Against the Wall (Stoddard Art School Series Book 3) (24 page)

“Shit, I don’t carry that kind of cash on me. I was lying about the eight.”

“Then good luck getting to Boston.” He laughed as he closed his computer and slipped it into a battered leather briefcase.

The call came over the speaker that they were loading first class and premier members. Bear scrambled to open his wallet. “Fine, fifteen hundred. Listen, I have six hundred and…” He counted. “…forty-seven bucks. Here’s my business card and my credit card. I promise I’m good for it. As soon as I reach Boston, I’ll wire you the rest of the money.”

“Like I believe that.” The man shook his head and pushed past him.

Bear called after him. “This credit card has a three-thousand-dollar cap. If you don’t have your money in forty-eight hours, go nuts.”

That stopped him. The man turned and narrowed his gaze. “What makes you think I won’t go nuts anyway?”

“I trust you.”

The man snorted. “Good way to get screwed.”

“I have to get on this plane.” Bear pushed the bills at him. “Please.”

He looked past the money, giving Bear a head to toe sweep. “How do I know you’re not a terrorist?”

“Really?” Frustration surged through Bear. “What terrorist hands out his business card?

“Lemme guess, this has something to do with a dame.”

Bear held his hands up in surrender. “Guilty.”

The loud speaker informed them they were now boarding families with small children and anyone needing assistance.

He was running out of time. “Come on. Do it for romance.”

The man shook his head while he grabbed the handle on his carry-on bag and headed toward the gate. “I have three ex-wives.”

“Then do it for…hell, I don’t know…” Bear noticed a familiar logo on the man’s luggage tag. “The Red Sox. Do it for the Red Sox. Bet with the money you could get some great seats at Fenway.”

Ten minutes later, Bear was clicking the seat belt and making sure his tray table was secured.

He’d given up calling the inn. Either Kay wasn’t there, or she couldn’t hear the phone. He gave Walter a quick call, but he hadn’t seen Kay. Walter did promise to check over at the inn for her.

Only when the wheels of the plane left the tarmac, did Bear begin to relax. They’d get into Boston by seven. It would be late by the time he reached Bell Harbor, but he’d have this whole mess settled and be back in Kay’s arms before midnight.

About forty-five minutes into their flight, the pilot made an announcement. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ve been getting some bad news out of Boston, folks. Seems tropical storm Daphne headed up the coast has turned into hurricane Daphne with sustained winds near seventy miles an hour. ATC has directed us to divert this flight to Hartford. We may encounter a bit of turbulence between here and there, so I’m turning on the seat belt sign as a precaution.”

“Wait.” Bear questioned the woman seated next to him. “Did he say Hartford?”

“He sure did.”

“How the hell are we getting to Boston?”

As if to answer his question, the next announcement was from their flight attendant. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are sorry for the inconvenience, but be assured there will be gate agents waiting when we land in Hartford who will assist with overnight accommodations and alternative arrangements to get you all to your final destinations. In the meantime, sit back and relax. If we have any further updates, we’ll be sure to bring them to you. As the captain has instructed, please return to your seats and observe the fasten seat belt signs. Thank you.”

Passengers grumbled throughout the plane as seat belts clicked back into place.

“What does that mean exactly?” asked Bear to no one in particular.

“Means we’re spending the night in Connecticut, courtesy of this fine airline.” The woman next to him shrugged. “They’ll either fly us out first thing tomorrow, or if the storm moves off, they’ll probably stuff us all into buses and drive us to Boston tonight.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I’m up for another night of room service with someone else picking up the tab.”

Bear dodged the crowd gathered around the promised gate agents and headed straight for the car rental counter. “I need a car.” Thank goodness he had another credit card. At this rate, he’d lay money on Steve Griffin, aka Mr. Red Sox, reaching his final destination before him and using his other card to “go nuts.” Bear set the second card along with his license on the counter.

“Well, let’s see. It’s been a busy evening. What type of vehicle were you interested in?”

Bear gave the man his best defensemen stare. “Four wheels and a gas pedal.”

