Been In Love Before: A Novel (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I don’t want to be disturbed . . . by anyone. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” said Bashir as Mickey rushed past his desk outside his office. “Oh, by the way, sir, these tickets came for you from the travel agent today.”

“What are they?” he asked, turning and pausing with his hand on the doorknob.

“For your trip.”

He took the tickets, mumbling to himself, “What trip?” Then he looked at the paperwork. Travel arrangements from Angus—for his trip to Australia.
Damn him.
He set the tickets on his desk.

He sat down in his chair and looked out over the scene of South Florida and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean below. A group of pelicans flew in formation, in no rush at all. Drivers drove by in convertibles, taking advantage of the gorgeous weather. South Florida was such a beautiful place. He loved it. It would be a good place to raise a family and settle down.
Nice beach day,
he thought. Usually on a day like today, he would call Mary Kate and they would slink away to the beach, grab some champagne and cheese, and just watch the waves roll in and roll out—but not today.
Mary Kate.
He could not get her out of his mind.
I trusted her. But now? What the hell is going on?

His phone rang. He ignored it. It rang again.

He finally picked it up. “I said I didn’t want to be disturbed!” he shouted, and hung up.

There was a knock on the door, and it began to swing open. It was not like Bashir to ignore his requests. Now he was mad. “What the hell do I have to do to get some privacy around here? Is what I want . . .”

The door fully opened and there she stood . . . Mary Kate.

Seeing her with tears in her eyes, he was without words.
Take the pain away, goddamn it.
He never wanted to hurt her. Never.

Mary Kate stood there; she was afraid she had hurt him. She had to go to him, tell him what was going on. “Hi,” she whispered quietly as the door closed behind her. “Can we talk? I really want to explain . . .”

The fury returned as he recalled the scene. “There’s no need to explain. I saw what I saw. You, hugging some other man . . . behind my back. I think that about says it all.”

“No, it doesn’t. And if we are going to make it in our marriage, then we need to be able to communicate with each other and . . . trust each other.”

Her words calmed him.

“The man you saw me with today was a Delray Beach police lieutenant by the name of Max Haines.” She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “He was the officer in charge of the investigation into my mother’s death. He found the man, and I was so happy. We dated a few times. He wanted it to go further, but I didn’t and broke it off.”

“And now you’re back to hugging him in public?” he blurted out.

“I needed his help with getting Calley away from her husband. He was abusing her, and Max is the only one able to help me. I think she’s being held against her will at her home. I saw her, and she looked pretty bad. That’s why I went to see him today . . . for coffee. That’s it. End of story. All right?”

She stood and started to walk to the door.

“Mary Kate. Wait.” He went to her and slowly put his arms around her. “I was wrong, dead wrong. I love you. And it breaks my heart to see you in tears. I should have waited and talked to you—right then and there. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He gave her a funny face, then said, “Wait a minute. You’re the one caught hugging some strange guy, some old flame who has the hots for you, and I’m the one who’s apologizing? Something’s wrong with this picture.”

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be, my dear,” she said, grabbing her purse from the chair. “And, oh, don’t forget we’re having dinner tonight with my father at the Ke’e Grill in Boca. Pick me up at six thirty?”

“Okay. See you then.”

And with that she was gone.

He sat down in his chair and toyed with the travel documents in his hand. He pressed the button for the intercom. “Bashir, can you get my father on the phone for me, please? Thank you.” He knew what he had to do, and now was the time to do it. He knew the worst was yet to come.

Thirty minutes later he was driving home to shower and get ready to have dinner with Mary Kate and her father.
What a day,
he thought to himself.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

As they drove to the restaurant, Mary Kate spent the whole time on the phone with the wedding planner discussing the entrées for the wedding, the color of the flowers, the color of the favors, the place mats, the dresses, and the corsages. She also talked about the music the band was going to be playing and in what order. She told Mickey about the ring bearers and who would be performing the church service. It was being held at the Chapel-by-the-Sea on the island of Palm Beach. Very exclusive. Very expensive.

Mickey had something to tell her, something important. He had to tell her and tried, but he knew that now was not the time. It would have to wait until after dinner.

He smiled as Mary Kate read off list after list of things that needed to be attended to for the wedding, but he could not take his eyes off her. She looked ravishing in her crisp linen pants and soft silk blouse, slightly unbuttoned at the top. He could see the lace pattern of her bra through the sheer material. She caught him stealing glances at her while they drove to dinner.

“What?” she asked with a demure smile.

