Second Chances (10 page)

“Is everything alright? Arthur looks a bit…dissatisfied.”

She shrugged her shoulders, already opening her mouth to say that Arthur’s mood was none of her concerns. Tristan sensed the danger and pointed at the tree. “Isn’t it… crooked?”

The word was an understatement. Pitiful or ridiculous would have been a better assessment of her choice. The poor tree was asymmetrical with an overgrown head and branches twisted into some impossible shape instead of the proper pyramid. He tried to imagine it covered with the decorations. The picture didn’t help. Tristan sighed, stoical.

“If you like it...”

Maya beamed.

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

Minutes later, they had the tree settled in the back of Arthur’s SUV. To Maya’s displeasure, she had no choice but to climb in with him, while Tristan and Isobel followed in the second car.

The easiness that had followed his offering of help with Matthew’s wish and her impromptu thanks was long gone. Arthur focused on the road, while she looked through her window.

With the fallen night, bands of fog were invading the streets, giving the city a ghostly aspect she loved.

“Haunting.”

Arthur glimpsed at her.

“Sorry what?”

“Tonight’s movie. I want to see something about haunting and ghosts.”

“As you wish.”

His lack of interest galled her and she closed her arms over her chest.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“Actually, my father sent me a message about some papers he needs for his negotiations with Isobel’s father.”

Maya reacted instantly. “Arthur, it’s Saturday night!”

“It doesn’t matter. Plus, it’s the perfect excuse for me to go. If you can pout long enough, Isobel will simply lecture me for abandoning you, and the illusion will stand. It will even allow us some time apart without too much suspicion.”

“You have clearly figured out every detail.”

One eyebrow shot up at the bitterness in her voice, but he said nothing. After a while, Maya spoke again, “I suggest you just drop me at my place and go. I’m perfectly able to make it look like a real dispute as it is.”

Arthur acquiesced, indifferent. Why she sounded angry was beyond him.

***

The door squeaked and Arthur lifted his head to see his father enter his office. Robert was wearing his tuxedo, a sign he was on his way to the opera or the theatre, or rather coming back from it given the time on the clock.

“I didn’t expect to find you here, Arthur.”

“As if you hadn’t texted me about those minor adjustments you needed ASAP.”

Arthur kept his face scrupulously devoid of emotion as Robert settled into one of the chairs in front of the desk.

“I hoped Maya was not too upset about your…getaway.”

The word was carefully chosen and spilled with enough contempt to make the hair on his neck bristle.

“Yes, she was.”

“Surprisingly.”

“Maya tends to let her emotions dictate her decisions. You will find a way to smooth her ruffled feathers, I trust.”

Arthur liked the conversation less and less by the second. The way his father talked about his ward was disturbing at best; abusive. First, because Robert had loved her deeply; and second, because Arthur didn’t really need his mind to venture in some particularly intriguing directions more than it already did.

He turned to pick up some sheets from the printer behind him and handed them to his father.

“Your addenda.”

Robert barely took a look at the notes before he discarded them.

“What did you learn about the Foundation?”

There they were.

“Nothing we didn’t know. Without tangible proof, we can’t do more than block their account. I’m not expecting the commission to give its approval for a financial verification anytime soon because of the holidays.”

“Call the judge. Of course, he’ll need a detailed list of their bank operations to proceed.”

Arthur froze. Such information was confidential. Only the members of the Foundation’s board members and their accountant had access to that. His father was suggesting (not asking, of course not). Robert would never assume responsibility for such an act, his father was suggesting that he used his “connection” to Maya to access the information. Such a “suggestion” was borderline illegal, besides unethical. Again.

The young man composed himself before he answered slowly, “I suppose such data could help find out if the drug lords are using the Foundation to launder some cash.”

Dissatisfied with the answer, Robert narrowed his eyes and Arthur held the glacial stare. After a couple of seconds, the older man broke the eye contact and stood, smoothing his white silk scarf.

Arthur swallowed.

