Here Comes Trouble (27 page)

“What’s coming down the road?” Ty asked, coffee half way to his mouth, but Malcolm was already heading upstairs to one of the guest rooms.

“Malcolm.” His grandmother’s voice stopped him. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to say it anyway. That girl will be there for you through anything. She’ll stand. She’ll not crumble. She’ll not wilt. And no matter what you do, she will love you until the day she dies. I know, my boy. I
know
. Don’t rob yourself of what could be. Don’t rob her.”

***

To say watching his father being escorted into a police interrogation room Saturday morning was satisfying was a massive understatement. If only he could enjoy it more. “Sleep well?”

Chadwick pulled out the chair across from him, sat, and leaned his arms on the cracked Formica table. “Was your lawyer able to get you one of the better bunks?”

The smile on his father’s face invigorated Malcolm further. “You think any of these charges are going to stick? Art forgery? Fraud? You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

“Oh, how I wish I did.” The lie came so easily. “But somehow over the years you managed to piss Nemesis off all on your own.”

“Nemesis.” Chadwick chuffed. “My lawyers will have me out of here in—”

“Five to ten, from what I’m hearing. Three to seven if you cut a deal. But that’s for the art. Let’s talk business for a few minutes.”

“We’ve already cleared the air on that topic.”

“Yes and no.” Malcolm pulled out his phone so he could play back their recorded conversation from the beach house. When he stopped it, he looked at his father. “Each of your stockholders has received copies of this conversation. Not illegal, by the way, since it’s not a court of law, but they are all writing letters of complaint to the SEC stating you gave them false information regarding their investment in Oliver Technologies. That, coupled with the fact you knew someone was buying out the company, doesn’t make you look so good. But that’s neither here nor there. Oliver Technologies is in the hands of someone who cares about the company now and they’re already inquiring about doubling their investments now that Ty’s in charge.”

“You’ll still take a hit where TIN is concerned, now that everyone knows you’re sick with cancer for a second time. Yeah, that’s right. That pretty new company you built, all those people who work for you, those stock prices, they’re all going to come crumbling down the second the story breaks about your illness.”

Malcolm continued to stare. Continued to let his father dig himself deeper.

“You think what happened to Apple after Jobs died was bad? It’s going to be a pleasure watching TIN go under while you try to bail out a sinking ship.”

“Your concern for my health aside.” Malcolm folded his hands on the table. “TIN isn’t going to sink. Not with the endorsements and support we’ve been getting since your story broke. A Saturday, Dad? Really? Oh, and by the way, I’m no longer CEO. I’ve taken a leave of absence so I can get healthy and then, when I return, I’m going to be better than before.” He flipped open the folder. “And so will Ty. Speaking of which, I think the SEC is going to be very interested in seeing his statement regarding the contract he
didn’t
sign five years ago.” He pulled out another folder and showed him the contract Ty had located in his father’s password-protected computer. “You need to learn to vary your passwords. Because this signature, while it’s close, it’s not Ty’s after all. It’s yours. It’s a forgery. So let’s circle back to those paintings of yours and ask ourselves if you selling fakes is that far out of the realm of possibility.”

His father’s face was flushing as Malcolm shifted to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Lastly, I had a nice long conversation with those three gentlemen you introduced me to last night. Mr. DeLuca, Mr. Aiken, and Mr. Dubrov were very distressed not to be able to recoup their, shall we say, investment from you via those paintings you hoped to pass off on them. So you know what?” He shoved the paper toward his father. “I bought the marker on your gambling debts. I own you. Or at least two million dollars’ worth of you. Just with this tiny little piece of paper. Pretty isn’t it? Sheila suggested I have it framed. Good idea?”

Chadwick’s fists clenched on the table.

“And all this is on top of you trying pass along fraudulent art to, of all people, the wife of a U.S. Senator. You are the gift that just keeps on giving.”

“That’s ridiculous. Every one of those paintings was genuine.”

“If that’s true, then why did they find the real paintings in your private office vault about thirty minutes ago, Dad?” He leaned forward and whispered, “I asked the investigating officer if I could be the one to tell you. And that lawyer you’ve been so fond of these last couple of decades, you might want to check in with him, because I think he’s withdrawing his representation.” Malcolm got to his feet and gathered up his files.

“You think you’re so smart. You still end up with nothing. What do you think is going to happen when Sheila finds out the truth about you? A woman like her—”

“She got your message, Dad.” He leaned his fists on the table and brought his face in close. “And you know what? I was the one who walked away. I’m the one who didn’t want her to have to deal with my illness. So guess what? I win after all.” He walked over to the door, hands in his pockets, and felt Sheila’s bracelet that he’d found that night in his father’s office. The bracelet he’d been carrying around ever since.

