One True Love (17 page)

“I’m interested. I’ll pick one up at the store.”

“Suit yourself. But they’re probably gone by now. It was last week’s issue. If you want to come inside for a minute, I’ll find it for you.”

Go inside? No way. He shook his head.

Beverly laughed. “What do you think I’m going to do? Attack you in the hallway? Strip off your clothes before you can say you have a headache? And you’re not scared of me? That’s a laugh.”

“Fine,” he said stiffly. “I’ll come inside and get the article. Then I’m leaving.”

“Of course you are.”

Raymond followed her into the town house, standing awkwardly in the front hall, turning down her offer to take a seat or have a drink.

Although, as he looked around, he had to admit that Beverly’s home felt comfortable. Her living room was filled with overstuffed white chairs and sofas and silk flowers in decorative vases. She had a grand piano in one corner and a crystal collection in another, featuring delicate glass animals.

It was a grown-up living room, sophisticated, personal, yet nice, he thought with some surprise. For some reason he’d expected black leather and leopard prints, maybe even some tacky chandelier.

Raymond stiffened as a door opened. He was almost afraid to look up, terrified and excited by the thought that Beverly might be wearing a sexy black nightgown or nothing at all. What would he do then? He couldn’t even let an answer form in his head.

“Here it is,” Beverly said, handing him the magazine.

When he finally looked at her, he realized she was still wearing her dress, the one she’d had on all day.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, arching one finely penciled eyebrow. “No Thanks for the magazine.”

She walked him to the door. “I had a nice time, Raymond,” she said softly. “If we weren’t enemies, I could almost think of you as a friend. But you don’t want any more friends, do you?”

“I’m getting married.”

“You could still change your mind.”

“I don’t want to. Elisabeth is—is—so nice,” he finished lamely. He slammed the door on Beverly’s sudden burst of laughter.

Later that night, Lisa checked on the kids. Roxy was sitting in bed, reading a teen magazine, which she quickly tossed on the floor when Lisa entered the room.

“I was just getting ready to turn off the light,” Roxy said.

Lisa smiled. With Roxy’s face cleanly washed, she looked like a girl again instead of a hooker. Lisa sat down on the bed. “It’s pretty tough growing up, isn’t it?”

Roxy pushed her hair behind her ear, somewhat self consciously. “I wish I was prettier, like you.”

“Me?” Lisa laughed as she sat down on the bed. “Good heavens, Roxy.

When I was your age, I thought I was the ugliest thing alive.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. I had no confidence. I thought my family was nuts.”

Roxy grinned. “Mine is, too.”

“Your mother doesn’t hold séances on the weekend.”

“That’s so cool, though.”

“It wasn’t to me. I was afraid people would find out, that they would think I was strange. I never brought anyone home from school. I never told anyone about my family. Sometimes, I’d even lie and say my father was a travelling salesman or in the marines, just so I wouldn’t have to admit that he was gone.”

Roxy’s expression darkened as she plucked at the bedspread with her fingers. “I miss my dad.” She looked up at Lisa. “Why did he have to die? Why did it have to happen to me? Other kids have two parents. It’s not fair.”

“It sure isn’t. My dad left when I was just a baby. I never even knew him.”

“Why did he leave?”

Lisa thought about all the explanations she’d heard, including the most recent one provided by her mother. Deep down she knew there was really only one answer. “I guess he didn’t love us enough to stay. But my father had a choice, Roxy. Your dad didn’t. It was just his time. I think he’s looking down on you from heaven right now. In fact, ever since I found you with that boy, I’ve heard your father’s voice whispering in my ear to protect his beautiful daughter from all those eager boys.”

“You’re making that up.”

“Maybe. Roxy, can we have a truce—until your mother comes back? No more sneaking out on me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. And in return, I’ll show you how to wear makeup so you don’t look like you’re wearing it.”

“What’s the point of that?” Roxy asked.

“The point is making those boys think you’re naturally beautiful, not a walking paint canvas.”

“Oh.”

Lisa kissed Roxy on the cheek in an impulsive, motherly gesture, then tucked the covers around her chin. “I’ll tell you one other thing. You have lots and lots of time to do it all, Roxy. If you’re in a rush to grow up, you might just miss some of the best things of being a kid.”

“Like what?”

“Like everything, honey. You can be whatever you want to be. The sky is the limit. And believe it or not, boys usually prefer girls who have their own interests and goals. Because those girls have more to talk about than makeup and clothes. They’re fun and interesting.”

Roxy made a face. “I don’t think I’ll ever be popular. My nose is too big, and my legs are too skinny, and I’ll never have boobs.”

