Prodigal Son (7 page)

He looked at her. “You’re a very loyal friend.”

“Helen makes it easy to be. Will you at least think about what I’ve said?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

She was fairly sure she believed him. Jack had never lied to her. But why was this an issue in the first place? Why didn’t he already know his stepmother’s good points? Every family had secrets, but this one seemed to have more than most.

“It was just my mom and me,” she said. “I can’t relate to problems inherent in a large family.”

“Want to trade?” he asked, then grimaced. “I’m sorry. I know you and your mom were close. You must still miss her.”

She nodded, thinking she’d missed her most during the last few months of her marriage. When she’d wondered if Vance was really what she’d thought or if she’d been overreacting.

“We’d always had a special relationship,” she said, “but we got even closer after my dad left. There was something about worrying about our next meal that put things in perspective.”

“The man was a first-class bastard,” Jack told her. “You haven’t talked to him since?”

“He never wanted to talk to me. When I got older, I tried a few times, but eventually I gave up. He just wasn’t interested. I heard he passed away a couple of years after my mom.”

“I won’t say I’m sorry. Not about him.”

“I always think that things could have been different. I wasn’t interested in him for what I could get. I just wanted a relationship with my father. But he never understood that. Why do relationships have to be so complicated?”

“Not a clue.”

She stood. “Okay, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

She left, not sure if she’d made things better or worse between them. She had a feeling that the only way to really solve the problem was to make a decision one way or the other and stick to it. If she was going to keep things business only, then she should not go to his office to chat. If she was interested in something else, then she should do that.

Complications, she thought. Questions and no answers. At least her life was never boring.

* * *

Jack returned from his working lunch meeting with the vice president of finance to find his stepmother waiting for him in his office.

Helen smiled when she saw him. “I was in the neighborhood,” she said.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been polite and done his best to get her gone as quickly as possible. Since his last conversation with Samantha, he was curious to find out what Helen wanted.

He motioned to the leather sofa in the corner. Helen crossed the room and took a seat. He followed and settled in a club chair, then tried to figure out what was different about her today.

She was still pretty, blond and only a few years older than him. Not exactly a bimbo, as Samantha had pointed out, but still very much a trophy wife.

While she wasn’t dressed in widow’s black—did anyone still do that today?—she’d replaced her normally bright clothes with a navy tailored pantsuit. She’d pulled her hair back and, except for simple earrings and her wedding band, she seemed to have abandoned the heavy jewelry she usually favored.

“How are you doing?” he asked. “Is everything all right at the house?”

She frowned slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re alone in the house. I know it’s large and I wondered if you were coping all right.”

Eyebrows rose slowly. “You can’t possibly be concerned about me.”

He shrugged. “I’m asking.”

“Hmm. All right. I’m doing fine. Yes, the house is big and empty, but your father worked long hours, so I’m used to being there alone.”

Jack shifted in his seat and wished he’d never started the damn conversation in the first place. But he was already into it. “Are you, ah, sleeping?”

She sighed. “Not really. I still expect George to walk in and apologize for working late again. But he doesn’t.” She smiled. “Enough of my concerns. They’re not why I stopped by. I wanted to check on you. It’s been a difficult couple of weeks.”

“You’ve been reading the paper.”

“Several. There wasn’t a lot of mention in the national press, which is something, but we’re getting plenty of local coverage. I feel just horrible, Jack. I wish I could make this all better.”

So did he. “Did you know about the second set of books?”

He watched her as she spoke to see if she got uncomfortable, but her cool gaze never flickered.

“I didn’t. George didn’t talk about the business very much with me. I wanted him to. I was interested. But he just wasn’t one to do that. I do know that for the last year or so before he died that he was under a lot of stress. I had an idea there were problems with the company, but I had no idea they were this bad.”

He wanted to believe her. Right now he had enough bad news without thinking there was someone making trouble from the inside. Not that Helen worked for the company, but until the will was read, she controlled his father’s stock. Speaking of which…

“Do you know what’s in his will?” he asked bluntly.

“No. He never discussed that with me, either.”

“So what did you talk about?”

“Everyday things.” She crossed her legs. “Jack, I’m not the enemy here. I always thought things would be better if you, your father and your brothers could reconcile.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

She drew in a breath. “So you still don’t like me.”

“I don’t know you. Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” she said, surprising him. “I wanted to get to know you and Evan and Andrew. I invited you all over several times. You were the only one to come.”

