Private 12 - Vanished (20 page)

I sat down on the couch and bent in half, my arms around my waist, my head between my knees. Dad. Dad was not my dad. My mother was married to my dad who was not my dad when she’d been with Noelle’s dad somehow and made me. This was too surreal. Too much for me to process. Way too much for me to believe.

But then, in the whirl of screaming protestations, a few bits of fact came screeching through. Like the fact that I looked nothing like my father. The fact that I looked a lot like Noelle. The fact that Upton said Lenora Lange reminded him of me. The fact that, in St. Barths,
Mr. Lange had been insanely protective of me, had given me the same gift he’d given Noelle on Christmas morning. The fact that her mother had avoided me like the plague.

I looked up, tears streaming down my face, and the three of them looked down at me. My mother looked scared. Noelle looked hopeful. Mrs. Lange, sympathetic.

“We know it’s overwhelming,” she said.

“No,” I replied. “You have no idea.”

I looked at my mom. “Does Dad know?”

“He does,” she replied.

“Does Scott?” I asked.

“No.”

My parents had been lying to me my entire life. Lying to both of us.

“So when I went away to Easton last year … did you know that Noelle was there? Did you know we were going to meet?” I demanded.

My mother’s face rushed with color. “I wasn’t aware of much at that time, sweetie,” she said. “But later … yes. I did, I did realize that the girl you were always talking about … that Noelle … was Wallace’s other daughter.”

“How could you never have said anything? How could you not tell me?!” I blurted.

“Reed, you don’t understand. I—”

But I didn’t want to hear it. I pushed myself off the couch. “I have to go.”

“Reed, come on,” Noelle said, grabbing my arm as I tried to get past her. “You can’t just keep running away.” I looked her in the eye and she tilted her head. “I know this sucks on some level, but think about it for a second. We’re sisters.”

I felt a pang in my heart, but it was quickly extinguished by the deluge of horrifying emotions.

“I don’t care,” I told her.

Then I turned and ran out into the cold.

I didn’t come back for a long time. I rode my bike to McDonald’s, scored a free coffee from Big Ted behind the counter, and then just sat there, not even drinking it, waiting for Target to open. When it finally did, I crossed the street and went inside and spent at least an hour walking up and down the brightly lit aisles over and over, seeing nothing. Considering I was in mismatched sweats and slippers, I caught surprisingly few disturbed looks.

Finally I realized it was well past time to go home. I didn’t want to see my mother or Mrs. Lange or Noelle, but I really wanted to see my dad. I needed to see him. I needed to talk to him and find out what he thought of all this. Why he’d stayed with my mom after she’d cheated on him and produced a baby with another man. Why he’d raised me like I was his own. Why he loved me so much. Mostly I just wanted him to hug me and tell me it was all a big joke.

So when I came around the bend onto my street and the limo
was gone and my dad was sitting on the front step, I pedaled all the harder. He stood up when I got to the end of the walk. I dropped my bike on the asphalt and ran into his arms. It was the first time I let myself cry. I just pressed my face into his sweatshirt and cried and cried and cried.

“It’s okay, Reed. It’s all gonna be okay,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

I really, really wanted to believe him. Finally, we both sat down on the step and stared across the street at the Romolos’ house.

“What happened, Dad?” I said. “I don’t understand how this could’ve happened.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out, making a huge steam cloud in the air. Then he looped his arm around me, warming me from head to toe, and I cuddled into his side.

“You know your mom and I were high school sweethearts,” he said. “And you know we moved to New York after I graduated college.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, after about a year of trying to pretend I was made to be a stockbroker, I wanted to move back here,” he said. “As it turned out, I didn’t want that life. But your mom, she still did. She was working as an assistant at this big financial firm and she liked going to work every day and getting dressed up and all that stuff. After she had Scott, it was three months at home and then right back to work. For two years we argued about where to live and what to do and then one day we just couldn’t argue anymore. We separated.”

“You guys got separated?” I asked. “I never knew that.”

My father lifted his shoulders. “We never really had a reason to tell you guys. Till now.”

I swallowed hard and looked down at my slippers. “So then she—”

“She had an affair. With her boss,” he said, nodding. “Right after it happened she came back to me, so upset. She told me everything and said she realized she wanted me. She was just hoping I’d take her back after what she’d done.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I told her I’d take her back no matter what. I’d just been waiting there for her,” he said with a small smile. “Your mom’s the one, bud. She just is.”

I instantly thought of Josh and felt an ache that almost leveled me.

“We decided to move back here and it wasn’t until three months later we realized she was pregnant,” he said. “We both knew there was no way it … no way you could be mine, but I didn’t care. I loved you from the second I felt you kick inside her belly.”

I laughed and a new wave of tears rolled down my face. My dad turned slightly and hugged me again.

“You’re mine, Reed. No matter what,” he said. “You’re my girl. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I said, my words muffled by my tears.

We stayed out there for a while until my breathing returned to normal. Until I could think again. Until I felt like I’d cried every damn tear I’d ever have.

“Mrs. Lange wants to see you in the morning,” my father said finally.

“Yeah? Why? Is she gonna give me my inheritance early?” I joked.

“You wish,” he said, giving me a squeeze. “Nah. I think she just wants to know you. And who could blame her?”