“You look wonderful tonight,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said as she placed her hand on his leg, absentmindedly massaging it as she continued with her list.

His attention was now diverted elsewhere. He was glad when they pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. He kissed her, once, twice, then a third time. “I love you,” he said.

She kissed him again as his hand slipped down to her waist.

“Come on, lover boy, I know how this ends, and my father is waiting for us. And besides, I’m starving. Later.” They walked hand in hand to the restaurant.

Ke’e Grill in Boca Raton was a casually elegant restaurant, the finest in Palm Beach County. The decor, with its South Pacific theme—oversize stuffed swordfish hanging on the walls and informal tiki tables—made for an intimate evening with some of the best food in South Florida. The bar was cozy and, with its accommodating bartenders, made for a comfortable place for the inevitable wait for a table at this popular bistro.

Still holding his hand, she saw her father sitting at one of the coveted window tables and waved to him.

“Hey, there they are, the lovebirds,” said her father as they approached. He kissed his daughter on the cheek and shook Mickey’s hand.

“Good to see you again, Dr. Macgregor.”

“Hey, Mickey, call me Ryan, okay? We’re family now . . . or close enough. Just one more week until the big event.” He wore a huge grin on his face.

They ordered cocktails and toasted to good health after the waiter brought their drinks to the table.

She looked at her father and asked, “How are the dance lessons going, Dad?”

“Alexi is a very nice person and a good dance instructor.”

“And very attractive at that,” interjected Mickey.

“Mickey,” Mary Kate said, elbowing him in the ribs, “behave. Dad, have you found a date yet? For the wedding?” she asked as she sipped her martini.

“Not yet.”

“Father. I’ve only asked two things of you: one was to brush up on your dancing, and the other was—”

“I was going to ask Alexi . . . the dance instructor,” he interrupted.

“Oh?” Mary Kate responded, sounding surprised.

“You don’t approve?”

“No, to the contrary, I wholeheartedly approve. Have you asked her yet?”

“No, not yet. I’m a little rusty at this. It’s been a long time.” He stopped, looking perplexed. “But what if she says no?”

“She won’t be able to say anything unless you ask her, Dad. Go ahead, ask her. My guess is you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

The young waiter dressed in a white polo shirt came by and took their dinner orders. By this time the restaurant was full; a crowd of patrons waited patiently at the bar.

Ryan smiled and turned his attention to his future son-in-law. “What exactly is it that you do again, Mickey?”

“I am in the commercial real estate development business. The firm I work for is called Boston Real Estate Advisors, although now more than sixty percent of our business is located here in the southeast—and growing rapidly. This area also provides more than eighty percent of the firm’s profits.”

“Wow,” said Ryan.

“And Mickey runs it from right here in Boca Raton,” Mary Kate interjected proudly.

He smiled before continuing. “We’re totally turnkey—buying the land, planning, developing, and renting the properties. Rather unusual hybrid business approach, but it works.”

“Public or privately held business?”

“Private. It’s a family business. I work for my father . . . or rather, my adoptive father.”

She cleared her throat and after sipping her drink asked, “Have you heard back from your folks yet, Mickey? Are they coming? To the wedding?” she whispered, not wanting to put him on the defensive.

He had planned to wait until later to tell her everything, but now he had no choice; he did not want to lie to her or her father. He took in a deep breath. “Well, my mother called me tonight just before I left my condo to pick you up and . . . she told me she was coming.”

Mary Kate’s eyes and face brightened with a huge smile as she leaned over to hug him. “That’s fantastic. For a while there, I didn’t know if they were going to come. It’s going to be great to have your mom and dad here for our . . .”

“Just my mother.” He paused before saying, “Not my father.”

The joy left her face. “What do you mean? Your father’s not coming to our wedding?”

“No. He’s not coming.” He knew a storm was brewing.

Her father interceded. “Perhaps it would better if the two of you discussed this later, privately. Among yourselves.”

“Thank you, sir, but this does involve you, and I would welcome any advice you may have. Please?”

“Okay. What’s going on?”

“My father has been using an Australian business trip as an excuse not to attend my wedding.”

“Why on earth would he not want to attend your wedding? I don’t understand. Did you have a fight with him? Is it something we did? Or didn’t do?”

Mickey raised his hand to the waiter to order another round of cocktails. “This sounds like a two-martini discussion.” The drinks arrived quickly along with their dinner, and he resumed his explanation. “My father is an old-time Scotsman. Tradition is everything to him. He is the grand leader of the Highlanders Scottish Lodge in Boston. It is the oldest Scottish fraternal club of its kind.”