The rental agent gave him a tight little smile. “I see.” He tapped the keyboard in front of him rapidly, shooting nervous glances toward his computer screen and then back to Bear. He tugged at his collar. “I have nothing in midsize…or economy class…”

“Anything. I’ll take anything you’ve got.”

More tapping. The man behind the counter started to sweat. “I do have two luxury cars due back later this evening.”

“How much later?”

“Well, hard to say. We close at eleven.”

Bear scrubbed at his jaw. Frustration had turned it into granite. Holding his anger in check, he joked. “Let me guess, you have a brother Tom who sells mattresses?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Nothing.” Bear gripped the edge of the counter. “I’m done listening to what you don’t have. What
do
you have? Something that’s actually sitting in your lot. I see keys over there—” He gestured to the counter behind the man. “What are those for? I’ll take one of those.”

“Well…those aren’t—”

“What. Do. You. Have?”

Bear secured yet another seatbelt. Had anger, worry, and complete frustration not been raging through him, he’d be laughing. Hysterically. Until white-coated attendants dragged him off to a rubber room.

Glancing over his shoulder, he shook his head as he jammed the key into the ignition of the eighteen-passenger transit van. All he needed now was some choir group going on a church picnic singing
Kum ba yah
in the back.

His phone was officially dead. Even if he had his charger; A, he hadn’t packed the car adapter for it, and B, even if he had, his luggage was now flying toward Los Angeles with his certifiable ex-wife.

Bear pulled out onto the highway heading north. A light rain had begun to fall. It took him ten minutes just to find the windshield wiper switch. The vehicle handled like a refrigerator box, and the front end pulled to the left. The whole van shimmied at speeds over fifty miles an hour, but the good news was the brakes worked. He’d almost stood this beast on its nose the first time he stepped on the pedal.

Didn’t matter. What mattered was getting to Bell Harbor, finding Kay, and trying to convince her that breaking her heart was not what he had planned for today. All he could think about was three dozen red roses like three dozen fists hitting her. He couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking.

He pushed hard on the accelerator until the front end began to dance. He had to get there. The sun was setting behind rain-filled clouds. Bear flipped on his headlights and focused on the road. It was going to be a long ride.

“Dammit,” Bear shouted at the traffic in front of him.

Now he couldn’t get that stupid
Kum ba yah
song out of his head!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kay wedged in the last box and struggled to get the hatch door to secure. The wind had picked up. It moaned through the tops of the pines as they bent under a pewter sky.

Only thing left for her to do was coax Hope into the carrier, load her in the last spot on the passenger seat, and point her overstuffed car west. Some cat treats, a long feather, and some catnip should work.

After that, her road was clear—and empty. She didn’t have a clue as to where she was heading. Back to Stoddard? Somewhere new? She just had to be gone from Bell Harbor. It didn’t matter where she went. She’d figure it out on the way.

Each time she stopped long enough to think, the memory of opening the white box…the smell of those roses. Grabbing them by the fistfuls and throwing them to the floor. How many had he sent? She didn’t count. The box seemed bottomless, and she couldn’t see through the tears and the hurt. Even Todd hadn’t been so cruel.

Tears threatened again, but Kay doubted she had any more left to shed. She laid cool fingers over her eyes. No more.

A car pulling into the graveled pad behind her startled Kay. The familiar silver BMW came to a stop.

“I see you’re still running.” Claire jerked her chin in the direction of Kay’s car as she slid from the driver’s seat.

Now that Kay knew the truth about her mother’s illness, she could clearly see the signs. She was thinner, paler. Claire tugged her cardigan tight against the rising winds.

Kay shrugged. “It’s easier this way.”

“Sometimes.” She shivered. “Could we go inside? It’s freezing.”

Kay hesitated. Part of her didn’t want another show down with her mother. She’d already been through the emotional wringer, but there was something in her mother’s manner. “If you’ve come here to gloat…”

“No. Don’t you think it’s time we talked?” Claire didn’t wait for an answer before heading toward the stairs. “I need a hot cup of tea, and you look like you could use one yourself.”

“Did Dottie send you?” Kay followed in her wake.

