Driving Heat (18 page)

“Thanks for agreeing to speak with me.”

“Ha! Agreeing? That’s a stretch.” Cynthia looked at the closed door to one of the clubhouse’s private rooms, imagining how it would feel to do as she desired—introduce the freshly poured lemon water to Stewart Monihan’s face before running out of the country club screaming like a banshee.
The nerve of this man is beyond belief.
Here she’d gone looking for her father and found Jay’s dad instead. There were so many thoughts and emotions running through her that the chance of keeping it together was fifty/fifty at best.

“Okay, you’re right. When the manager stopped to chat, I knew it was my opportunity to finally have the conversation that’s long overdue.”

Cynthia’s body fairly shook with anger. She clasped her hands together, speaking through lips that barely moved. Back straight, chin angled, anyone watching would see graceful poise. Another story if they were listening. “The only reason I am sitting here is to gather my composure because I don’t know what would happen if I moved, but I am fairly certain it would involve a physical altercation. In fact, moving that silverware may not be a bad idea.”

Stewart laughed. Cynthia did not. His smile disappeared. She eyed the stark white linen napkin wrapped around a four-piece set of sterling silver flatware. He deftly reached over and pulled it to his side.

“You have every right to everything you’re feeling. I just ask for five minutes. After that, if you still feel the way you do right now, I’ll never bother you again.”

Cynthia looked at her watch, and slowly relaxed against the chair back.

“When I found out you were pregnant, it was one of the happiest days of my life.” Cynthia reached for her purse. “No, please. I’m begging you, Cynthia, just hear me out.

“Yes, I was married. Yes, it was wrong. I had every intention of telling you, was ready to end that miserable life. But when you got pregnant, your mom went ballistic. The next thing I hear is you’ve moved to escape me and I’ve ruined your life. Everything happened so quickly and involved so many variables: your parents, my family, the business deal with Carlton.”

“And your wife, don’t leave her out.”

“By then she was the least of my worries, had been married in name only for years. We met as children. Our fathers had known each other since before either was married. We attended the same private school, traveled in the same circles. Our families spent vacations together. We were friends and then, as we got older, we were more than friends. I can’t recall when the talk of marriage began, but by the time I’d graduated college and gotten my master’s, the wedding was all but a fait accompli. I loved her, true enough, but it’s one thing to be friends and another to be married. We should have stayed friends.

“Of course, I found this out after the vows had been taken and the wedding cake cut. Two years in, I’d had my first affair. The next year was her turn. Within five, we were sleeping in separate rooms. The kids came and we stayed together largely for their sake but for our families, too. Appearances, you know, and our social status and private club memberships. I was still making my way in the world of finance and image was very important. I’m not proud of it now, but back then I would do almost anything for a successful career.

“And then I met you. Actually, no, you met me, ran straight into my chest. A beautiful, wet, precocious, naïve wonder of the world. From that moment, I have thought about you every single day.”

Cynthia looked at her watch, as cool as an ice cube on top of a glacier. “In the minute remaining, is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“Yes, a couple things, in fact. The only thing I regret worse than losing you and not knowing my son is that I took the deal your parents, mainly your mother, offered: a quarter million dollars and open access to your dad’s business contacts to grow my clientele. In exchange, I agreed to exit my son’s life . . . and yours.”

 

 

Two hours later, Cynthia carefully navigated the side streets as she made her way back to the Hall manse. One might think it was because at the club she’d drank one glass of wine too many. No. It was the thought of returning to her parents’ home. Had Jayden been with her, they would have headed straight to the airport and caught the first flight west. As it were, tomorrow, no, today was her dad’s birthday and she was supposed to help him celebrate.

“I can provide the fireworks,” she announced to the car’s interior. “That’s for damn sure.”

She placed a hand to her mouth in surprise.
Did I just curse?
The thought amazed her, so complete had her mother’s training—translated: brainwashing, browbeating—been on the absolute boorishness of a lady using foul language.

Cynthia reached her parents’ home, pulled into the driveway, and cut the engine. She was desperate to talk this out with someone, to get the perspective of someone not involved. She thought of her girls, and wondered what they’d say about Stewart’s story, and what they would do.

