For the Love of Family (17 page)

Belle stood, appreciating his attempt to make her feel better. She’d definitely celebrate the day he found someone new to love.

“Thanks,” she said. “Have fun on your trip. The ladies are always drooling over you. You just have to notice them.”

“That might be easier to do in Bermuda. Around here they’re a bit eclipsed, if you know what I mean.”

Smiling to acknowledge the compliment, she headed for the door. She knew what he meant, but she also knew he’d get over it.

Just as she would have to get over Matt Malone.

Somehow.

“Oh, and Belle?”

She turned. David had a sheepish smile on his face.
It made him look more gorgeous than ever. But nothing inside her shifted. In her heart, a dark and sardonic face shut out everything else. “What?”

“When I get back, I was thinking. If you’re still interested, I might be in the market for a friend.”

A
S LONG AS SHE WAS
on the world tour of difficult visits, Belle decided to drive out to see her father.

She’d left several messages for him in the past couple of weeks, but he’d ignored them all. Her mother, on the other hand, had been eager to spend time together.

It was true, apparently, that misery loved company. Both of them were brokenhearted, and both pretending not to be. At first they tried denial. They shopped and dined out, bought dueling pedicures, apartment hunted on the Internet and even repainted Belle’s bedroom.

Then they tried wallowing. They watched three-hanky movies till Belle’s glasses fogged up. They nicknamed Belle’s apartment Heartbreak Hotel. And, just to rub salt into the wound, they ordered Cinnamon Diamonds from the nearest Diamante Pizza.

Belle’s streak of rotten luck held. She kept untwisting the pastries long after she was too full to eat another bite. Her lips and fingers were covered in sticky white frosting, but she didn’t find a single ring inside.

Today, they’d decided to put the self-pity party on hold…perhaps permanently. Belle’s mother had a museum board meeting in the afternoon, followed by dinner at a friend’s house. They both knew it was time to put away the hankies and venture back into the real world.

They’d both been several times to see Adam, who was stable, but not quite out of the woods. He still had some speech impairment, and some one-sided paralysis. It would be quite a while, the doctors said, before they could be sure how far his recovery would take him.

But Joe and Sue were with Adam today. So Belle was on her own. She’d already taken her dose of contrition and humility with David. Maybe that put her in the right mind-set for checking in on her dad.

The sun was setting as she arrived, and his silver SUV glowed with a peach-colored light. The bricks that led up to the kitchen door shone, too, as if they’d been lit up in welcome.

Her mother’s tub of begonias spilled over with a hundred blossoms. The ivy creeper fluttered in the breeze.

On the outside, nothing had changed.

But the minute Belle opened the kitchen door and heard the silence, she knew. It was so quiet she could hear the drone of the refrigerator as it cycled through another tray of ice. The air was chilled and stale, as if no one lived here anymore.

“Dad?”

No answer. She put her purse on the kitchen island, next to her mother’s bowl of knitting yarn, and moved into the house. “Dad?”

From the doorway of the TV room, pale gray and blue shadows played on the tile, shifting and blinking like underwater ghosts. She turned in that direction. He must be watching TV. Maybe with his earphones on he couldn’t hear her call.

A habit he likely found hard to break, even though
there was no one else in the house now who could be bothered by his noise.

He had his back to her, but she could tell by his stance that he was practicing putting. The TV was tuned to the news, on mute, which automatically displayed closed captions on the screen: “…and do you really think it’s going to stay this nice all summer, Jim? Not likely, Andrea. You know what Mark Twain said about a summer in San Francisco….”

“Dad?”

He must have had the sound quite loud, because he still didn’t respond. He was scowling at his putter as if the only ingredient necessary to sink the ball was sheer mental intensity.

He took a practice swing or two, each no wider than eighteen inches, and then hit the ball. It landed in the mechanical cup, which lit up and then spat the ball back at him again.

This could go on all night.

She touched his shoulder. “Dad?”