Lisa laughed. “Your mother has great breasts, Roxy, so I think you’ll do just fine. Besides that, you’re funny and smart and a good person. That’s really what counts.”

Roxy snuggled under the covers with a contented smile. “Good night, Aunt Lisa.”

“Good night.” Lisa got up and walked to the door.

“Aunt Lisa?”

“What, honey?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Lisa smiled to herself. “Yeah, me too.” She turned off the light, closed the door behind her, then went into Dylan’s room.

Dylan was already fast asleep, sprawled on top of the covers of a messy bed that was littered with sweatshirts and socks. She gently pushed the laundry to one side, then moved him slightly so she could pull the blanket over his bare legs.

“Mom?” Dylan muttered sleepily, not even opening his eyes.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep,” Lisa said, not bothering to tell him who she was.

“Love you, Mom,” Dylan said as he turned on his side and fell back to sleep.

“I love you, too,” she murmured, feeling a rush of emotion. How lucky Maggie was to have these beautiful children.

“Lisa?”

She turned and saw Nick standing in the doorway. Things had been tense between them all evening, and ever since Silvia and Carmela had gone home, they’d tried to stay out of each other’s way.

She walked into the hall and closed Dylan’s door before speaking to him. “I’m tired, Nick. I don’t want to argue with you. I don’t want to sleep with you. In fact I don’t even want to talk to you.”

“Then talk to Mary Bea,” he said roughly. “She has a stomachache.”

She turned, startled by his words. “She was fine at dinner.”

“She’s not now.”

Lisa walked across the hall and into Mary Bea’s bedroom. The little girl was curled into a fetal position. Lisa sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed Mary Bea’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“My stomach hurts.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

“I don’t know. Kind of.”

Lisa put a hand on Mary Bea’s forehead. “She feels a little warm. It was probably just something she ate,” she said, trying not to worry.

She wasn’t sure she could deal with a sick child, not after what had happened to Robin. “A good night’s sleep, and she’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right. But—” Nick didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

She could fill in the rest as well as he could.

Chapter 16

Maggie finally crept out of bed just after seven o’clock in the morning. She felt uneasy. In fact, she felt downright spooked. She’d tossed and turned and sweated most of the night. Since seeing Keith with that woman, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

They’d tried to follow the cab, but they had lost it in traffic. It would have been too easy to simply catch up with them and confront them.

Maggie walked to the window and pulled the curtain back. She could see downtown San Francisco from her vantage point—the Transamerica Pyramid, the Bank of America building, the Bay Bridge in the distance.

She’d been to the city only once, just after she and Keith had first married. He’d loved the cable cars, the steep hills, the old Victorian houses.

Had he been planning his mad escape from their life even then?

She thought of all the little moments they’d spent together in the months before his death. While she’d been baking meat loaf, had he been thinking of sliding under the sheets with another woman? When he’d made love to her, had he been thinking of someone else? Of Serena?

Maggie felt like she was losing her mind. Nothing was the same anymore. The world had turned upside down, and she was still trying to find a way to get right side up.

Jeremy had tried to distract her last night by taking he rout to dinner at a lovely Chinese restaurant in Ghirardelli Square. She’d smiled and chatted, but she’d barely been able to concentrate on what he was saying. She was surprised he hadn’t dumped her right then and there.

Instead he’d seen her back to the hotel and suggested they get separate rooms. She wondered if that was because he couldn’t stomach the thought of making love to a woman whose husband had obviously strayed. After all, the logical correlation was that she hadn’t been good enough for him.

No, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t blame herself for everything.

Keith could have said something. He could have told her he was unhappy. He could have asked for a divorce instead of killing himself in a fire, instead of making his wife and his children go through a funeral.

Maggie was suddenly so angry she wanted to kill him. But how could she kill a dead man?

She sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking about the money Keith had taken out of their savings account—money she could have used for the children, for the house, for all their bills. Of course, he had taken out more life insurance-guilt money, she decided, to appease his conscience for faking his death and hurting his children and his wife.

His wife. The title seemed so strange now. She’d thought she’d known everything about her husband, but she’d known nothing, certainly not that he had a body desirous of another woman or a mind devious enough to plot his own death.

And why kill himself? Why not just leave? People did that all the time. Then she thought about Keith’s parents, their expectations, their strong family traditions. Scotts didn’t get divorced. They stayed together, no matter what. Keith had been raised to believe in the institution of marriage, and he’d always been a good son. He’d done everything exactly as he was supposed to do, except he’d died far too young. That hadn’t been in anyone’s plan, except his, apparently.

A knock came at her door, and her stomach convulsed. She knew she wouldn’t find Keith on the other side of that door; she’d find Jeremy.

