Key to Love (26 page)

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled, angling her head so her eyes could reach his. “It’s not that simple. The man is a multi-millionaire whose family made tons of money on railroads and coal in this state. He’s used to getting his own way. He’s...he’s fickle and quirky.”

Confused, he stared at her. “Would you care to explain further?”

She laughed. “Jeez, Lucas,” she mumbled, “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I meant this dear old man is a little more eccentric than most.”

“He’s just like everyone else, Lizzie. His wants and needs are the same. He eats, he sleeps, he works, he loves, and he wants to have a family who loves him back.”

Kneeling beside her, he took her hands in his. “It’s not Levinson that’s bothering you, is it? It’s me and my money.”

“It’s not the money,” she admitted. How could she tell him their relationship was doomed? She could think of no way it could it ever work. Eventually, he’d be in Scranton, she’d be in San Francisco. And there was Todd. The kid wanted and needed a mother. “I’m just trying to understand where we’re headed, Lucas. I’m so confused.”

“Because I don’t fit into your plans?”

“Maybe,” she agreed sadly.
Maybe because I don’t fit into yours
. She knew eventually she’d have to go back to California, whether she wanted to or not. It was where her life was, where she started her career, where her apartment and belongings were.

He rose and paced the room. “Good God, Elise, it’s fine to be driven, to have goals, to plan your future, but life and love don’t always fit into tidy little mental squares.”

“I know. I know.” She felt the screams of frustration at the back of her throat. Since she had arrived, her life was unfolding like one loose-as-a-goose screenplay where all the actors were ad-libbing. “I’ve always been a planner, Lucas. Organized, time driven, and in control.”

“And in love?”

“No,” she whispered honestly and shook her head. “Not until now.”

His anger faded, and he felt his heart swell to twice its size. He crossed the room and hauled her to her feet, his mouth finding hers. The kiss was so long, so hard, and so deep that he hated for the moment to end. Finally, he stepped back and clamped his hands on her shoulders. “Make the call, Elise, you’re driving me crazy—and everyone else for that matter. We can sort out the rest of this later.”

The doorbell rang.

He looked in the direction of the sound with a disgruntled frown. “Now what?”

“It’s probably Fritz,” she said. “He must have forgotten his keys.”

“Good God, we should just adopt him and make our lives less complicated.” He headed for the door. “Are you certain he really owns a house in town?”

She laughed above the sound of the doorbell’s incessant ringing.

“Rosie’s Posies delivering for a Miss Elise Springer.” The young delivery boy pushed the huge, tissue-covered vase of flowers into Lucas’s hands and clambered down the steps to his van.

Bewildered and equally curious, Lucas carried the arrangement to the kitchen and planted it on the counter beside the coffee pot.

It was much too soon for any type of celebrating, he decided, as he paused to eye the delicate wrapping where a card was stapled to the top.

A secret admirer? Her brothers? Someone from work? Chuck Sanders, for instance?

The last supposition was as aggravating as it was plausible. The man was one royal pain in the ass. He’d bet dollars for dipsticks, he was trying to lure her back to San Francisco. At least this time the man had the common sense to send the whole bouquet instead of squeezing the life out of each petal for a pathetic ounce of perfume. Exotic, rich perfume, Lucas reminded himself with a pang of jealousy. The kind she adored. The kind that sent his head swimming every time he was near her.

Frowning, he went to the cupboard and pulled out a fry pan. Minutes later, as the bacon began to sizzle, he heard her squeals of excitement from the bedroom above.

“Yes, it’s a go with Levinson!” she shouted and flew down the stairs with Bess at her heels. “We’re going to meet at the end of the week. And guess where? Of all places—Wilkes-Barre!”

She burst into the kitchen. A radiant look of pleasure made her even more beautiful. “Oh, Lucas, he wants me, only me,” she said breathlessly.

And so do I. A
fierce possessiveness made him want to explode. He watched with fascination as she twirled about the kitchen, stopping to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“This calls for a celebration,” he said. “Let’s have a spectacular lunch.”

