Prodigal Son (11 page)

“No, thanks.”

He poured one for himself and took a sip. “I don’t know where everything went wrong with my dad and his sons.”

“You probably never will. Sometimes families have trouble connecting.”

“If Mom hadn’t died…” He shrugged and took another sip.

She stood. There was something different about Jack. He was hurting and that pain made him vulnerable. She’d never seen him as anything but strong and powerful, so this side of him surprised her.

She crossed to him and put her arms around him. “You did the best you could.”

“Maybe. Can we change the subject?”

“Sure.” She gazed up into his eyes. “You were right about making us practice. It made a big difference.”

He smiled and put down his drink. “I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Yes, you are.”

He put his arms around her and drew closer. “I was right about you and the job.”

She laughed. “So we’re going to make a list of all your perfections?”

“I have the time.”

She glanced at the closed door. “Or we could do something else.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Ms. Edwards, it’s the middle of a workday.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you making advances at me?”

“Actually, I was just sort of noticing how very big your desk is. I like a big desk.”

Chapter Ten

“Y
ou’ve sent them e-mails?” Jack asked, frustrated because he already knew the answer to the question.

“Repeatedly,” Mrs. Wycliff said. “I also sent letters using overnight delivery. I know the letters were received—Evan and Andrew had to sign for them.”

His brothers were ignoring his attempts to get in touch with them. He suspected they were following the financial news and knew about the trouble with the company. He had a feeling neither of them would resurface until things were better or it was time for the reading of the will—whichever came first.

Someone knocked on his open door. He glanced up and saw David standing in the doorway.

Jack excused his assistant and waved in his uncle.

“Did you hear?” he asked.

“Most of it,” David said. “Evan and Andrew are still refusing to get in touch with you?”

Jack nodded. “I don’t suppose either of them has contacted you and asked you not to say anything about it.”

“Sorry, no.”

“We haven’t spoken in years,” Jack said. “How the hell did that happen? When did this family get so screwed up?”

“Your mother’s death didn’t help.”

“I was just thinking that a few days ago. If she’d been alive, so much would have been different, but with her gone it was easy to go our separate ways.”

“George didn’t help,” David admitted. “He was more interested in the business than in his family.”

Jack nodded slowly. “I remember when I was young, people would tell me I was just like him. That always scared me. I knew I loved my father, but I wasn’t sure I liked him. I wanted more than that from my kids.”

“You don’t have any kids,” his uncle reminded him.

“I noticed that, too. After Shelby…” He shook his head. No reason to go there. “I think one of the reasons may be it’s the only way to make sure I don’t repeat his mistakes.”

“Kind of like cutting off your arm to make sure you don’t get a hangnail.”

“You’re saying I’m taking things to the extreme.”

David shrugged. “You know what your father did that you didn’t like. So don’t do that.”

Sounded simple enough. “When I was a kid, I didn’t know what I was doing that made people think I was like him, so I didn’t know how to stop doing it.”

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

“None of us are,” Jack said. “I haven’t talked to Evan and Andrew in years and ever since I’ve been working at this damn company, I miss them. Oh, sure, I want them home to do what they need to be doing. I want them to help out. But I also want to talk to them. Hang out. Like we used to. We were a family once.”

“Maybe it’s time to make that happen again,” David said. “Maybe it’s time to start pulling together instead of pulling apart.”

“I’m willing. What I don’t know is how to do it. I can’t even get my brothers to return my e-mails. I’m ready to resort to threats.”

“Might not be a bad idea. Get them back for any reason, even if it’s just to protect their personal interest.”

“I agree,” Jack said, “but I don’t like it. They’re my brothers. I shouldn’t have to use threats to get them to communicate with me. There has to be another way.”

“I’m out of ideas,” David told him.

Jack was, too, but he knew someone who might not be.

* * *

“How do I get my brothers back?” Jack asked.

Helen raised her eyebrows. “Why do you think I would know the answer to that?”

“Because I’ve finally figured out you know us a whole lot better than we know you. I need them here and I’ll do anything to get them in Chicago.”

“Even ask for my help.” She smiled. “Evil stepmothers are often invisible. It can come in handy.”

“I never thought you were evil.”

“I know. You simply didn’t think of me at all. I wasn’t trying to be your mother. I just wanted to be a friend.”