She wasn’t sure what to do about him, either. How could she think of having a sexual fling when she might be married? Who was she kidding?

She wasn’t married. Even if Keith wasn’t dead, he was still out of her life. He’d made his decision. So who was she protecting? What promises was she supposed to keep?

Maggie got up and opened the door.

Jeremy stood before her, wearing beige slacks and a navy blue polo shirt. He looked clean and fresh, his hair still damp from a shower, his cheeks smoothly shaven. He smelled like heaven, and when he opened his arms to her, she could do nothing more than walk into his embrace.

“You worried all night,” he said, brushing her hair with his lips. “I knew you would.”

“I couldn’t help it.” She played with the button on his shirt. “I had a lot to think about.” She stepped back so he could enter the room, then shut the door behind him.

“I think you’re wrong,” Jeremy said abruptly.

“What do you mean?”

“Your husband can’t be alive. It doesn’t make sense. I analyzed everything you told me. There was absolutely no reason for him to take such drastic steps to carry on an affair or to disappear. Unless there’s something you’ve forgotten. You said he worked in a lab. But you never told me what caused the explosion or if there was foul play involved.”

Jeremy sat down in a chair by the window, resting his arms on his knees as he waited for her to give him an explanation.

Maggie stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to follow everything he’d said. Foul play was the only thing that stuck in her head. But that didn’t make sense either. “They said it was a chemical fire,” she said slowly. “My husband often worked with toxic and flammable substances. They told me it looked like an experiment gone awry. No one ever suggested that someone had set the fire deliberately. Although, to tell you the truth, I didn’t pay much attention.”

“That’s understandable. You were in shock.”

Among other things, Maggie thought, remembering how upset the children

had been. That’s when Roxy had become boy-crazy, Mary Bea had started crying all the time and Dylan had taken to spending his day in front of a video game.

“Didn’t anyone at the company give you any more information than that?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. I don’t know. Maybe they did. I can’t remember. Keith’s boss came up to me at the funeral and muttered something about it being a freakish accident, but I didn’t know him well enough to really question him. You see, when Keith started working at that company, he changed. He became less talkative, more stressed. At his old company, I knew everyone, but at this place, I didn’t even know the names of his coworkers. Everything was classified.”

“Why?” Jeremy asked with interest.

“Because some of their work involved national security, chemical weapons, stuff like that. Although Keith didn’t make weapons. He was a very peace-loving guy. He told me that his area of interest was in developing substances to protect our soldiers against the use of chemical weaponry.” She sighed and flopped down on the bed. “At least that’s what he said.”

“Wow. Chemical weapons. The plot thickens.”

Maggie shook her head at the enthusiasm in Jeremy’s voice. “I wish you could have known him the way I did. You would have a lot more trouble believing the man was anything but a nine-to-five guy who never did anything remotely daring.”

“Tell me more about the company. You said you didn’t know anyone?”

“No, there were never any parties, not even at Christmas, and Keith travelled a lot. I’m not really sure what he did on the road. He was so vague about it. When I tried to ask, he’d just change the subject.” And she hadn’t tried that hard, because she’d had three kids to worry about. She’d never suspected anything odd about Keith’s job or travel until now.

Jeremy stood up and began to pace around the room. “Okay, let’s go over what we have. Keith takes a job at a new company that has something to do with national defense about a year and a half before the explosion.”

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t introduce you to anyone. You’re not welcome to visit or even hear about his experiments. He travels to other cities. You never call him. He always calls you. One night he goes into the lab after everyone has left. There is a mysterious explosion. Items of clothing and his briefcase are found at the site, but no body.”

“And some teeth,” Maggie added.

“Right, the teeth. Cavities matching Keith’s dental records.”

“Yes. Don’t forget about the money. Eight thousand dollars withdrawn from our checking account the day before he died.”

Jeremy paused and looked at her. “I agree it’s strange. But, Maggie, I don’t know. Do you really believe the man faked his own death? It’s so extreme. So dramatic. So final. He could have just left you.”

“I thought of that, too, but his parents would have hated him if he’d divorced me, especially because of the …” She stopped, suddenly realizing she was about to mention her children. But why tell Jeremy about the kids? He’d probably lose interest in her and leave. Right now, feeling as crazed and anxious as she did, she couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving. She needed him.

“Because of what?” he prodded.

“They believed in marriage,” she prevaricated. “They were very religious, and they wouldn’t have approved if he’d divorced me.”

“They’d rather have him dead?”

“No, of course not,” she said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. “But maybe Keith preferred that alternative. They put a lot of pressure on him.”

“To do what?” His eyes lit up with sudden understanding. “To have kids?”