He looked up, flinching. When he saw who it was, he didn’t appear furious, as she’d feared he might, but he didn’t look thrilled, either. You would have thought that playing golf by himself in an empty house, listening to talking heads patter about the weather, piped straight into his brain by a pair of high-tech earbuds, was the most scintillating activity a man could wish for.

“Hello, Isabelle,” he said. He tugged one earphone out and let it dangle. “If you’ve come to apologize, I’m afraid it’s a bit too late.”

No, she thought. She hadn’t come to apologize, because she hadn’t done anything wrong.

But she didn’t say it. New rules. He could bait, but she didn’t have to bite.

“I’ve just come to see if you’re okay. I’m worried about you, Dad. How’ve you been…since Mom left?”

He lined up another putt. “I’ve been fine. I’m not sure what you expected. Did you think I would starve to death? I do know how to cook, you know.”

“Of course.” But that kitchen hadn’t been touched since her mother left, and they both knew it. “I guess I thought you might be lonely.”

He scoffed. “Why? What’s different? It’s not as if she was showering me with TLC day and night. I’d hardly seen her for weeks.” He hit the ball and missed. “I guess now we know why.”

Belle let that go, too. It got easier, each time she passed up a chance to pick a fight.

“Have you heard from her?” She knew he hadn’t. “Has she called?”

He shook his head. His jaw tightened.

“Well,” she said, trying not to grow impatient, though he clearly wasn’t getting the point. “Have you tried to call her?”

He looked up. “Why would I do that?”

She dropped onto the arm of the sofa, letting out a sigh. “You want her to come home, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. But that was answer enough.

“She’s not going to just wake up one morning and decide to come crawling back, Dad. You’re going to have to talk to her. You’re going to have to meet her halfway.”

“Halfway to her boyfriend’s house?” He shifted his shoulders, squaring off for another putt. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Belle practically had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that the friend with the spare room was not a boyfriend. And that, if they wanted to start talking adultery, they’d have to go a long way back, all the way to Sam’s first assistant, a curvy number named Nell.

But Belle had promised herself that she’d be restrained…that she’d say only positive, constructive things that might help him figure out how to rebuild these exploded bridges.

He cleared his throat. “I guess you think it’s fine, what she did. Going behind my back…”

“Not really.” Belle tried to sound neutral. “I think seeing Adam was fine. He’s family, and she thought he needed her. But doing it behind your back was a mistake.”

“It damn sure was.”

“Yes. You’d think, after everything that’s happened, no Carson would dream of keeping a secret that could blow up in our faces at any moment.” She sighed, lamenting her own stupid secrets. She was no better than the rest of them.

“And yet,” she finished heavily, “somehow we just keep doing it.”

“I don’t.” He picked up the golf ball and rolled it absently through his fingers. “People may think I’m abrasive, but at least I tell it like it is. I don’t have any secrets.”

Belle smiled. “Of course you do, Dad.”

“I do not.” He narrowed his eyes. “I know you’ve
always believed that I played around on your mother. And there may have been a time…”

He trailed off, looking less certain of himself than she’d ever seen him. The blue shadows moved across his shirt, his shoulder, even, weirdly, the side of his cheek. He pulled the other earbud out, as if he needed to think, and the noise was interfering.

“But not anymore, Belle. Not for a long time.”

“I’m glad,” she said, and she was, deeply. If that was true, perhaps her parents’ marriage still had a chance.

“But I think you have an even more profound secret than that. One that, if you don’t share it with Mom, could permanently mess up both your lives.”

“Oh, really?” He set his lips, as if he found it ridiculous that Belle would dare to try to instruct him about anything. “And what might that secret be?”

She smiled, hearing the fear behind the bravado. She reached out to touch her father’s hand. He stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

“That you love her, of course. That you miss her. That you want her to come home.”

M
ATT WAS SO
OVER
THIS
pizza-on-the-beach thing.