Jack remembered the lone uncomfortable dinner he’d attended. His father had spent the entire time telling him that his decision to go into the law instead of joining Hanson Media Group was foolish at best. That no good would come of it. Jack recalled walking out sometime between the salad and main course.

“He wasn’t an easy man,” he said.

“I know, but for what it’s worth, I don’t think he meant to be so difficult. He tended to see things one way.”

“His.”

“He wanted you to be happy.”

Jack grimaced. “He wanted me to run his company, regardless of what I wanted.”

“Here you are,” she said softly.

“Lucky me.”

“I wish things were different,” she said. “I wish he weren’t dead. Not just for me, but for you. I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” he reminded her. “I’m stuck.”

“You’re the best choice. I’m sorry this is taking you away from what you love but the company is important, too. We all have to make sacrifices.”

“Not from where I’m sitting. So far it’s a sacrifice committee of one. I wish I knew what was in the will. Maybe he left everything to you and I can screw up enough that you’ll fire me.”

She shook her head. “Don’t hold your breath on that one. George was always interested in surprising people. I doubt he wrote a boring will.”

He believed that. “If he left the company to me, I’m selling.”

She stiffened. “Just like that? Your father gave his life to this company.”

“I know that better than anyone, except maybe you.”

“I loved him, which means I can forgive his flaws.”

The implication being Jack should do the same.

He wanted to ask her how that was possible. How could she give her heart to a man who made sure she always came in second. But he didn’t. There wasn’t any point. People who were supposed to love you left, one way or the other. Some disappeared into work or circumstances. Some walked away and some died. But at the end of the day, everyone was alone. He’d learned that a long time ago and he didn’t plan to forget it.

Chapter Seven

S
amantha was reasonably confident that driving lessons were a bad idea all around. For one thing, Jack should be really mad at her. For another, the situation had the potential to turn into a disaster.

“Second thoughts?” he asked from the passenger seat of the old import parked in an empty parking lot.

“Oh, I’m way past them. I’m on to deep regret and remorse.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s easy. Think of all the crazy people you know who can drive.”

“Telling me I’m likely to encounter the insane isn’t a way to make me feel better,” she told him. “Really. Let’s talk about all the safe drivers instead.”

“There are a lot of them. You’ll be one of them. All you have to do is relax.”

Oh, sure. Because that was going to happen. She peered out the windshield and was dismayed to note there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Not even a hint of rain or bad weather or impending anything that would give her a good excuse to call off the session.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I could hire someone.”

“I don’t mind. It will be fun.”

Maybe for him. She curled her fingers around the steering wheel and sighed. “I don’t think I’m up to it.”

“Of course you are. You’re afraid, which makes sense, but once you let go of the fear, you’ll be fine. Think of the end goal. You’ll be driving. You can go anywhere you want. You won’t be dependent on bus schedules or trains. You’re free. Close your eyes.”

She looked at him. “I may not know much about driving but even I know that’s a bad way to start.”

He laughed. “You’ll open them before we go anywhere. Close your eyes.”

She did as he asked.

“Now imagine yourself driving on a big highway. The lanes are wide and it’s divided so you don’t have to worry about oncoming traffic. There are only a few cars and none of them are near you. It’s a pretty day. You’re going north, to Wisconsin. Can you imagine it?”

She did her best to see the road and not the flashing telephone poles or trees beckoning her to crash into them. She imagined herself driving easily, changing lanes, even passing someone.

“Now see yourself getting off the highway. At the top of the exit, you stop, then turn into a diner. You’re completely comfortable. You’re driving and it’s easy.”

She drew in a deep breath, then opened her eyes. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Good. We’ve been over the basics. Tell me what you remember.”

She talked her way through starting the car, putting it in gear and checking her mirrors. Long before she wanted him to, he told her it was time to replace visualization with actual doing.

She started the engine. Of course it sprang to life. She carefully shifted into D and then checked her mirrors. They were blissfully alone in the parking lot.

“Here I go,” she murmured as she took her foot off the brake and lightly pressed on the gas.

The car moved forward. It wasn’t so bad. She’d had a couple of driving lessons back in college and she’d enjoyed those. These weren’t all that different.

“Signal and turn right,” Jack said.

Signal? She flipped on the indicator then turned. Unfortunately, she pulled the wheel too far and they went in a circle. Instantly she slammed on the brakes.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it. We’re here to practice. If you could get it right the first time, why would you need to practice?”

He was being so logical and nice, she thought. Vance would have been screaming at her the whole time.