The bracelet with the charm he’d given her all those years ago. When he’d first fallen in love with her.
Sheila.

“You know, Malcolm,” Chadwick said, and when he faced his father for what he hoped would be the last time, he didn’t like the amused gleam in his eye. “Walking away from the only woman who’s ever meant anything to you? I wouldn’t call that winning, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He closed his eyes, the doubt and fear lifting. She’d been right. About everything. He was scared of what was coming, of being sick, of the treatments he’d have to endure, but he was more scared of losing the one thing that ever mattered. The laugh escaped on its own, strong, amazed, life-affirming.
Sheila.
“I never thought I’d ever say this, but thank you, Dad.”

“For what?” Chadwick growled.

“You wouldn’t understand. Not in a hundred years. But thank you.” He closed the door behind him, leaving his father and his past finally behind him.

Five steps into the hall he had his phone out and dialed Nathan. “Hey, can you do me a favor and meet me at your father’s house?” He took a deep breath and smiled. “And give me Theresa Juliano’s phone number?”

Sheila rang Morgan’s doorbell, regretting her unannounced visit when she heard the squeals and laughter coming from inside. Saturday morning, what was she thinking? She was heading back to her car when Morgan flung open the door and blinked dazed, sleepy eyes at Sheila. “Good morning. What’re you doing here?”

Obviously her sister hadn’t read the morning paper yet. Sheila didn’t have the energy to talk or explain. She was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. She’d sat on the shower floor for over an hour before finally going to bed, only to be reminded of Malcolm when she smelled him on her sheets. A run on the treadmill had done nothing but piss her off, so she’d pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, climbed into the car, and just drove. Ending up here. After stopping for donuts. “Can I come in?” She held up the pink box. If she didn’t have to squeeze into some designer dress later tonight for the gala she might have scarfed down all its contents.

“Of course. Yum.” Morgan stepped aside and licked her lips. “I’m hesitant to ask what triggered the sugar rush, but I’m not going to refuse it. Come on in.” She rubbed a hand down Sheila’s back as she maneuvered her through Gage’s bungalow-style house into the kitchen. “Gage, coffee, please.”

“Sure.” He folded the paper and set it aside. When he stood up, she saw he was wearing jeans and her sister was wearing his shirt.

“Ah, jeez. I knew it.” Sheila spun around, but Gage stepped in front of her and planted his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re family. You’re always welcome and Morgan and I can have sex when you leave. Sit.” He pushed her onto the stool he’d vacated and set a mug in front of her. “Talk.”

Tears welled and Morgan, standing on the other side of the island, jerked straight. “Oh, God. What’s wrong? Is it Dad? Nathan? Did something happen with Malcolm?”

“Dad’s still acting weird, Nathan’s fine, but Malcolm— Dammit, Malcolm’s sick.”

Morgan laughed, pressing a hand against her heart. “Jesus, scare a girl why don’t you? No, he’s not. His tests were just fine. He told me—”

Sheila stared. “He told you when?” Her tears evaporated under the heat of anger. Her sister knew about this?

“The other night at the center after he got a . . .”

“Morgan.” Gage pushed the morning paper into her hands and Sheila watched as her sister skimmed the article about the buyout, about Malcolm being the CEO of TIN and the announcement of his leave due to illness.

“N-no. No. This can’t be true. I talked to him after he got the call.” Morgan crumpled the paper in her hands. “He said everything was fine, that the tests—” She looked at Gage, then Sheila. “He lied to me.”

“Join the club.” Sheila stared into the swirling brown mist of coffee. “He’s, um”—she pressed her fingers into her forehead—“he’s heading back to the Bay Area to start treatment. He’s leaving on Monday.”

“The hell he is. Give me that phone.” She snatched at the cordless as Gage moved it out of reach. “Gage.”

He held up a finger and Morgan went quiet. Ever the voice of reason, he asked, “What did he say, Sheila? Why didn’t he tell you?”

“Some crap about protecting me. That he didn’t want me to have to take care of him, or watch him die. Would it be hard? Of course it would be, but I’d be with him.” She pressed her hand against her heart. “And that’s all I want.”

“Of course it is.” Morgan said.

Gage shook his head and wrapped an arm around Sheila’s shoulders, drawing her against him as she blinked a new batch of tears free. “He’s a proud man, honey. And he’s used to being on his own. But this isn’t your decision. It has to be his.”

“I know that. And that’s what scares me. What if he doesn’t love me enough—”

“This can’t be Sheila Tremayne talking,” Gage said with a rough hug. “If there’s one thing I know about you Tremayne women it’s that you always get what you want, no matter how you have to get it. Or how long you have to wait.”