“Father, I don’t think Maya knows anything about the drugs. She doesn’t know Moira is…”

“Of course. She’s way too naïve.” Robert smirked. “And indeed she is, to believe you’re truly in love with her.”

Arthur counted up to twenty before he allowed himself to release his grip on the armchair after the door closed, breathing deeply. The immobility helped relaxing the tension in his stomach, and the pounding in his head decreased accordingly. Some days, the heartless businessman hardly looked like his father, a man who deserved his respect, and his affection. Arthur switched off the lights and walked out of his office.

Passing by the giant Christmas tree at the entrance of the building, he wondered what Maya’s tree looked like. It was very late to find out.

Chapter 15

Her glasses lay on the floor, between the sofa and the coffee table. The anchorman on TV announced the weather forecast and Maya yawned, annoyed to have missed more than half of her movie.

She yawned again and snuggled on the couch, reluctant to move. If she was to sleep, her bed would be far more comfortable but the blanket was agreeably warm…

The buzz finally caught her attention. Maya stood and walked to the door to answer, shivering.

“Who’s there?”

“Arthur.”

Reproaches for bothering her so late died on her tongue at the sight of him, and she pulled him in without a word. Arthur sank into a chair and let his head fall back on the cushion, eyes closed.

“Are you alright? You look…”

“Just a headache.”

Asking if he needed some aspirin sounded lame. She proposed food instead.

“I’m not hungry. Thanks.”

At a loss for what to do or say, Maya wrapped her plaid around her shoulders and folded her long legs under her. Arthur opened his eyes to look around. Her apartment was the same, still small and cramped. Cozy.

“Your tree is weird.”

“Tristan said horrible.”

Tristan had said horrible and Isobel had tactfully avoided describing the poor thing. She smiled at the memory. Arthur closed his eyes again.

“Your cousin has no taste.”

His comment was clearly meant to irritate her but Maya grinned sweetly.

“Isobel would object to that.”

“See what I mean?”

“Why are you here, Arthur?”

He glanced up. The dark blue stare was devoid of the usual mocking gleam. What glittered in his eyes was something else, lassitude or longing. Troubled, Maya repeated softly, “Why are you here?”

Arthur turned his head, considering the tree again, or looking for the proper words to answer.

“I don’t know.”

He truly didn’t. The confrontation with his father had left him empty, and sick. Returning to his place had seemed like a colossal task he had not had the strength to pursue. Suddenly, he had craved for softness and innocence, rather than the solace of loneliness and bourbon, and he had ended up on her doorstep. Right now, with her liquid eyes searching his face, the alcohol seemed a better idea.

Arthur got up.

“I have to go.”

“Arthur…”

“I’ll call you. Good night.”

Maya stared at the door for a long time after it closed behind him. She trusted that Arthur coldly calculated his every move in their relationship. So why was her heart murmuring something about delusion and second chances?

***

Tristan rapped on the door and passed his head through the half-opening. The young woman gestured for him to enter, the receiver jammed below her jaw as she typed furiously on her keyboard.

“No, Arthur, not yet…Yes, I’ll let you know…Yes…Bye.”

She put the phone back into place, pressed a couple more keys, and then looked up at her cousin.

“Hello.”

“Hi. What’s with the frenzy?”

Maya pushed one strand of hair from her face.

“The catering service wants to trade ginger-bread and cupcakes for something with carrots, and the agency suddenly decided they need half of the amount in advance for the puppets…”

He pouted. “I totally object about the carrots.”

“So did I. But they’re not happy. The cook lectured me for twenty minutes about nutrition and health care. They do that all the time, I’m starting to think we will hire another caterer next time.”

“I guess having Arthur on your back for whatever he was asking is not really helpful either.”

Maya smiled up her sleeve. The two men had apparently agreed on a truce of some sort the previous Saturday, yet it didn’t mean Tristan had completely forgotten the past. She twisted her neck to relax the tension there, tired.

“He just wanted to know if Matthew’s test results were back. It’s nice of him to call…”

His fingers drummed on his knee absently.

“I suppose. Anyway, I didn’t come to talk about Arthur.”