Thank God this was the last one. Once upon a time, it had seemed like a great idea. Okay, it still was a great idea. The word of mouth was amazing, and the new franchises were off to great starts.

But without Belle…

It wasn’t the same. He didn’t feel any of the things he was supposed to be projecting. He didn’t feel inspired, energized or even remotely charismatic.

He just felt hot, uncomfortable, bored and ridiculous.

George nudged his elbow. “Smile, boss,” he whispered. “Remember the mantra. ‘Having fun, pizzas in the sun. Next reporter shows up at one.’”

“Shut up, George,” Matt muttered. That joke had been mildly funny four hours ago, but it was more like five o’clock now. He’d talked to a dozen reporters since that first microphone had been stuck in his face at one on the dot.

But he knew his PR director was right, so he stood a little straighter, slapping the “having a blast” grin back on his face.

Just another hour. Just till six o’clock, and then he could get the hell out of here.

Off to his left, the WWHM truck blocked his view of the water, and the ever-delightful Andy in the Afternoon kept a running commentary for his listeners, ringing a merciless six-foot cowbell every time a customer found one of the hidden rings in a Cinnamon Diamond.

Obviously recognizing that people eager to win a diamond solitaire might include a lot of ladies also eager to get married, a local bridal store had decided to pair up with the promotion. They were giving away a free rhinestone tiara to the first ten ladies who found rings today. It had been a real boost to business, but…

Who would have thought gorgeous women in bikinis were so hot for tiaras?

And who would have thought that Matt would be so completely bored by looking at an endless line of them, queuing up to buy Cinnamon Diamonds and flirt a little with Diamante’s sunburned CEO?

Red would have had something philosophical to say about the lust for little sparkling crowns. He had broken up with Marie after the night of the gold chain discussion, and hadn’t taken on a new girlfriend yet.

“They’re all the same,” he’d said plaintively. “You just know they’re looking at your gold fillings, thinking how they’d make a darling pair of earrings.”

Matt checked his watch. Forty-five minutes.

If only Andy in the Afternoon wasn’t watching like Big Brother from the van, telling the whole damn world what Matt Malone was up to. He might have slipped away early.

Instead, with George pinning him down on one side, and Andy on the other, Matt had to pretend that this bleached blonde in front him, with a bathing suit made
out of what appeared to be three Post-it notes, was as adorable as she thought she was.

He knew, without touching it, that her hair would feel like straw, and her breasts would be about as sexy as giant marbles. She was laughing, presumably at something he’d said, though he knew for a fact he wasn’t that funny, and the sound grated on his ears.

One night had changed everything.

No, just three hours, that was all he and Belle had had, really….

Three hours of a real woman, made of soft, simple parts, warm curves and silky curls. Three hours, and he was ruined for everything else.

Brilliant, Malone. You’ve really made a mess of it now.

Finally, the blonde took her pizza and reluctantly moved to the next line to receive her free Cinnamon Diamonds.

“If I win a ring, I want you to put it on my finger,” she called back to Matt merrily. “Okay?”

“You bet,” he answered, laughing. Playing the game he used to love to play.

And then he saw her.

Belle Carson stood in his pizza line, watching him flirt with the blonde. Three people back, behind two more bathing beauties and a little girl with fat silver braces and a fiendish scowl.

His heart just plain stopped. He had a pizza box in his hand, and he held it out there, frozen like a mannequin.

What was she doing here?

She wore something blue, a material so light it fluttered around her knees. Her shoulders were bare, but
she’d brought a sweater, as if she had learned her lesson the last time. Her hair was loose, spinning in the wind.

George saw her, too.

“Don’t,” he said under his breath. “Don’t give the radio guy anything to work with. He might recognize her as a former employee. And you know the Kirkland story could rise from the dead any minute.”

Matt flicked a glance at George. “I’m not a fool,” he said.

He had plenty to say to Belle Carson, but he didn’t intend to let it all end up on the six o’clock news.