“Let’s try that turn again,” Jack said.

“Okay.” She drove straight, put on her signal, then eased the car into a turn. It did as she asked.

“Wow. That was pretty easy.”

“Told you,” he said with a smile. “We’ll make a couple more laps of the parking lot, then go onto the street.”

“The street?” she asked, her voice a screech. From the backseat Charlie raised his head as if asking what was wrong.

“You can’t stay in this parking lot forever,” Jack said.

“Of course I can. It’s a great parking lot. I like it. I could live here.”

“You’ll be fine. Come on. More driving. That way.”

He pointed in front of them. She drove for another five minutes, making turns and coming to a stop when he told her. Despite her protests, he managed to convince her to head out onto the actual street.

“This is an industrial park,” he said. “It’s Saturday. There aren’t going to be a lot of cars. Deep breaths.”

She held in a small scream then took the plunge. Or, in this case, the driveway onto the street. Up ahead was an on-ramp to the highway and all the open road she could want. Like a cat let out of a carrier, she traded freedom for safety and took a side street. The highway would still be there tomorrow.

* * *

“And?” he asked as they cruised the produce section of the local market.

“You were great,” she said. “Just terrific. Patient, calm and happy to explain everything fifty times.”

He shook his head. “While I appreciate the compliments, they weren’t the point. Admit it. The driving wasn’t so bad.”

It hadn’t been. After nearly an hour in the industrial park, she’d actually driven back into the city. There had been a single harrowing experience at an intersection when some jerk had jumped the light and nearly hit her, but aside from that it had been…easy.

“You’re a good teacher,” she said.

“You’re a good driver.”

She sighed. “I am, aren’t I? Soon I’ll be really good. Then I’ll have my license.”

“Then you can buy a car.”

“Oh. Wow.” She’d never thought in actual terms of getting a car. “I like it. There are so many kinds. I could get a little convertible.”

“Not a great choice in winter.”

“Hmm. You’re right. But maybe something sporty. Or an SUV. Then I could haul stuff on weekends.”

“Do you have anything to haul?”

“I don’t think so. Is it required?”

“The dealer isn’t going to ask.”

“Okay. Or maybe I could get a hybrid. That’s more environmentally friendly and I always recycle.”

He looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown horns.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing. You about ready?”

She eyed the strawberries, then nodded. “I’m always tempted by out-of-season fruit. It’s a thing with me.”

He pointed to her overflowing basket. “You know, this store delivers.”

“I heard, but I like to buy my own groceries. Check stuff out. What if I change my mind about what I want for dinner?”

“What? You don’t carefully plan a menu for the entire week and then stick with it?” he asked.

She felt her eyes widen a split second before she realized he was teasing her. “No, I don’t. But you rigid types plan everything.”

“I’ve had a few surprises lately.”

She was sure he was talking about the company, but she suddenly wished he were talking about the kiss they’d shared. That had been…nice.

She’d enjoyed knowing that her nerve endings hadn’t died in the divorce and that, yes, eventually she would want to be with another man. Although she had a feeling that her powerful sexual reaction had specifically been about Jack, there was still hope for her future. Eventually she would find someone else to be interested in.

They went through the checkout, then Jack helped her load her bags of groceries into the trunk.

“Let’s go,” he said, opening the passenger door.

She stood on the sidewalk. “Wait. I can’t drive back to our building.”

“Why not? It’s just around the corner.”

“Yes, but once there, I’d have to park. I might even have to back up.” She wasn’t ready for backing up. Not on her first day.

“You can do it,” he said and closed the door.

She glared at him for a full minute, but he didn’t budge. That forced her to get behind the wheel and consider her options.

“I could just walk home,” she said.

“What about your groceries?”

“You could carry some.”

“But I won’t.”

He might not have screamed during their lessons, but he was very stubborn.

“Fine. I’ll drive back, but if anything bad happens, you have to take over. And I’m seriously reconsidering the dinner I promised as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I was happy to help.”

She looked at him. His eyes were dark and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Maybe he didn’t want to have dinner with her. After the way she’d overreacted to his kiss, who could blame him.

“I’d like to cook you dinner,” she said. “But I’ll understand if you don’t want to come over.”

“We’re friends, right?”

She nodded.

“Then sure. I’ll be there.”

Friends. The way he said the word made her wonder if the statement had been to help him remember their relationship, or if it had been about telling her. Maybe he was making it clear that where she was concerned, he’d made his last move.