She groaned. “Lucas, I can’t. I have so much to do. I need to buy a new suit. I need to tell Fritz. I need to call Dad or go out to see him.”

“I was thinking we’d celebrate by having lunch at the hospital with your Dad. He’ll be ecstatic.”

“You mean it? Oh, Lucas, what a terrific idea. How thoughtful.”

“Not really,” he said. “I figure I’ll have you all to myself tonight.” He caught her face in his hands and bussed her lips briefly. “Unless you want to start right now with what I had in mind for a celebration later. There’s no one around, if you haven’t noticed. Todd is in pre-school this morning.”

She laughed. “You’re going to become addicting.”

“I’m hoping to.” He grinned, then remembered the flowers. “Looks like Chuck Sanders knew you’d cinch the deal.” He gestured to the bouquet on the counter.

Her excitement faded and her face grew sober. “No, I don’t think so. Levinson said he’d call Paul and Chuck later today.” She turned to the flowers and removed the card.

“This is from Jack Morrison. He’s sorry for deserting me on Saturday night.” She jiggled the card in her hand. “Isn’t it sweet?”

The mention of Jack Morrison’s name was like an unexpected punch to the gut. Using every ounce of energy to hide his disgust, he eyed the mixed flower bouquet she was unwrapping.
Oh, yeah
,
real
sweet
.

****

Elise watched her father smile, eyes closed, as he relished the first bite of General Tso’s chicken. They were in the lounge, Anton’s casted foot propped up on a footstool, crutches lying beside his chair, Styrofoam container on his lap.

“Let’s hope Lizzie gets many, many more offers while I’m stuck here if you plan to bring real food each time we celebrate,” Anton said.

“If this is real food, we’ve been having a hell of a lot of it lately.” Lucas shot a sideways look at Elise.

Elise felt her face grow red, remembering the fried chicken dinner at the cottage finally consumed many hours later and in bed. “My creative energy stops just short of the kitchen, Lucas. I warned you the first day.” She hoped her father hadn’t noticed the secretive exchange.

He did.

“Neither of you look like you’re starving,” Anton said, “at least not for food.” He wrapped a string of lo mein noodles around his fork. “I talked to Twila the other day.” He hesitated, his gaze fastening on Lucas. “She says your father is lying. There’s no doubt in her mind he’s Mike’s father.”

Fork in midair, Elise stared at him. “Why would he lie?”

Anton shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“She’s absolutely sure?” Elise saw no point in disclosing J.B. had confiscated the glass Lucas’s father used at the bar and requested a DNA comparison with Mike Fisher. Unfortunately, it would take a few weeks before the results would be back from a lab in Atlanta and they would know for sure.

“She’s certain enough to bet on it.”

Anton glanced at Lucas. “She suspects your father may be struggling with guilt after all these years, Lucas, and was trying to hurt you in any way possible. Or it may be his idea of escaping it. Your mother never started drinking until your father packed up and left. Twila said she would have never turned to another man. She loved him beyond everything else.”

“Even Mike and me,” Lucas muttered bitterly.

Anton Springer nodded painfully. “I’m afraid so, but don’t blame yourself, Lucas. There was nothing either of you could have done to make it right. Sometimes there is only one real love in your life. Any other relationships are strictly sexual or for companionship.”

Elise took a steadying breath. She could see the wounded look in Lucas’s eyes, the pain on her father’s face. One had lost a mother he loved but never knew and the other had lost the wife he knew and loved.

Her father continued in a serious, subdued voice. “When you find a relationship so pure and genuine, you’d be a fool to let it go, no matter what the obstacles. Life’s like a good poker hand. When those aces come along you hold onto them.”

He stared at both of them and finally went back to his meal as silence descended like a soothing balm on the aches they were all feeling. It wasn’t until the meal was almost finished when Elise spoke. “Did Mrs. Pedmo say anything about Mary Jo Meyer?”

“Besides she’s married to a pompous piece of garbage?”

“Dad!”

“It’s the truth, honey. The man is a control freak.”

“So why doesn’t she leave?”

