once I leave here, he’ll be visiting on his own. I don’t want to be scared to death every time he’s with his father.”

Leslie regarded her curiously. “You really are leaving?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Well, yes. The way Andrew talks, I got the impression ... I mean . . . my mother thinks ...”

“Let’s not discuss your mother.” Caitlin cut her off. “I know what she thinks of me.”

“I guess we both made our positions painfully obvious.”

More than obvious, Caitlin silently agreed. Perhaps in Leslie’s case, there was hope for a change. Once Tyler fell asleep, she lifted him away from her breast and straightened her blouse. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

“You want a job. My boss needs a model. Let’s go before he fills the position.”

Leslie glanced down at her powder blue shorts and top. “Shouldn’t I change first?”

“Not unless you want him to think you have something unsightly to hide. And a word of advice. Play up the Texan accent you try to hide. Texas beauties are the rage this season.”

“You’re being very generous under the circumstances.”

Caitlin smiled broadly. “No, I’m not. Marc is a tyrant to work for. I’m going to enjoy seeing you sweat.”

When they arrived in the city, the design center was bustling with activity. Photographers were everywhere, preparing a shoot for a mail-order catalog. Caitlin had a hard time pulling Leslie away. There was a gleam in her eyes that Caitlin had never seen before.

They finally made their way to Marc’s office. He gave Caitlin a small hug and tweaked Tyler’s nose as he slept in her arms.

“Marc, this is Leslie, the woman I’ve been telling you about She’s here about the modeling position.”

“Turn around,” he ordered.

Leslie gazed questioningly at Caitlin. She made a circular motion with her finger and Leslie turned a slow pirouette.

“What size is she?” he asked Caitlin, ignoring Leslie’s presence.

“Four
, I’d guess.”

Marc placed his hand under Leslie’s chin and turned her head from side to side, studying the perfect angles and contours of her face. “You’d better slow down, kid, or you’re gonna age real fast.  How much do you weigh?”

“One hundred and two,” Leslie barely whispered.

“If you gain one pound, you’re out.”

“Does that mean I got the job?” she asked hopefully.

Marc nodded and pointed for her to take a seat. He towered over her with a grim expression plastered to his face.

“That means you are expected to be here at eight o’clock and you stay until three whether or not you are needed that day. Any outside jobs have to be done on your own time. If you are lucky enough to be chosen for a catalog or a showing, you will be here at six a.m. for makeup and hair. I don’t care if your brother is some big millionaire. We don’t have any princesses here.”

Caitlin had to stifle a hoot of laughter. She would bet that no one had ever talked to Leslie Sinclair in that tone of voice. And she just grinned as if Marc were groveling at her feet. While he was reading her the riot act, one of the photographers burst through the door. Marc glanced up and scowled.

“What is it, Anton?”

“We’re two hours behind. Where’s the damned redhead?” Anton gazed at Leslie and pushed his fingers through her long hair. “Alleluia. A redhead who won’t have roots in three weeks. Why isn’t she in makeup?”

Leslie gestured helplessly.

“Answer the man,” Mark said.

Her eyes rounded in panic. To see the unflappable Miss Sinclair at a loss for words made the trip a success for Caitlin. Leslie wasn’t even aware that she had fallen into an opportunity most girls out there would die for.

“Don’t look at me.” Caitlin said. “If you want to work, you better get your rear end out there before Anton changes his mind. He’s a temperamental cuss.”

“Are you here to work or aren’t you?” Anton grunted at her.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Leslie sputtered out.

“Your job is to look pretty and move when we tell you. It ain’t brain surgery, lady.”

She raised her head and gathered that Sinclair arrogance Caitlin was so familiar with. “Are you staying?”

Caitlin shook her head. “No. You’ll have to find your own way home.”

Leslie waltzed out the door without saying goodbye, but for once her lack of manners was forgivable. Caitlin and Marc burst out laughing at the same time.

“I think we scared the hell out of her. But she’ll go places if she’s ambitious. You always could pick ’em, Caitlin.”

“Yeah. I could pick ’em. I just wasn’t one of ’em. I waited two years to get a catalog shoot myself,” she complained.

