Just Desserts (27 page)

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the answer.

Hayley's cell phone vibrated at 4:32 Sunday morning and it wasn't good news.

“Trouble,” Michie said. “The water heater blew.”

“Blew as in exploded or blew as in broken.”

“Broken,” Michie said. “We have a major flood. The emergency plumber is here. He wants to talk to you.”

Five minutes and two thousand dollars later Michie got back on the phone.

“Any more good news?” Hayley asked.

“A reporter tracked Ma down in Florida looking for dirt on you.”

“Oh great. I can just imagine what Connie had to say.”

“Actually she told him to fuck off.”

Hayley's jaw dropped. “Is that a direct quote?”

“No,” Michie admitted. “Ma told him to get lost but it's the same thing, isn't it?”

They talked a few minutes longer. Michie wanted all the details on Hayley's extended family and Hayley had to promise to deliver the goods the second she got home.

“So when will that be?” Michie asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” she promised. “I guess we'll have to use Tommy's limo again to get us all back down to Lakeside.”

“That poor driver must still be talking about loading three cat carriers, a parrot cage, and an eighty-pound dog into a hundred-thousand-dollar stretch.”

“We might have to zap Fee with a tranquilizer dart to get her back to New Jersey. You wouldn't believe how fast she took to the good life.”

“So how about you? Will you be opening a chain of Goldy's bakeries in the Hamptons?”

“Not a chance,” Hayley said. “It's a whole other world out here, Michie. I might as well have Jersey Girl stamped on my forehead.”

“If they're being snotty to you, I'll—”

“No, no! I didn't mean to give you the wrong idea. Everyone's been fine to me.” Almost everyone, if you ignored Willow and CeCe and the chilly teenaged acceptance from Winston and Zach.

“Are you and the lawyer getting along?”

“We're getting along.”

“That's all you're going to give me?”

“That's all I've got.”

“What's his place like? Typical bachelor? Is poor Fee sleeping on some ratty beer-stained couch?”

“‘Poor Fee' has her own guest suite,” Hayley said. “Trust me, Michie, nothing is the way I thought it would be. It's like Tommy is a money machine and everyone who comes in contact with him catches the overflow.”

“Lucky girl,” Michie said. “Catch a few fifty-dollar bills for me while you're at it.”

Hayley had the feeling she would be hearing a lot of comments like that once she got home.

“Hey,” Michie said. “I was only kidding. But you are his daughter, right? He owes you something.”

“He doesn't owe me anything,” she snapped. “Up until a week ago we didn't even know the other existed. If you're looking for some kind of Cinderella ending, you're going to be very disappointed.”

“I
am
disappointed. I was hoping at least you'd have a fling with the lawyer.”

I wish it was just a fling, Michie.
A fling would be a whole lot easier than this.

Flings were all about great sex without expectations. You didn't expect your fling to love your child the way you did or to be willing to put himself on the line for her.

That was the kind of commitment you expected from the man you loved, the man you wanted to build a future with.

The kind of man who didn't exist anywhere but in a single mother's fantasies.

 

“You don't have to do this,” Finn said to Hayley's aunt as he stacked the breakfast plates in the dishwasher. “You've been a great guest.”

“I want to do it,” Fee said as she popped the extra pancakes into a storage container. “There is nothing sadder than a bachelor's empty freezer.”

“No wonder Hayley thinks you hung the moon. You really did.”

“I'll need a few things from the market.”

“Give me a list,” he said, “and I'll get right on it.”

An hour later he was pushing a cart through the local grocery, plucking unfamiliar items like crushed tomatoes, anchovy paste, and extra-wide egg noodles from the shelves. He was trying to figure out how to tell a male eggplant from a female and why anyone would care, when his cell phone went off.

“Sorry to call on a Sunday morning but I'm at JFK waiting to board a plane to Antwerp and this will be my last chance for ten days.” Charles Militano was one of the investigators they routinely used to run background checks on prospective employees at Stiles Enterprises.

“No problem, Charlie. What can I do for you?” The knot that had appeared last night in Finn's gut turned to solid ice.

“A call came in a few hours ago from one of my informants in Miami. Damn voice mail. I didn't get it until just now. Anyway, that asshole Goldstein has been shooting his mouth off, telling everyone who'll listen that he's about to come into big bucks. He said he was headed up your way to start collecting—he called it his ‘inheritance.'”

“Any idea when he's coming up here?”

“Yesterday. Tomorrow. From what I heard, he could be there right now. It may or may not have anything to do with your client, but after seeing him on the news the last few days, I figured can't hurt to tell you what's going down, right?”

What the hell?

He flipped his cell phone shut and was standing in line at the checkout trying to figure out what to do with the disturbing information when he glanced toward the banking window near Customer Service, then looked again. Was that Zach standing there, counting a fistful of bills?

He watched, astonished, as Zach pushed his way through the exit then climbed behind the wheel of a Highlander Hybrid and drove away.

It wasn't any of his business if the kid drove to Montauk to do his Sunday banking but he filed it away in the
curiouser and curiouser
category just the same.

Fee was happily chopping onions when he dropped off the groceries, checked up on Rhoda, then headed to Tommy's house where he found Hayley pacing the driveway while she fielded cell phone calls from home.

She smiled when she saw him but he saw the tension in her eyes. She covered the mouthpiece. “First the water heater, now the furnace. I go away for a day or two and everything falls apart.”