* * *

Jack arrived at Samantha’s apartment exactly at seven. He’d brought Charlie, even though the dog was tired from his day and would only sleep. Still, if conversation got slow, they could always talk about the dog.

Pathetic, he told himself. He was completely pathetic. Yeah, he wanted to do the right thing where Samantha was concerned. Be a friend, a boss and let the rest of it go. But no matter what he told himself or how many times she rejected him, he couldn’t seem to stop wanting her. Even now, standing outside of her door, he felt his body tighten in anticipation.

He knocked and promised himself that when he got home, he was going to figure out a way to get over her for good. But until then, a man could dream.

“You’re here,” she said as she opened the door and smiled at him.

“Was there any doubt?” he asked.

“I hoped there wasn’t. Come on in.”

He let Charlie lead the way, using the microsecond before he entered to brace himself to withstand the assault of color, gauzy fabric and perfume.

She’d changed out of her jeans and sweatshirt—both covered in sewn-on flowers—and into a loose top and flowing skirt that nearly touched the top of her bare feet. She was a kaleidoscope of color, causing him not to know where to look first.

There was her hair, long and flowing and curly, but pinned up on one side. Her blouse that fell off one shoulder, exposing pale, creamy skin. Her feet with painted toes and at least two toe rings. Her arms, bare except for jingling bracelets.

“So you’re back,” he said.

She closed the door behind him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been a little conservative since you moved here. Oh sure, you’ve been playing basketball in the halls and wearing bright colors, but not in the way I remember. This is the first time you’re exactly like you were.”

She smiled. “That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Come on,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him toward the kitchen. “I have wine and I’m going to let you be all macho and open it.”

“It’s what I live for.”

They settled in the dining room with a bottle of wine and some appetizers. Charlie retreated to an ottoman, where he curled up on the cushy surface and quickly went to sleep.

“I can get him down if you want,” Jack said, jerking his head toward the dog. “He’s great, but he sheds.”

“No problem. A few dog hairs will make the condo seem more lived in. Right now it’s still too perfect.”

“And we wouldn’t want that.”

She dipped a chicken wing into spicy sauce. “Life’s beauty is found in the irregular and unexpected. Ever see a perfect waterfall? A symmetrical sunset?”

“Technically the sun goes down in the same way every—” He broke off and grinned when she swatted him with the back of her hand.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “I’m talking about the clouds, the colors—and you know it.”

“Maybe.”

“My point is, dog hair is fine.”

“Great. Maybe you’d like to take over grooming him, too.”

“I wouldn’t mind it. He’s a great dog.”

“I agree.”

She sipped her wine. “I’ve noticed a bit more positive press in the past couple of days,” she said. “There were at least two mentions of the upcoming advertisers’ party. How Hanson Media Group is getting some things right.”

“I saw them, too. David is doing a hell of a job trying to counteract the negative stories.”

“You really like him.”

“In some ways he’s more like my father than George ever was. Or maybe a big brother. He’s not that much older than me. He was always there, making time in ways my father wouldn’t. Even though he traveled a lot, he kept in touch. He took the time. Sometimes that’s all that’s required.”

“I know.” She grabbed for a piece of celery. “After my father walked out, I missed him terribly. Sure there was the whole trauma of going from the rich princess to the kid in castoffs, but it was more than that. Given the choice between getting the money back and getting my father back, I would have gladly picked him. But either he didn’t get that or he didn’t care.”

“I know he walked out on your mom, but didn’t he see you at all?”

She shook her head. “One day he was just gone. That played with my head. How was I supposed to believe my father had ever loved me when he walked away and never looked back?”

She sipped her wine. “Mom was great. She really fought him. Some of it was about the child support. It’s crazy that a guy that wealthy paid almost nothing. But he could afford excellent lawyers and they knew all the tricks. As for seeing me, he would make promises and then not show up. There was always a good reason. Eventually my mom stopped pushing. She saw that it was hurting me more to hope.”

Jack couldn’t imagine what kind of man simply walked away from a child. His own father—no poster child for perfect parenting—had at least gone through the motions. He’d shown up to graduations and big events.

“It was his loss,” he said.

“Thanks. I used to tell myself that, too. Most of the time I even believed it. I grew up determined not to repeat my mother’s mistakes. I didn’t care if the guy had money, as long as I was important to him and we wanted the same things.”

Her words hit him hard. Ten years ago, he’d been that guy, but she hadn’t been willing to see that, or maybe she’d just never thought of him as more than a friend.