Maya frowned as her computer beeped to announce a new email had arrived.

“Is there something wrong?”

“I don’t know yet.”

More drumming. Maya abandoned her work to stare at her cousin.

“I contacted the bank.”

“Really? Why didn’t you check the account through the system?”

Ill at ease, Tristan straightened up in his chair. “I didn’t want Moira to find out. I think she knows full well what’s wrong with the Foundation.”

“Of course not, how can you say that!”

“Maya…”

“Just because the two of you had a fight, it doesn’t mean she’s guilty of something! She was sad because Cedric was away, that’s all!!”

Tristan sighed, looking for another angle to explain. “Didn’t you notice she is more and more of a lunatic every day? Or that she has lost some weight?”

“She works a lot.”

“So do you, but you don’t automatically have a row with whoever walks your way.”

“Sometimes I do.”

He insisted. “There’s a problem with Moira, and you know it.”

She couldn’t believe Tristan was saying such things. She didn’t want to believe he was.

Robert had said to ask Moira about the finances. Now Tristan believed there was something wrong with her sister. Robert she didn’t care about, but Tristan she did. He was the practical one; he looked at things with objectivity, never jumping to conclusions without thinking it through.

Maya glanced away. As much as she didn’t want to believe him, deep down she knew her cousin was right. “Will you let me know what you find? Please?”

“Of course I will.”

Tristan walked around the desk to take her into his arms. The young woman let him hug her, her nose lost in his shoulder, seeking some comfort for the difficulties to come.

A cheerful voice interrupted them.

“Maya, tell me you’re not trying to steal another man from me.”

Grinning, she circled her cousin’s neck with both arms and kissed his jaw noisily.

“Oh I don’t know…Tall, dark, handsome, good dancer, well-bred; I might.”

Isobel laughed.

“You’re not that annoyed with Arthur, darling. Plus, you’ll need my help with your dress…”

***

Maya smoothed the fabric on her hips, looking at her image in the mirror of the small changing room. The movement wrinkled the velvet, which shone softly. The dress was lovely.

Isobel called through the curtain.

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s nice…”

“Then you need to try another one.”

She sighed. Her friend had said exactly the same thing twice already. She loved the three dresses, this one, the red silk, and the blue satin. The blue gown neckline was so low she blushed just looking at herself in the mirror. The red dress was clung to her curves in such a way that she was feeling nearly naked, and incredibly powerful…If she had known Arthur’s favorite color, it would have been easier.

Maya chastised herself. Arthur’s liking was not the point, absolutely not.

“What color is your dress, Isobel?”

“Light green, with a touch of grey.”

Grey and green meant the one she was wearing at the moment was out of the question. Maya nibbled at her upper lip, hesitant. One hand appeared above the door.

“Try this one.”

Isobel’s choice was white and seemed to catch every ray of light to transform them into gold. The fabric was light, marvellously soft and bright.

“You look like an angel…”

The embellished one-shoulder strap wrapped the fabric so it moulded closely to her chest and left her shoulders bare. She whirled and the skirt flowed around her legs like water. The ankle-length skirt was slit up the thigh on one side. Maya laughed.

“I don’t feel like one…”

The grey eyes fixed on her gleamed with mischief and Isobel winked.

“Even better. Poor Arthur will never know what hit him.”

Maya stopped playing with her skirt. Isobel poked her arm.

“Come on, Maya, I know a set-up when I saw one.”

She swallowed, unsure if she should deny it or just admit the truth.

Isobel winked and left the dressing room to let her change, grinning and grabbing the dismissed dresses to hand the items back to the clerk. Her friends were fooling themselves just as much as they were fooling Robert and the rest of the world. She knew Arthur well enough to notice his behavior around Maya was different; his guard was lower and he acted less harshly, as if he cared. Maya was harder to read, but there was something in her way of accepting Arthur around her, in her blushes and in her smiles, which spoke volumes about what her reaction would be if Arthur tried to charm her for real. As to whether or not one sexy dress was going to be enough for them to accept it…