“I'll be inside,” he said, touching her hand. “We need to talk when you're done.”

“The last time you said that I found out Tommy was my father.”

“Nothing like that,” he said. He wished he could be more comforting but he had the feeling everything to do with her ex-husband carried risk with it.

Tommy's place seemed unnaturally quiet. Jane, John, and CeCe were watching one of the Sunday morning news shows in the media room. Zach, Winston, and Lizzie hadn't come down for breakfast yet according to Anton, who had happily taken charge of kitchen duties on the cook's day off.

“Where are Tommy and Willow?”

“Jilly's daughter had the baby. They drove in to Ronkonkoma to see her.”

Willow had been holding herself apart from the newest additions to Tommy's extended family and in a way Finn didn't blame her. Willow was young, pregnant, and insecure. Having to share her much-married fiancé with another old lover, a new daughter, and a granddaughter would be enough to shake the confidence of even a more secure woman.

“Make yourself useful,” Anton said. “Slice and toast the bagels before CeCe slices and toasts my ass.”

“I'm starting to feel like a line cook at Denny's.”

“You're not good enough to be a line cook at Denny's.”

They bantered back and forth, but Finn's mind was elsewhere and it showed.

“Jesus,” Anton said with a shake of his head. “What did that bagel ever do to you?”

Finn looked down at the mangled baked good on the cutting board. “I'll admit it's not my best work.”

“Put the knife down,” Anton ordered. “Maybe you'd better stick to plating.” He pulled a platter of smoked salmon from the fridge and placed it on the counter. “You and Hayley have a fight?”

He shook his head. “Nothing like that.”

“Your houseguests giving you agita?”

“Fee's filling my freezer with home-cooked meals and Rhoda has fallen in love with me.”

“So what's the problem?”

“There isn't one. At least not yet.” He gave Anton the condensed version of his conversation with Charles. “It might not amount to anything. The guy's a player. He probably has a hundred scams going and this is just one of them.”

“Maybe,” Anton said, “but he doesn't have a hundred ex-wives with a rock star father.”

“I thought of that.”

“Did you tell Hayley?”

“I'm going to as soon as she comes in.”

“Can't hurt,” Anton said. “The good news is this place is like a fortress. Nobody's getting in.”

The bad news was Lizzie had gotten out.

 

“Lizzie's not in her room,” Hayley said to Jane as they carried two enormous salad bowls out to the crowd waiting on the deck. “Have you seen her today?”

“Early this morning,” Jane said. “She came down in her bathrobe for some toast and juice.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“No. I'm not certain she even knew I was in the room.”

“She has seemed distracted the last few days,” Hayley said.

“As are we all.” Jane laughed softly as Hayley slid open the French doors leading out onto the deck. “This house is very lovely and very distracting.”

“I think she might still be running a fever.”

John rose when he saw Jane and Hayley. He was at Jane's side in an instant. “Sit down and enjoy this beautiful afternoon,” he said, taking the salad bowl from her. “I'll help Hayley.”

He followed her back into the kitchen.

“Anton and Finn pretty much have everything under control out there,” Hayley said. “All that's left is the pitcher of lemonade and the ciabatta.”

“I want to thank you,” he said.

“Thank me? I haven't done anything.”

“The kindness you showed your mother in difficult circumstances has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.”

“One of the advantages of getting older,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “Your perspective shifts.”

“This is not a small thing,” John said. “Another woman might have held Jane to greater accountability.”

“I might not have been so mellow if—” She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

“I know,” John said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Her illness casts a giant shadow.”

“I hope Lizzie comes around soon,” Hayley said as she handed the platter of warm bread to John.

“I'm sorry Lizzie chose not to be with us today. It's our last full day together here and when I saw her leave—”

Hayley felt like she had been jolted with a cattle prod. “You saw her leave?”

“About thirty minutes ago,” he said. “She left with your brothers.”

 

“They're kids,” Tommy said, trying to put a lighthearted spin on the situation. “The boys are showing off.”

“She's fourteen,” Hayley snapped. “She has no business riding around with two strangers.”

“They're not strangers,” Jane offered. “They're her uncles.”

“John saw them leave almost two hours ago. How long can you drive up and down Montauk Highway?”

“I seem to remember you and Michael spending a lot of time riding around in his Trans Am,” her aunt Fee observed. “It might be a family trait.”

“That isn't helpful,” Jane said to her sister.

“I'm trying to remind my niece that minor rebellions are normal for teenage girls.”

“You should call the police,” Hayley said to Tommy.

“You're jumping to conclusions,” Tommy said. “Fee is right. The boys took off last week. Finn helped me bring them back from Great Neck. They probably did it again and Lizzie went along for the ride.”

“This doesn't make me feel better either,” Hayley said. “First they teach her how to play poker. Now—”

“They're good kids.” Anton placed a fresh pot of coffee on the outdoor table. “You don't have to worry, Hayley.”

“She's my daughter. She's fourteen and she's out there somewhere with two teenage boys we don't really know. Yes, I do have to worry.”

She pushed back her chair and stormed back to the kitchen. What was wrong with all of them? Tommy and Jane were Lizzie's grandparents. Fee was her great-aunt. They should be almost as worried as she was about Lizzie. They weren't stupid people. Why couldn't they see that this was serious?