With effort, he pulled himself together and sold pizza to the three people in front of her with enough charm to please even the most demanding PR taskmaster. One of them found a ring in a cinnamon roll, though thank God it wasn’t the bleached blond giggler.

A squeal of joy, followed by a scattering of applause, and the booming voice of Andy in the Afternoon announcing the victory to his listeners.

Finally, Belle stood across the table from Matt.

She looked very serious. And very beautiful.

“I’d like a piece of cheese pizza, please,” she said stiffly. She watched while he put it in a triangular cardboard box. When he passed it over, she took it in both hands, as if afraid she might drop it.

“Thank you,” she said. “And…Matt…”

He smiled, the exact same smile he’d given the three people in front of her. In his big, booming radio voice, Andy had begun to describe the little blond cutie who had just stepped up for her chance at the diamond ring.

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath. “I’d like to talk to you. I know you don’t want to, but…I won’t need long. Just a few minutes. When you’re finished here, of course.”

“Of course,” he said politely. He reached down, grabbed a box of Cinnamon Diamonds that had been sitting at his feet, and handed it to her.

“That would be fine. We’re done here at six.”

B
ELLE FOUND A BENCH
just down the beach from the action, near a broken finger of rocks that jutted out into the Pacific. She took her pizza, and her little box of Cinnamon Diamonds, and set them beside her. She was far too edgy to eat, but maybe she could feed the seagulls.

Oh, no, no.
Customer Rejects Diamante Offering…Feeds It to the Birds? What terrible PR that would be!

In spite of her nerves, she had to smile. Maybe she was destined to stay in public relations, after all. She had already begun to think that way.

If she hadn’t already ruined her chances. She wondered what Matt had told people about her departure. If he put the word out that she was poison, she wouldn’t be able to get a PR job anywhere in California.

The breeze kicked up. At only the end of July, San Francisco had already lost that summer feeling. She put on her sweater and folded her hands in her lap. She ran through her speech once again, trying to find a way to make it better.

But it was what it was. She could only hope that the truth had some little ping that sounded different, like the
ring of a fork against true lead crystal. Otherwise, she was sunk. She had only her word for any of it.

If someone had brought her a self-serving story like this, back when she was a reporter, she would never have believed it. Not coming from such a biased source. Not without corroboration. Not without proof.

He didn’t come at six. She tried not to worry. She could see them, down the beach, still handing out pizzas to people who had decided to take some home for dinner.

That was desirable, in PR terms. She knew by now that a successful event never ended on time. So she waited, watching the angles of the sunlight grow more extreme. The blue of the water deepened, and patches of green and black formed out where it got deep.

At six-twenty, she saw him walking toward her. Nervous, squirming things came alive in her belly, and she squeezed her muscles tightly, trying to force them into submission.

He’d put on a Windbreaker, and its collar was turned up against his neck. His hair feathered against the fabric, and she clenched her hands, remembering the way the thick, silky strands had felt between her fingers.

She tried not to think what would happen if he didn’t believe her. If she had to leave today and never see him, never touch him again.

She knew the odds were against her. But it didn’t matter whether he forgave her or not. She’d come because, like her father, she had a secret left to tell.

She had come to tell Matt she loved him.

What happened after that was up to him.

“Hi,” he said when he drew near enough to be heard over the wind.

“Hi.” She stood awkwardly. “Thanks for coming. I thought…I thought we should talk.”

“Yes,” he said calmly. He glanced down at the unopened boxes. “You didn’t eat your Diamonds.”

“No,” she said. “I—” She swallowed. “I was too nervous to eat. I have so much to say, and I’m not sure I can explain it in a way you can understand.”

He put a foot up on the bench and leaned one elbow on his knee. The wind was behind him, blowing his shining, dark hair over his forehead. “Try me.”

“All right.” She sat down again. She picked up the box of Cinnamon Diamonds and set it in her lap, just to give her fingers something to fidget with.