“I should have told them.”

But she didn’t. Following her mother’s advice, she’d told no one. Until Byron.

She pulled the cell phone from her purse and called Byron without hesitation.
Don’t send me to voice mail, Byron. If you do, I’ll call again. And again and again until you—

“Hello?”

His voice hit her like a hug and pulled the plug on steel will. “My life is so fucked up!” she managed, between sobs.

Two seconds passed. Five more. “Cynthia?” She covered her face and cried silently. “Cynthia, what’s wrong?”

“I saw Jayden’s father and he told me, he told me . . .” The crying began anew, this time with audio added.

“Stop!” The command was so forceful that Cynthia pulled half of the sob that had spilled out back into her mouth. “Pull yourself together and talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know the problem.”

His stern directive was just what she needed.

“Okay,” she mumbled, reaching into the console for a tissue. Never having been an emotional crybaby, she found her own behavior appalling, but then again, wasn’t that the state of this entire situation?

She blew her nose, reached for the bottle of water she’d brought from the country club, and shared what Stewart had told her. “I didn’t want to believe him,” she finished. “But he had information that could have only come from them. Even more, in my heart, I feel it’s true.”

“Wow, babe. I don’t even know what to say. Makes sense that you’d have a drink or two after getting that news.”

“How’d you know that?”

“Really?”

Cynthia’s laugh held little humor. “I’m boozed like a muhfuh.”

“It’s Muh. Fuh. You can’t hold your mouth proper and come correct with that phrase. You’ve got to relax.” Instead of a response to his attempt at humor, there was silence. Both grappled with which thoughts to keep and which to share. “I’m sorry about all of this, Cynthia. It’s a tough situation, something I thought only happened in movies.”

“People would be surprised at what goes on in some gated communities; the length people will go to for the sake of appearances, societal standing, one-upmanship on their neighbors and friends. The term
friend
is used loosely here; they’ll smile and give the biggest hug, then stab you while embracing. One of my dad’s friends paid a poor cousin a boatload of money to take a sexual assault rap for his Ivy League–bound son. There’ve been abortions, secret adoptions, hundreds of thousands of dollars paid to make legal troubles go away or, in my case, a child’s father.”

Byron made a sound of disgust. “That’s unbelievable. I can’t even wrap my mind around how someone could do that to their own. What are you going to do?”

“Thanks to you, I’m not going to go in accusations blazing and start a midnight row. A part of me wants to confront them as soon as possible. The other part wants my dad to enjoy his birthday. Whatever role he played was by my mother’s insistence. I’m not sure I can do that, given what I know.”

“I say take a little time to think about it, decide what it is you want to happen when you confront them. How will you react if they don’t act the way you think they should? And most important, how this will affect Jayden getting to know his father.”

“That’s a whole other issue.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, no problem.”

“No, really. I treated you horribly. You’re being so kind.”

“Like I said on my message—”

“You left a message?”

“You didn’t hear it? I figured that’s why you called.”

“I called because when I needed a safe place to land, the comfort of sharing with someone who cares about me . . . you’re the first person who came to my mind.” Silence. “I’m thankful we can at least have professional exchanges. It wouldn’t feel the same to have you totally out of my life.”

“Professional exchanges? Okay, I’ll chew on that one. You get some sleep. And keep me posted.”

“Thank you again. You’re a really special guy.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Good night, Byron.”

“Good night.”

Taking Byron’s advice, Cynthia crept quietly to the corner guest room, hurriedly undressed, and crawled into bed. Thoughts of the conversation with Byron brought a wisp of a smile, quickly chased away by what Stewart had told her. Not only about the unconscionable actions of her parents, but that he was getting divorced and ready to get back what was lost all those years ago, what he’d always wanted. Stewart had made it very clear that marriage was on his mind.

No one died. A day of hobnobbing, socializing, air kisses and fake smiles, and two nights of sleeping down the hall from the enemy, and Cynthia had not been arrested. Given the dark thoughts that crossed her mind, especially following one of her mother’s snide comments, being free was not to be taken lightly.