“I couldn’t think of you as anything but my father’s wife.”

“His
second
wife,” she said. “We all know what that means.”

Had she wanted more? Had she wanted it all?

She didn’t have children, he thought. And at her age, she was unlikely to have any. Had his father been the reason there weren’t any little Helens running around? Maybe George would have had better luck with a second family.

She held up both her hands. “Okay, this conversation is getting out of hand. Since your dad died, I’ve been living on the emotional edge and if we continue like this any longer, I’m going to find myself sobbing uncontrollably. I think we’d both find that uncomfortable. So let’s talk about your brothers. Who do you want to start with?”

“I’ll let you pick.”

She considered for a moment. “Andrew will come home for money. You’re going to have to be blunt. Either he shows up or you cut him off. Cruel but effective. You might want to start by cutting off one of his credit cards so he gets the message.”

“Done,” Jack said. “And Evan?”

Helen sighed. “He’ll come home for the reading of the will. He always wanted to be close to George and he’ll be looking for closure.”

“Then if Dad left him anything, it would prove Evan mattered to him?”

“Something like that.”

“I hope he’s not disappointed,” Jack muttered.

“Me, too.”

“I know you loved the old man, but he wasn’t exactly father of the year.”

Helen nodded slowly. “He tried, in his own flawed way. He loved you all.”

“He loved the business more.”

“No. He loved it differently. It was safe to let everyone know how he felt about the business. It never went away and did something he didn’t approve of.”

“Like his sons,” Jack said.

“Some parents have trouble understanding that when a child makes a decision that the parent doesn’t approve of, it’s not personal. Children are their own people—they have to make their own lives.”

“My father wanted me to live his life.”

She smiled. “He couldn’t understand that what you chose to do for your career had nothing to do with him. He’s the one who gave you choices, and then he was angry with what you picked.”

“So was I,” Jack admitted. “It was as if he’d changed the rules partway through the game.”

“He had, but he still loved you.”

Jack studied the woman who had married his father. She looked different since the funeral. She’d become elegant in her sorrow.

He could see why his father had been drawn to her. The combination of brains and beauty.

“You were good to him,” he said.

She smiled. “You don’t actually know that.”

“Yes, I do. It’s there in the way you talk about him. You were more than he deserved. He got lucky when he picked you.”

“Maybe I was the lucky one.”

She was consistent. He would give her that.

He narrowed his gaze. “You’re good at this, at listening and offering just the right amount of advice and encouragement. You should have had children of your own.”

Helen stiffened slightly, which answered the question he hadn’t asked.

“I, ah—”

“It was him, wasn’t it? He said he didn’t want to start another family.”

She sighed. “It seemed like the right decision at the time.”

“And now?” he asked.

“There’s no going back.”

He had the feeling that she hadn’t asked for much in her marriage, but his father had refused her the one thing she’d really wanted.

“He was a selfish bastard.”

“Don’t say that. I made my choices and I loved your father. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t change anything. He was a great man.” She held up her hand. “You don’t have to agree with me on that, but I know it to be true. I loved him. I will never love that way again.”

There was a certainty and a power in the way she spoke. For the first time in his life, he envied his father. Not because he had any romantic feelings for Helen, but because the old man had been loved completely. Helen saw his faults and accepted them. She believed he was the great love of her life.

At one time Jack had wanted that for himself. He’d believed he’d found it with Shelby, but he’d been wrong.

* * *

“Back up,” Jack said.

Samantha held in a low moan. “See, I was thinking I could go through life in Drive rather than Reverse. Sort of like letting go of the past. Don’t you think that’s important? To always move forward? It’s a Zen thing. Or if not Zen, then something else Zen-like.” She smiled brightly.

Jack looked at her. “We’re talking about driving, not your life, and one isn’t a metaphor for the other. You’re going to have to learn to back up the car at some point, so why not now?”

She’d been afraid he was going to get all logical on her. “The Zen thing didn’t move you even a little?”

“No.”

“But you have to admit it was clever.”

“Very clever. Now back into the parking space.”

Had he always been this imperious? she thought as she carefully checked the empty parking lot.

There weren’t any other cars to be seen, just ominous white lines marking parking spaces. Very small parking spaces.

“Go slowly,” Jack told her. “Think about where you want the car to go, not where it is. Check for anything in the way, then back up slowly.”