***

“I don’t know about this.” Sheila twisted and turned in front of the full-length mirror in her bathroom. “It’s a little . . . pure, don’t you think?” The ivory structured gown wouldn’t have been her first choice for the gala, but when Veronica and Morgan had come knocking on her door two hours before, followed by Gina, Liza, and a stack of pizzas, she’d acquiesced and agreed to try it on. Strapless, fitted, and sublimely elegant with a narrow crystal belt, the design reminded her of her mother’s exquisite style. “I know I said I didn’t have a chance to pick out a dress for the gala yet, but really?” She flipped half her hair over one shoulder, the gentle waves settling softly. “You don’t think it’s over the top?”

She found all four women in various states of dress in her bedroom, Morgan with a napkin tied around her neck to protect the emerald green gown she’d brought. Veronica went with basic black and all Sheila could think was “Wow” while Gina and Liza went a little less formal with a sundress and cocktail frock, respectively. “What do you think?”

“I’m thinking I hate you.” Morgan scrunched her face, but her eyes were shining. “Honest to God, I’m going to look like a lump at my wedding next to you.” She looked over at Veronica. “Maybe you should be my maid of . . . Nope. Never mind.”

“Shut up,” Sheila laughed, grateful for the distraction. The girls’ day had been a welcome respite after her fight with Malcolm, but relaxation time was over. “Liza, I think you and I should head on over and check on the caterers—”

“Already on site and all ready to go.” Liza shot to attention and grabbed her notepad, dislodging a content Sherlock from her lap. “The four-piece orchestra is due to arrive in”—she glanced at her watch—“twenty minutes, and the tech guys finished installing those last-minute fairy lights you requested along the walk. Chairs and tables are set up and our mom is already there overseeing everything, so yep. We can head out at any time. Right, Morgan?”

“Uh-huh.” Morgan glanced at her own watch. “Oh, I did do one teeny little thing I hope you don’t mind.” A horn honked outside. “Ah. Right on time. Man, why didn’t that ever work when I wished George Clooney into my bedroom? Limo time!”

“You don’t need George Clooney,” Sheila reminded her. “You’ve got super cop.”

“Ex–super cop.” Morgan tossed the last of her pizza into the empty box and ripped off the napkin. “Fix your makeup, put your shoes on, and let’s get this party started.”

“And then we can start planning your wedding,” Sheila called as Morgan headed downstairs, followed by the twins.

“Don’t remind me,” Morgan yelled back.

“Sisters,” Sheila said to Veronica as she returned to the bathroom and brushed foundation powder over her nose.

“You doing okay?” Veronica lounged against the doorframe, eyes wide as she visually gobbled up the bathroom. “And can I move in here?”

Sheila smiled. “I’m doing fine. Nothing like being in love with an . . .”

“Idiot, yeah, I told him as much a few weeks ago. He didn’t mean to hurt you, you know. He loves you.”

“I used to think that was enough.” She didn’t want this melancholy following her tonight, not when they had so much to celebrate.

“He’s been alone a long time, Sheila. Until this trip home, I think the concept of family completely escaped him.”

“Well, he’s had more than enough of it now. I’m glad he had you—has you, going forward.” Sheila set her brush down, washed her hands, and did a final smoothing of her hair. “He’s going to need someone.” And whether he liked it or not, she was going to make damned sure it was her.

“I agree. And who knows? He might surprise you and come around.”

“I wouldn’t if I were him.” Sheila wished she could take back every word she’d said last night and just tell him the one thing, the only thing, that mattered. That she loved him. “I kind of hit him with both barrels.”

“Good for you.” The horn honked again. “Guess we’d better go. Morgan said something about picking up your aunt? Levia I think her name is.”

“Oh.” Sheila blinked back tears. “That’s a nice thought. She’ll love riding in a limo.”

“Then let’s get to it. I’m ready to party.”

***

“God, we’re late. I’m late. It’s my event and I’m late.” Sheila bounced on the back seat of the limo. “What is wrong with you guys? We should have been there fifteen minutes ago.” Instead they were stuck at a red light two blocks away from the center and Morgan’s cell phone hadn’t stopped chiming text alerts for the last three miles.

“Relax,” Liza said, kicking a giggling Gina in the shin. “Mom’s there. She’s handling everything, remember? She lives for this kind of thing.”

“No kidding,” Gina muttered.

“I don’t understand why we needed to bring her in,” Sheila said. “I thought I had everything organized . . .”

“That’s why everything’s fine,” Morgan reminded her. “Oh, look.” She leaned toward the driver’s window and raised her voice. “The street’s clear now. We can go.” The car lurched forward.

“Have you been drinking?” Sheila asked.

“Not yet, but I plan to very soon.”