Distance and distraction played a major role in peacekeeping. Along with Jeff and his flawless lawyer partner, Veronika, two other couples had joined the family for breakfast, making direct conversation with Anna Marie unnecessary. Only child Jayden was as happy as a clam in sauce while playing with several of the workers’ children. Her best idea? Deciding to rent a car instead of rely on family. If a quick exit was necessary, she could go.

Fortunately, that was not necessary. The day passed, Carlton Hall’s sixtieth birthday party was a hit, with Anna Marie the dazzling belle of the ball. If her mother noticed the chill index blowing from Cynthia’s direction, she showed no signs. For her part, Cynthia spent most of the evening with her father, his friends that she knew, and a former neighbor who’d returned home and bought a house near their community, was married, and had a ten-year-old son. Jayden was at their house, with the sitter.

During a lull in the festivities, Cynthia spotted Carlton standing alone. She quickly retrieved her handbag before joining her father. “May I have a moment alone with the most popular, not to mention handsome man in town?”

“Why most certainly, my beautiful daughter.”

“Good. Come with me.” She linked her arm in his, enjoying one of a very few genuine happy moments. Speaking to someone on her left, she saw Anna Marie watching them, envy in her eyes.
How can she begrudge the relationship I have with Dad?

When she started toward them, Cynthia hurried toward the hallway and a small private room just beyond it. She breathed a sigh of relief when Jeff clutched his mother’s arm as she passed and spun her onto the dance floor. Once inside, door closed, her face crumbled.

“Are you all right, dear?” Concern creased her father’s brow and shone in his eyes.

Cynthia noticed the deepening crow’s feet around her father’s kind eyes. They hadn’t been there a year ago. She shook off the disenchantment from her and her mother’s non-relationship, and smiled. “I’m well, Dad. A few concerns at work, but nothing important enough to be discussed on your special day.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small box, eloquently wrapped in black paper with a silver bow.

“What’s this?” He cocked his head and looked between her and the gift. “I love the gifts received this morning, from you and Jay.”

“I know you do. But that one has your name all over it. I couldn’t resist.”

Carlton slipped off the bow and quickly rid the box of its wrapping. “Oh, boy!” His smile was genuine as his eyes gleamed. “How’d you know I was thinking about getting a new golf GPS?” He looked again and noticed engraving on the platinum case. “You weren’t kidding when you said my name was on it. ‘
FOR CARLTON HALL. BETTER THAN A HOLE IN ONE. YOUR DAUGHTER, CYNTHIA
.’ Thank you, sweetheart.” They hugged. “This is very nice.”

He placed the GPS device in the box, but instead of preparing to rejoin the party, he leaned against the wall. “I understand you went to the club yesterday.”

“I should have known there’d be no keeping any event at the club from its unofficial mayor.”

“You saw Stewart.”

“I did. When did he move back?”

“As far as I know, he didn’t. But his mother’s ill. I think he bought a place to stay when he visits.”

That her father knew about Stewart was somehow a relief. But she wasn’t prepared to have an in-depth conversation about him.

Carlton’s eyes were unreadable as he studied her. “I understand the two of you shared the private room.”

“Considering my scandalous secret, we felt it best.” The truth was said without rancor. She placed a light hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m no longer that twenty-two-year-old college grad, naïve and unthinking. It was a civil conversation over a delightful meal. The contents of which will remain between Stewart and myself.”

Any comment Carlton may have had was cut off by the abruptly opened door. Anna and her newfound BFF, Veronika, stood at the door. “Really, Cynthia, must you hide your dad and keep him all to yourself? I’d think you’d want to take as much time as possible to get to know your future sister-in-law. Look at her necklace. It’s a custom Katz design.”

An hour later, she didn’t have to feign sickness to leave the party. Her mother was a pain in the behind. Snobbery, cattiness, and empty compliments that for most of her life had been the norm was now a pain in her head.