“Come on, Lizzie, you know the answer.” He eased himself back into his chair. “Three kids, no degree, and a husband who’s a cop. Just where could she run to where she couldn’t be found? Her mother offered to help her finish her early childhood education degree, but she had the distinct feeling it was vetoed by Ted, not Mary Jo.”

“She’s afraid of him,” Elise whispered. She rose and walked to the window.

“The entire Meyer family always had a mean streak in them.” Lucas stood and moved closer to her. She could smell the scent of his lime aftershave. His nearness made her heart beat faster. “And what do they become? Police officers. Just what we need—angry people to uphold our laws.” Lucas shook his head wearily.

Anton Springer squinted over at his daughter. “You know, Lizzie, if you want to know a man, find out what makes him mad. Maybe Ted Meyer would be a good specimen to start with since he always seems aggravated.”

****

The rest of the afternoon went by in a whirlwind for Elise. With her emotions vacillating so abruptly, she felt like a human yo-yo. She was delighted when she found the perfect navy blue suit in a little shop in downtown Scranton, but disappointed when she thought about leaving Lucas to go back to San Francisco and handle Levinson’s designs. She was elated when she stopped by Fritz’s office to tell him of her latest success and then frightened when she revealed to him Mike Fisher might truly have been murdered. She grew mellow and depressed each time she thought of leaving Todd.

Her emotions warring, her stomach churning, she finally arrived at the farm, only to find her answering machine held an even greater surprise.

Paul Winston had called and fired her.

Chapter Nineteen

Thursdays were slow days in town, but obviously not at the Springer farm, Elise decided when she pulled her Corvette in the driveway leading to the farmhouse. She stared curiously at the sight before her. The place looked like a parking lot for an outdoor rock concert. Along with Lucas’s Suburban and restored Trans Am, her dad’s pick-up, Fritz’s jeep, and Cindy’s beat-up Ford, three cars she didn’t recognize and a black stretch limo were jammed into the driveway and spilling onto the lawn.

Bewildered, she grabbed the dry-cleaned clothes on the passenger’s seat and hurried up the steps. Fritz greeted her on the porch, his hands jammed in his pockets, change jingling against his nervous fingers. Bess, lying behind a porch chair, jumped up to greet her, tail wagging with glee.

“What’s going on?” She draped the plastic-encased garments over the top rail and bent to give Bess an affectionate pat on her head. “I leave for fifteen minutes to get aspirin and stop at the drycleaners and the place turns into a car lot.”

“The invasion of the lunatics,” Fritz said and followed it with a sour scowl. “I’d kill for a double scotch on ice. All I wanted to do was take Cindy out to Nay Aug Park for a quiet walk.”

“That bad?” Elise smiled. “Who’s watching Todd?”

“Right now he’s upstairs trying to find his Atlanta Braves baseball cap. He’s begging me to take him for some ice cream.” Still scowling, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Before you go in there, I guess I’d better fill you in on all the whack jobs.”

“Whack jobs?” Her eyes traveled past his shoulders to the screen door where a chorus of voices was raised in angry pandemonium.

“Chuck Sanders is in the kitchen and is hoping he can beg you to come back to work. Monique is in the living room and is trying to beg Lucas to come back to her. Paul Winston is camped out on the steps in the hallway, looking like he just stepped out of an episode of the television show Mom always liked. You know, the one where you enter another dimension?”

“
The Twilight Zone
?”

“That’s it. Oh, and Mort Levinson is upstairs using your bathroom.”

She blinked, unsure she comprehended the monologue. “Mort Levinson?
The
Mort Levinson from San Francisco is upstairs in
my
bathroom?”

He nodded. “Yep, I figured it was better he used your bathroom upstairs than parade him past the display of tempers in the living room.”

She looked down in horror at her cut-off jeans and tank top. Why, oh why, didn’t she take time to properly dress this morning? She looked like Daisy Duke in running shoes. She frantically tried to smooth down tendrils of hair escaping from a sloppy ponytail she had tied up into a knot at the back of her head.