“No. I wanted to come.” In the kitchen, it was Claire who filled the kettle and put it on the stove. “There are things I need to say to you, and I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a chance and just listen.”

Kay was hit by another wave of sadness that their relationship had been reduced to this. Things could have been so different between them.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, you do not.” She pointed to a chair. “Sit.” Claire pulled two cups from the cupboard. “I promise I’ll make it short and sweet.”

Kay sat. Claire busied herself with finding teabags, sugar, spoons. Kay waited. She could still hear the wind and couldn’t help but compare the building of the storm outside to what might be building in this kitchen.

Claire didn’t speak again until they were both dunking their teabags by their paper tags in steaming cups of water. “So, you’re all packed up ready to go. Where are you headed?”

“Does it matter?” Kay stirred her tea.

“It matters to me. I’d like to know where to find you.” She met Kay surprised gaze. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m not a monster, you know. I do care. I may not have been a great mother, but I always knew where you were, and how you were doing.” Claire opened her arms wide. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“To sell the cottage.” Kay sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes, and no. I wanted to see you.”

Kay dropped her arms and refocused on her mug. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it’s true whether you believe it or not,” Claire snapped, then she seemed to catch herself. “Dottie told you…about my health issues. And, well, I’ve been forced to take a step back and look at things from a new perspective.”

“Dottie didn’t tell me anything other than you were sick. Per your instructions.” Kay pointed an accusing finger at her mother.

“Kay…I’ve never been one of those women who shares every small, intimate detail of their lives with everyone from the bagboy at the Shop n’ Save to the Pope.”

“I’m hardly the bagboy at the Shop n’ Save. Telling your daughter you might be dying isn’t a small detail, Mother.”

“It’s not as if we have the kind of relationship where I could pick up the phone and say, Hey, Honey, I have cancer.”

The C word sucked the air from Kay’s lungs. She suspected, of course, but a tiny corner of her brain prayed she was wrong. “H-how bad it is?”

“Bad enough. I’ve had the surgery. They ran new scans. Next week I meet with my doctors, and we’ll discuss the results and further treatment options from there.”

“You could have told me.” Kay’s voice sounded small.

“I could have. Maybe I was…afraid.”

“Claire Winston, afraid? You’re the toughest woman I know. You’re not afraid of anything.”

“I’m afraid of this.” Claire frowned into her cup. “You were so angry. For so long. And rightly so. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to think, in time, I could fix things. That maybe I wouldn’t have to tell anyone.”

“I’m sure Charles—”

“Charles was destroyed by the news. He always played the stoic, tough man, but when the doctors told him my prognosis, he refused to believe them. Spent months researching holistic medicines and new experimental treatments, but in the end, he couldn’t deal with it.” Claire sipped her tea. “He left me a few weeks ago.”

“Bastard! How could he?”

“Don’t.” Claire held up a hand to stop her. “No matter your opinion, he’s still a decent man. Weak. Frightened. But he gave me a great life.”

“In exchange for your daughter,” Kay countered.

“I was weak and frightened too, back then,” Claire rushed to explain. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I grew up poor. The poorest of the poor. Do you know I never had a pair of new shoes until I met Charles? I always wore hand-me-downs. Never my own. New shoes, still in the box with tissue in the toes. I think I cried the first time I wore them.”

Claire moved to take Kay’s hand but stopped and pulled back. “I didn’t want that for you. Scratching for every penny. Yes, I made mistakes, but you never went to bed hungry. You were always dressed in clothes without patches and had a roof over your head. It was a lot more than I had growing up.”

“Until Charles kicked me out.” Kay couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“I should have fought him harder, I know.”

“You didn’t fight him at all.”

“But look at you. You’ve made it despite us. I’m not the tough one, you are. You’re strong. So much stronger than I’ve ever been. And so talented. Your mural at the inn blew me away. Your future is set, and after I’m gone, you’ll be a wealthy young woman. I named you beneficiary on my life insurance.”

Kay stared at her. “I don’t want your money. I want my mother.”

“I’m right here.” Claire reached out again, and this time, laid a hand on Kay’s arm.