She wasn’t sure when this had become the advanced class, but she was determined not to balk, despite nearly blinding fear.

She drew in a deep breath and looked at where she wanted the car to go. There was a tree there, spindly and gray. She briefly imagined the car’s rear bumper only a foot or so from the tree, then she put the car in Reverse and slowly began to back up.

“Keep your eyes on where you want to be, not where you are,” he said.

“Hey, don’t try to out-Zen the Zen master,” she muttered, still watching the tree. She got closer and closer, then put on the brake and slipped the car into Park.

Jack grinned. “Pretty good,” he said and opened his car door. “Check it out.”

She jumped out and ran to the front of the car. “It’s perfect,” she yelled, ignoring the slight angle of her car. “Perfect. I’m in between the lines and in the middle of the space.” She tilted her head. “Almost.”

Jack walked over and studied the car. She bit her lower lip. Not that she cared what he thought, except she did.

He put an arm around her. “Great job. Let’s do it again.”

* * *

Later that evening, Samantha showed up at his condo with salad fixings and two large slices of chocolate-chip cheesecake. As she shifted the bakery bag to her other hand so she could ring the bell, she realized she’d never been to his place before. All their rendezvous had taken place at her apartment.

“Why is that?” she asked as he opened the front door and waved her in.

“Why is what?”

She waited for his kiss before asking, “Why haven’t I been here before? Are you keeping secrets?”

“Have a look around and see for yourself,” he said as he took her packages from her. “I’ll open the wine.”

An invitation to snoop. How often did that happen? But before she could take him up on it, Charlie came racing toward her.

She dropped down and hugged him. “How’s my handsome guy?” she asked as she rubbed his ears. “Did you have fun this morning at the park?”

Charlie yipped his response, then led her into the condo.

The foyer opened onto a large living room with a to-die-for view of the lake and shoreline. To the left was a U-shaped kitchen with a high granite bar and three stools. Beyond that was a dining alcove that also looked out on the water.

“This place must be terrific during thunderstorms,” she said.

“It is. Most weather looks pretty good if you’re up high enough.”

She took the glass of wine he offered and sipped. The color palette was typical guy—cream walls, beige furniture, black accent tables and cabinets for way too many electronics. Except for the fact that everything was new and expensive, the room reminded her a lot of what he’d had in grad school.

“Despite your fear of it,” she said with a grin, “color doesn’t kill. Imagine what this place would be with a red accent pillow or a bowl of green apples.”

“Imagine.”

Even his artwork was subdued—the two seascapes were muted and dark. There was an impressive abstract in the dining room that was mostly reds and oranges.

“This looks out of place,” she said. “I’m guessing you didn’t buy it.”

He stared at the painting for a long time. Samantha got a twisted feeling in her stomach. There were memories in that painting. Good or bad? she wondered, knowing there was danger in both.

“Helen gave me that when I made partner,” he said quietly. “It was her way of reaching out to me. I should have seen that before, but I didn’t.”

Samantha studied the painting again and felt the relief sift through her. “Helen always had great taste.”

He waved toward the entrance to the hallway. “Have at it.”

“If you insist.”

The first door on the right opened to a small powder room with a pedestal sink. Next was a home office with a television on the wall and more law books than she’d ever seen in her life. There was also a very large and squishy-looking bed for Charlie. She found a linen closet—mostly empty and painfully neat, and, last but not least, the master bedroom.

Once again beige ruled the day. A beige-and-cream bedspread covered the dark wood sleigh bed. There weren’t any throw pillows, nothing decorating the nightstands. Just lamps, a clock and a TV remote.

An armoire stood opposite the bed. She would bet money that inside there was a television, because God forbid he should miss a single play of whatever sports game he was watching. More massive windows offered an incredible view, while the master bath had a steam shower and a tub big enough for two.

Gorgeous, she thought, but impersonal. There weren’t any family pictures, no little items picked up on travels, no magazines lying around. No memories.

“What do you think?” he asked as he walked into the room and leaned against the door frame.

“Beautiful, but a little too beige for my taste.”

“Sorry. I tried to get out and buy a throw for the bed, but time got away from me.”

She laughed. “Do you even know what a throw is?”

“Sure. It’s something that you, ah, throw.”

“What does it look like?”