“Yes, we’re very familiar with the organization. My brother, Robert, is the grand pooh-bah, so to speak, at a Scottish lodge here in Delray.”

“Well, when he heard . . .” Mickey stopped short, not really wanting to go on.

Ryan could tell by the look on his face that he was struggling. “Go ahead, Mickey, spit it out.”

“Well, when he heard that Mary Kate and I were getting married, he blew his top.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a . . . Macgregor and . . . our family are Campbells. I never gave it a second thought. It’s ridiculous, and it never bothered me, but it sure bothered him. He says he still believes in the Macgregor-versus-Campbell feud that’s been going on for the last four hundred years. Therefore, he has refused to attend our wedding next week. I don’t know what to do. But my mother is coming, and now she’s angry with him and not talking to him. Hell, maybe we should just elope and just say the hell with it.”

Mary Kate looked at him with a subtle grin. “Nice try, Mickey, but you’re not getting off that easy. We’ll figure out something.”

“There’s more.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Well, he’s a hardheaded Scotsman. His latest trick was to try to send me to Australia for two weeks to handle a business deal he’s been working on.”

“What? When?”

“Tomorrow.”

She looked at him in horror. “Mickey, our wedding is next week. What are we going to do?”

“Already taken care of.” He paused again. This was not how he had envisioned telling her.
I should have told her earlier, alone, in the car. She has a right to know. Suck it up and spit it out.
“Red, I quit my job today. So . . . I’m now in the ranks of the unemployed. Do you still love me?”

“Hmmm, do you need an answer right away?” she joked, then hugged him. “Of course I love you; I always will.” He kissed her once, then again, until her father coughed to clear his throat.

The table was silent until Graw asked, “But Mickey, surely there must be something more to it than some old Scottish feud?”

Mickey paused for a minute. “There is. Growing up I played with Angus Campbell’s son, Bryce Campbell. We were the best of friends—no, he was my best friend—until . . .” He could not go on.

“What happened?” Graw whispered, clutching his arm tight.

“Well, one Halloween night we were supposed to out together, but I was grounded and had to stay at home. He went with a couple other guys from school and pulled a prank on some neighbor’s front porch, knocking out the porch light. Well, the man thought someone was trying to break into his house and came to the door and shot Bryce with a gun. Killed him. He was arrested, but Bryce was gone. My best friend gone in an instant, all because of some dumb prank. We were as close as brothers.”

“What does his death have to do with him and the Macgregors?” she asked.

“The man who shot and killed their son was named . . . Macgregor.”

“So he holds all Macgregors accountable for this senseless act?” asked Ryan.

“Yes, sir. I know it seems convoluted, but that’s my father. He needed desperately to blame somebody or something for this tragedy. Sometimes I think he even blames me for not being with him that night and keeping him from harm’s way.”

“And you quit your job because of it?” she asked.

“Yes, I could not see any other way out of the situation. It would just get worse and worse unless he changed or I went to work somewhere else. Something had to change. He certainly won’t.”

The waiter took their dessert orders, and they sat glumly in their seats.

Mickey tried to cheer them up by saying, “Hey, everybody, I knew what I was doing. I’m a big boy. My father will come around eventually; he usually does when my mother is involved. But I thought to myself, maybe it’s time for me to do something else at another firm. I don’t think it will take me long to find another job. I already made a couple of phone calls and have two job opportunities lined up next week. One is a partnership with a big local firm looking to do deals like I’ve been doing for the last couple of years.” He paused and looked her in the eyes, looking for a signal from her.

“I’m also giving some thought to going out on my own—you know, doing some consulting work as a boutique real estate consultant. Either way, we won’t starve, Mary Kate, trust me. Everything will be fine.”

“I love you regardless.” She smiled at Mickey and turned to her father, who seemed to be a million miles away, lost in his own thoughts. “Daddy? What’s the problem?”

“Well, you may have solved Mickey’s issues, but now we have a new one to deal with—my brother Robert. He’s just as hardheaded about the feud between the Macgregors and the Campbells. Maybe even more so. He’s going to hit the roof when he hears of this.”

What the hell was he going to do now? How was he going to tell his brother that Mary Katherine was marrying a Campbell? He couldn’t tell him; his brother would just have to find out on his own. That’s all there was to it. He would have to just live with it.

Ryan raised his glass for a final salute. “To the Macgregors!” he toasted.

“And to the Campbells!” Mickey responded.

“Long live Scotland,” Mary Kate chimed in with the traditional Scottish salute, but for some reason the toast rang hollow that night.