“I’m way ahead of you.” Veronica waved her champagne glass in the air and nudged Levia, who was all wide-eyed wonder at the experience. “Levia, you look beautiful. I love that cameo bracelet.”

“Sheila’s mother gave it to me years ago.” Levia held up her wrist. “I thought it the perfect accessory for the evening.

“Finally,” Sheila sighed as the car pulled up to the driveway. She looked out the tinted windows and saw masses of twinkling lights from one end of the driveway all the way up and into the lobby of the center. “Well, they did a spectacular job on those, didn’t they?” At eight at night, the sun was still peeking over the horizon, but the twilight effect was the perfect accompaniment to this evening’s fundraiser. She pulled the handle. Nothing happened.

“Would you let him come around and let you out, please?” Morgan crawled her way toward the door, her dress slipping and twisting as she maneuvered. “You know, there’s a special place in hell for whoever invented strapless bras.”

“At least you need one,” Liza countered, looking down at her small chest. Gina snorted.

The door unlatched and Morgan all but tumbled out face-first.

“Ever so graceful.” Sheila laughed as her sister righted herself, jerked her dress into place, and then spun around to block the door. “Hey. Let me out.”

“Can’t. Girls, you first.” She hustled Liza and Gina out, followed by Veronica, who waited and escorted Levia free. “Okay. Wait.” Morgan looked over her shoulder. “Um, yeah. Okay. Now you can come out.”

“Forget drinking, what are you smoking?” Sheila scooted across the padded bench and swung her feet out, smoothing the dress before she rose and took the hand that was offered.

“Hey, sis.” Nathan, in full tuxedo, grinned at her. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you?” She glanced around and saw her father on the other side, the smile on his face warming her heart. “Hey, Dad.” She wanted to ask if he was ready to talk about what had happened last night, but it wasn’t the time. Or the place. Whatever sadness hovered last night had vanished this evening.

Most of the guests had already assembled inside. She saw heads bobbing and bodies moving about, the telltale hint of her favorite Bach music emanating from inside. “What’s with the tux?”

“Dress code. Theresa’s orders.”

“Theresa,” Sheila laughed. “That woman.” She stepped gingerly, as the dress was a bit more confining than she was used to these days. “I, oh.” She stopped at the entrance to the walkway. “Well, hello everyone.” And by everyone she meant Gage and his family, Kelley dressed in a sparkly red dress that glittered in the lights. Drew and Lydia stood nearby, each dressed to the nines, and Cedric and Aiden, decked out in little tuxedos, the smiles on their faces showing every one of their tiny teeth. “Don’t you all look great. But shouldn’t you all be inside?”

“Not just yet.” Morgan stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that had everyone cringing.

“How ladylike,” Sheila muttered.

“You’ll forgive me. Okay, everyone, take your places please.”

“Places for what? It’s not like this is a . . .” She stopped talking. She stopped breathing. She stopped . . . everything as Malcolm rounded the corner, wearing the most beautiful tuxedo she’d ever seen in her life. The tie, the snug cummerbund, the perfect fit of the jacket, but it was the look on his face, the glow in his eyes that had her mind going blank. “Malcolm,” she whispered as he approached.

“Can you give us a moment?” he asked Jackson and Nathan, who to Sheila’s surprise moved away without a word. He glanced around as if needing to make sure they were out of earshot of everyone. “Last night you said—”

“I said a lot of things,” she said. “And I shouldn’t have.”

He pressed a finger against her lips, narrowed his eyes. “You had your say last night. It’s my turn. Okay?” She should bite him and, given his expression, he knew what she was thinking. “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

She inclined her head, but stayed silent.

“You were right. And this isn’t something I’m going to repeat in public, so accept it here, now, between us. I was scared. I am scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen, Sheila, but I do know whatever it is, I don’t want to face it without you. I need you.”

Her heart tipped as every door she’d felt closed on her the other night began to open. “You don’t have—”

“My turn, remember? I’m almost done. Jeez, this is more stressful than I thought. The other night you said you’d marry me tomorrow if I asked. Well. I’m asking.” He lowered himself onto one knee, clasping her hand between his. “This idiot needs you, Sheila. He loves you. And he doesn’t want to wait until tomorrow. Will you marry me?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring that had Sheila gasping. “Tonight?”

“Tonight?” She squealed and heard her family and friends laugh. “But the gala, and the guests . . .” She looked to the center, saw Theresa Juliano and her husband, along with Liza and Gina standing by the front entrance. “I should have known.” And then she laughed, every ounce of anger forgotten as she looked down at the man on his knee. “You’re sure? I’ll probably drive you nuts.”

“No probably about it.”

“There’s no going back. I want it all.”