I smirked. “Yeah. I’m a real catch. It’s, like, one o’clock and I’m still in my pj’s with snot and tears all over me.”

“Good enough for a hockey game,” my dad said.

“We’re still going?” I asked, brightening.

“Of course we’re still going,” he said. “You can’t promise your brother an Igloo hot dog and then take that away. He’ll kill us both on the spot.”

“Good point,” I said. I looked over my shoulder at the house where I knew my mother was waiting to talk to me. Waiting for some big, emotional encounter. I dreaded it with every fiber of my being. “Can we just hang out here a while longer?”

“We can,” my dad said. “But sooner or later you’re going to have to go inside. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Just not yet.”

I guess the Croton Comfort Suites hotel wasn’t good enough for Lenora Lange, because Thursday morning my mom had to drive me all the way to Pittsburgh and the luxury hotel room the old lady had booked for herself and Noelle. Scratch that. It couldn’t be called a hotel room. It was, in fact, a presidential suite on the top floor of a luxury hotel, the square footage of which, my mom couldn’t help noting with awe, was larger than the square footage of our entire house.

“Welcome to my world, Mom,” I said as we waited for Mrs. Lange in the opulent parlor area, complete with crystal chandelier, brocade couches, and a continental breakfast spread fit for a queen.

My mother gave me a wan smile. Our relationship over the past twenty-four hours had devolved into a kind of polite silence. We’d barely spoken on the two-hour drive to Pittsburgh, other than to comment on the weather and talk about the game last night. Just as we’d pulled up to the valet at the hotel, my mom finally asked me the one question that had probably been on her mind for two days straight. Was I, or was I not, going back to Easton?

I told her I still didn’t know.

“Good morning, ladies,” Mrs. Lange said, stepping into the room with Noelle on her heels. She wore a chic black dress with a boat neck and straight skirt, a double strand of pearls decorating her collarbones. Noelle was far more casual in slim jeans and a cowl–neck cashmere sweater. They both stood before us, much like they had the day before at my house. Only they were farther away this time, what with all the space.

“I trust your drive was pleasant,” Lenora said.

“It was fine, thanks,” my mom replied.

“Good,” Lenora said. “So, Mrs. Brennan, if you don’t mind, we’d like to speak to Reed alone. Just for a few minutes.”

My mother’s face turned red, but she didn’t respond. She simply looked at me.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be fine,” I said.

“Okay, then,” she replied. “I’ll wait for you down in the lobby.”

All was silent as my mom walked out and stepped into the private elevator. Mrs. Lange was staring at me like, well, like I was her long-lost granddaughter. When the doors slid shut and we heard the
ping
that told us my mom was on her way, she finally made a move.

“Have a seat,” she said, extending a hand toward the formal-looking sofa behind me. “Would you like something to eat?”

I backed up and sat down. My stomach was grumbling and I would have killed to tear into one of those yummy, buttery-smelling croissants, but I had a feeling that eating during this conversation might present a choking hazard.

“No, thank you,” I said.

“All right, then, we’ll just get right to it,” she said.

I expected her to sit down in one of the wing-backed chairs on the other side of the coffee table and maybe whip out some blue-backed legal documents for me to sign, swearing that I’d never lay claim to any of the Lange fortune. Instead, she sat down next to me on the couch. So close, our knees were touching.

“Reed, I want you to know I am so sorry about everything I put you through over the last several days,” she said, reaching out and placing her hand over mine. Her fingers were surprisingly warm, and she had the hands of a much younger woman. Not frail in the slightest.

“Wait a minute, what
you
put me through?” I said, glancing at Noelle. “I thought—”

“None of this was Noelle’s idea,” Mrs. Lange said, looking at Noelle as well. “Please don’t blame her. She was merely doing what was asked of her.”

My brain felt unsteady, like it was resting on a plate of Jell-O. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“We needed to make sure that you were ready,” she replied. “That you were strong enough for what’s to come.”

“What’s to come? What are you talking about?” I said, my eyes flicking from her face to Noelle’s. “How long have you guys known about me? That I was your sister?” I said to Noelle.

“I only just found out, Reed, I swear,” Noelle said.

“What does ‘only just’ mean?” I asked. “Like yesterday or last week or—”

“Right after you started up the BLS,” Noelle said.

My heart turned inside out. “That was more than a month ago! Funny definition of ‘just,’” I spat. This infraction I could blame her for. “How could you not tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to!” Noelle replied, throwing up her hands. “I know how much you worship your dad and I didn’t want you to think
my
dad was some kind of philandering man whore. He’s not—”

Mrs. Lange held up a hand and Noelle stopped talking instantly. The older woman pursed her lips. I guess it wasn’t every day she heard her son referred to as a philandering man whore.

“Who knew what when is not important,” she said firmly.

Hell if it wasn’t. My blood started to boil in my veins.

“What’s important is what the two of you do with this information,” she added, looking at the both of us. “What’s important is what happens next.”

“Okay, Grandmother. You’ve been talking around this for days. What happens next?” Noelle demanded, ducking her chin as she faced off with her grandma.
Our
grandma.

“Noelle, come here, please,” Mrs. Lange said, shifting to make some room on her other side.