“Well, uh—yes, as a matter of fact, his parents did pressure him to have children. That whole grandparent thing. They really wanted that. “”And Keith didn’t.”

“He loved kids. But he was really devoted to his work.” She rushed on before he could ask her any more questions about kids. “Anyway, maybe Keith just wanted to escape from me and his parents and all the other pressures in his life.”

“Hell of a way to go.”

Maggie stood up and stretched her tired, tense limbs, eager to change the subject. “I tried calling Serena’s room earlier this morning. She didn’t answer.”

He met her gaze. “I know. I tried, too.”

“And I asked for Keith, but he wasn’t registered. So I guess we just have to wait. Or go home. Or give up.”

Jeremy slid his arms around her waist. “Maybe we were meant to spend more time together. It’s fate.”

“I know you think I’m a nut,” she said with a self conscious smile.

“I think you’re the most intriguing woman I’ve met in a long time.”

She wasn’t intriguing. She was a single mom with three kids and a dog, but she couldn’t tell him that.

“Maggie. I know we’ve only known each other for two days, but it feels like longer. I want you to make me a promise.”

“What kind of a promise?”

“That no matter what happens you won’t disappear as soon as we find Serena or Keith.”

Maggie hesitated. How could she promise that? They lived in different worlds. At least when she was living in reality, which wasn’t in a hotel in San Francisco.

“You just say “I promise,” Jeremy prodded, worry creeping into his eyes.

“I know I won’t ever forget you,” she said. How could she forget the man who had brought her back to life? She placed her hands on his chest and kissed him softly on the lips, taking the initiative for the first time in a very long time.

Jeremy groaned as his mouth parted beneath hers. “I want you,” he whispered. Maggie pulled back, frightened and exhilarated. “Maybe we should—we could…” She glanced over at the bed, at the rumpled sheets, the soft pillows. She could see herself lying there, losing herself in Jeremy, forgetting about everything.

A knock came at the door, startling both of them.

“Saved by the knock,” Jeremy said softly. “We could ignore it.”

“No one knows I’m here,” Maggie said, suddenly terrified. “Maybe it’s Keith. Maybe it’s Serena. Maybe they saw us.”

“Relax. I ordered room service. You know, coffee,” he added, when she didn’t reply.

Jeremy strode over to the door and let the waiter in. By the time the waiter had set up the table and pocketed his tip, the mood was broken. Maggie wasn’t sure if she felt grateful or annoyed. She took one last lingering look at the bed and knew deep down in her heart that she wasn’t quite ready to take that step, at least not yet.

She busied herself by pouring two cups of coffee. “What do you take in it?”

“Nothing. Just black for me.”

“I need a little sugar,” she said, adding some sweetener to her cup.

He clicked his cup to hers. “To us.”

“I’ve never made a toast with coffee before.”

“I have a feeling you and I are going to do a lot of things you’ve never done before,” Jeremy said, his gaze drifting over to the bed.

Maggie took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Jeremy, I’m not ready.”

“I know,” he said swiftly. “But I still want you. And I think you want me, too.”

“I’m scared,” she said honestly. “I’ve never gone to bed with a handsome, sexy stranger.”

“Maybe you should try it some time.”

Maybe I will. Maggie took a sip of coffee and wished she had the courage to say the words out loud. Lisa felt Nick’s arm slide around her shoulders as she took the thermometer out of Mary Bea’s mouth and smiled down at the bright-eyed, red-cheeked little girl who didn’t seem to have enough energy to smile back. “Let’s see how we’re doing,” she said cheerfully. “It’s still one hundred,” she muttered to Nick. “Not high enough to worry, according to the pediatrician’s office.”

“Not that that’s going to stop you.”

“Or you. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you spent the night with Mary Bea.”

“I was tired of sleeping on the couch,” he said gruffly.

“You’re a softie. Admit it.”

“Never.”

“My stomach hurts,” Mary Bea said, repeating a now familiar phrase.

Lisa sent Nick a helpless look, which he returned with one of his own. “You wouldn’t think a case of indigestion would last this long, would you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the food is stuck somewhere.”

“Thank you for your diagnosis, Dr. Maddux.”

“I want Mommy,” Mary Bea proclaimed.

Lisa frowned as she pushed Mary Bea’s damp, sweaty hair off her forehead. “I know you do, honey, and I’ll tell her you’re not feeling well just as soon as she calls.”

“Is anyone going to drive me to school?” Dylan asked from the doorway as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Hey, how come Mary Bea gets to stay home?”

“She’s sick,” Nick said.

“She’s probably faking,” Dylan replied.

“I am not,” Mary Bea said hotly.

“Dylan, get in the car,” Nick said. “And tell your other sister to hurry up.”