Using a last minute change in flights as an excuse, Cynthia awoke early, got she and Jay packed, and left for the airport five hours before her flight was scheduled to depart. To appease a sulking kid who hadn’t wanted to leave, they stopped at the Mall of America, an incredibly large attraction just outside of Minneapolis. A good move. Jayden wore himself out and was asleep before the plane reached cruising altitude, giving Cynthia three hours and forty-eight nonstop minutes to figure out when this mass of muddled mayhem became her life.

They arrived home, showered, ate, and went to bed. Five minutes later, it seemed, the alarm sounded and it was time for work. Cynthia prayed this would be a calm Monday. Her frayed, overworked nerves and Margo’s haughty nosiness would not be a good mix.

One doesn’t always get what they pray for. Ivy was on her as soon as she turned the corner.

“There you are! Is everything all right?”

Is the state of my life plastered on my face?
Not even thirty seconds in and Cynthia was already frowning. “I’m okay. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you; called your cell phone several times.”

“Oh, shoot. I forgot to take it off airplane mode.” Cynthia looked at her watch. “I usually arrive at ten on Mondays. What’s going on?”

“You missed a meeting.”

“Excuse me?”

Ivy gave an almost imperceptible nod toward Cynthia’s office.

Cynthia got the hint and led the way into a more private space.

Ivy had barely shut the door before whirling around with a look of anger Cynthia had never seen. “I knew she was lying.”

“Who?”

“Margo, who else?”

“Wait. To handle this I’m going to need more caffeine.” Cynthia walked over and sat behind her desk. She noted a wound-up Ivy paced from the door to the window and back before finally sitting in one of the two chairs facing Cynthia’s desk.

Cynthia reached for the extra packets of sugar she’d gotten from the shop. She removed the lid from the coffee cup, added them, then opened her drawer to retrieve two single container coffee shots and added them, too. Only after stirring the concoction of liquid caffeine and enjoying a couple healthy sips did she nod at Ivy. “Okay, what happened?”

“When I got here, around eight-thirty, the phone was ringing. I didn’t pay it much attention; figured whoever would either leave a message or call back. Then five minutes, it rang again. It was Margo asking for you. I told her you would be here at ten your normal time. Then she says, ‘She’s
still
not here?’ as though she’d not heard me. That was weird, but I thought it was Margo being messy and went back to work.

“Five minutes before you came in, both Margo and Tracy came over asking if you’d arrived yet. By now I’m sure Margo is up to something. So I said, ‘As Tracy knows, Cynthia arrives at ten and leaves around six.’”

“What did Tracy say?”

“She looked at Margo. Margo shrugged, and said, ‘I’m positive I sent the e-mail, and marked it urgent.’”

“Sent what e-mail?”

“As soon as they left the area, that’s exactly what I checked out. She sent the e-mail, only she sent it to the company department e-mail address, not your personal one, and she sent it at around seven o’clock, Friday night.”

Cynthia nodded slowly, as all became clear. “All right. Thank you, Ivy. I appreciate that information and will definitely take care of it.”

Ivy stood. “If you need anything from me to back up your schedule or to prove you come in on Saturdays or, I don’t know, maybe sneak into her office and rearrange some files or open up her database before my finger accidentally falls on the Delete button . . .”

“Ooh, remind me not to get on your bad side,” Cynthia said, with a chuckle.

“People like her are so annoying.” She reached the door. “Want me to leave it open?”

“Sure.” Cynthia opened her laptop and turned it on. She opened her e-mail portal and quickly found the memo announcing a special, eight o’clock catered breakfast meeting with the board president and one other board member, one of the directors from H.E.L.P.’s umbrella company, and representatives from four similar agencies and organizations who all worked with clients from LA’s judicial system.

She was angry, beyond livid, yet Cynthia calmly stood, picked up her coffee, and walked to the window. It wouldn’t do to give in to emotions right now. She planned to not only keep a level head, but to not stoop to the depths that Margo had gone to get the director position.

This didn’t mean that she’d go down without swinging. After several more minutes she walked back to her desk and sat down with purpose. Soon her fingers were flying over the keyboard as she put her plan into motion. Margo may have won that round by being underhanded, but she was getting ready to learn that there was more than one way to fight.