“Redheaded beauties are hard to come by. I had three dark-haired models back then who wanted it more than you did. That’s the nature of the business. And being in the right place at the right time. Some people are born lucky.” He grinned and glanced at Tyler, sleeping soundly. “And some get pregnant on the first try.”

“That’s a cheap shot, even for you.”

“How’s life with Tyler’s daddy?”

Caitlin rose to leave. “You just took care of one of my biggest problems,” she said. “Now, she’s yours. Revenge is sweet.” Caitlin laughed herself silly all the way to the car.

THIRTEEN

Andrew sat on the bed in his motel room and pulled the file from his briefcase. He had to give Russell credit. The report was so complete that Andrew could only marvel at the private investigator’s contacts throughout the country. Would it be
enough to convince Caitlin’s family of her innocence?

The newspaper reports had been damning, but then no one ever claimed that the press was unbiased. While the loss of thirty thousand dollars in a real-estate swindle wouldn’t even make the front page in New York City, in Weldon, West Virginia, it had been the headline for two weeks straight.

SIMON REED DISAPPEARS WITH 30K. LOCAL GIRL SOUGHT FOR QUESTIONING DID SHE OR DIDN’T SHE?

D.A SAYS EVIDENCE DOESN’T SUPPORT INDICTMENT OF MS. ADAMS

That didn’t stop the people of Weldon from speculating on the guilt of Caitlin Adams. The consensus seemed to be that she was in South America living off her fortune with Simon Reed. Thirty thousand dollars, a fortune? Were they for real?  Obviously so, for Caitlin had never set foot in her hometown again.

When he had first read the report, he understood why Caitlin had been reluctant to open up to him. The parallels to his family’s past might seem striking. However, while Garret had knowingly gambled with money that wasn’t his own, Caitlin had been nothing more than an unwitting pawn.

Simon Reed, alias Simon Raymond, was currently serving seven to ten years in the Ossining Correctional Facility for embezzlement and fraud. Several other charges had to be dropped because the statute of limitations had run out.

Would the fact that Simon Reed had been indicted in seven other states both before and after the incident in Weldon be enough to convince Caitlin’s father that Reed had acted alone? Andrew hoped so. Until she could make peace with her family, she would never be at peace with herself. Tyler only made her painfully aware of what she was missing.

He put the file back in the briefcase and took out a map. This morning, when he had come upon Caitlin packing up the wedding dress, she had unknowingly supplied the last piece of information he needed: the exact address of her father’s house. He had offered to drop it at the post office and was out the door before Caitlin could protest.

Anger coursed through him when he saw Maggie’s return address in the corner. Countless hours of love and hard work had gone into that dress, and Caitlin couldn’t even take credit for it. At three o’clock, he decided to leave for the house. He drove through the small towns in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains, unable to enjoy the scenery. Patches of green flashed by at sixty miles an hour, but his mind remained focused on his meeting with William Adams.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up in front of the house. He was unable to believe that the tiny wooden structure had been home to seven people at one time. No wonder they thought thirty thousand dollars was a fortune. He took his briefcase and the box and walked to the front door.   The porch step creaked and he actually jumped. Andrew Sinclair, who had never been scared of a single thing in his life, was acting as if he were about to enter the Bates Motel. He wiped a sweaty palm against his suit jacket and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

A woman in her late fifties—Caitlin’s mother, he supposed—answered the door. Gray streaks spattered her dark hair, but her eyes were the same clear green as Caitlin’s.

“May I help you?” she said distrustfully.

“My name is Andrew Sinclair. I’m Maggie’s brother-in-law. “

The woman stared blankly, then smiled with recognition. “You mean Margaret. I’m sorry. We weren’t expecting you. Margaret never mentioned . . .”

“She didn’t know I was coming.”

She opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter. He was ushered into a small living room. The furnishings had seen better days, but the house was immaculate.

“I’m sorry if this is an inconvenient time, Mrs. Adams.”

“Not at all. Have a seat.” She pointed to a chair. “And call me Mary, please.”

Andrew sat down, but rose immediately when a young woman entered the room. He shook his head in surprise. These Adams sisters certainly did look alike.

“This is my daughter Sissy,” Mary said. “Mr. Sinclair is Margaret’s brother-in-law.”