“I recognized you the minute I saw you,” she said. “I mean, I knew you were…the man I’d met at the Halloween party. But you didn’t seem to recognize me, and I hoped that meant you’d never find out.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Sometimes I thought about coming clean, but I felt like such a fool. I’d looked so different that night, and you’d been drinking a lot. I guess I was afraid you might be disappointed. Or disgusted. I was only nineteen, but I was clearly ready to get into bed with the first handsome stranger I met.”

“Not the first,” he said, and she saw a glint of something in his eyes. “I remember your mentioning a couple of other guys who’d been making passes that night. Put you in a rather foul humor, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes, that’s true. As I recall, it was a fairly impressive collection of pickup lines.”

He smiled. “Well, it was a fairly impressive costume.”

“That’s the problem. It was a lot more impressive than the real Belle Carson.”

He tilted his head. “Depends on what you’re measuring, I’d think.”

She felt some of the wriggling anxiety subside. That was a very nice thing to say. Perhaps he wasn’t as upset as he had been that night. Of course, he was a good-natured person and that outburst had been an aberration. And he probably didn’t, in the end, care enough to go around nursing a grudge.

“Anyhow, I wasn’t offended by your falling asleep that night. The idea that I’d taken the job for some kind of revenge…it’s just impossible. Back then, I was disappointed, of course. But I was also a little relieved. I sort of sensed I was in over my head.”

She bit her lower lip. “It was only later that I understood how much I’d lost. It was only later that I realized…”

He shifted his elbow on his knee. “Realized what?”

“That I’d fallen in love with you.” She looked at him, refusing to flinch. “I know it sounds insane. And maybe it wasn’t really love. But it was…it was something that haunted me from that moment on. It was something I could never feel for any other man.”

A couple walked by, and Matt turned his head to the side, to see whether it was someone they knew. His profile was silhouetted against the blue-gold of the early evening sky, and she drank it in, memorizing it. In case she never saw it again.

When they were alone once more, he turned back.

“Is that all?”

“No. I want to tell you about the job. I didn’t accept it with any hidden motives, Matt. I was mourning the loss of my newspaper dream, I won’t deny that. I needed a job, and I wasn’t happy to settle for what I thought was second best. But I hadn’t been at Diamante a week before I saw…that I could learn to love it.”

The setting sun had begun to finger-paint the sky behind him, and it was now so brilliant that Matt’s features were hardly visible. He had said very little. She wished she could see his face better, so that she could judge whether there was any point in going on.

Was he just being polite, letting her have closure? Or was he completely coldhearted, allowing her to hang herself with all these unsubstantiated, flimsy protestations of innocence?

Did he even entertain the possibility that she was telling the truth?

And now she’d reached the hardest part. The part where, in order to tell the truth, she had to admit how foolish and selfish, and downright unethical, she’d been.

She took a deep breath of salty air.

“But the part about Todd Kirkland. You were right about that. When David brought me the information and asked me to look into it, I was tempted. I could see how it might be a coup, a chance to impress someone in the newspaper business. I told him I’d poke around. And I did, for one afternoon. And then…”

Matt waited.

“And then I just couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t want
to be part of covering anything up, and if he was guilty, I’m glad he’s gone. But I didn’t want to be the one to bring him down. I didn’t want to betray your trust.”

Matt wasn’t looking at her anymore. He plucked at the soft fabric of his jeans, moving it up to be more comfortable.

“It was all true,” he said. “Todd had a lot of personal problems. He lost his only child years ago, and it nearly destroyed him. He pulled himself together, but I guess his wife just never could bounce back. He started buying things, trying to bring her out of her depression. Things he couldn’t afford. When he got in over his head, he took money from the fund. He’d turn down employee requests for money, but in the books he’d list the request as granted. It wasn’t very sophisticated, and it was full of holes. He was bound to get caught, but he was desperate.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. And she was. A year ago, she might have been more cynical. She’d seen it a dozen times in her journalism career. When a politician got caught taking kickbacks or bribes or slipping his hand into the public kitty, he always had a sob story to tell.