Sex and Key Lime Pie (19 page)

“For once, I’m not the last to arrive,” Elisabeth joked as Cheyanne slid into the booth.

“That’s because your husband wasn’t home when you left,” she shot back.

“It is hard to leave when he’s there,” Elisabeth conceded. “He so helpless on his own.”

Isabelle added, “It’s just that they look so pathetic, you almost feel guilty leaving them.”

“Who do you two think you’re kidding? It’s the sex. It’s built into their Portuguese genetic makeup. They’re so good at it, and they make damn sure you know you could have had them instead of a night with your friends.” She’d been tempted to ditch her own friends when Luc discovered she’d hired one of his nieces to child-sit for the evening.

“Observation or experience, Dizzy?” Elisabeth asked.

“Let’s just say, you’re lucky I showed up tonight.”

Isabelle, looking darn good for a woman who gave birth just two weeks ago, tossed a peanut at her. “You couldn’t skip out on us after you chose this dive.”

“Momentary lapse of judgment.”

“A lapse you’re going to truly regret,” Elisabeth warned.

Cheyanne followed her friend’s pointed stare. Of all the gin joints in all the world, they had to wander into this one, she thought with wry humor. She couldn’t escape the woman. Only tonight it appeared as if Sue Ann would ignore them since Luc wasn’t around. Unfortunately, James did have some manners and felt the need to say hello.

“Hey, Cheyanne, I heard the good news. Why didn’t you mention your son before?”

“He never came up in the conversation.”

“Quite the soccer player. European trained, I’m told. Destined to be the league’s MVP this summer.” He glanced at his date. “Your nephew Rodney could learn a thing or two.”

Cheyanne wondered if James intentionally meant to piss-off his date. After the way Sue Ann tried to humiliate him at the reunion, Cheyanne wouldn’t blame him.

Sue Ann’s eyes narrowed and her face puffed up. “I’m sure his father is very proud.”

James shot her a scathing glare. “Don’t be such a witch. You know she’s a widow.”

“Like she ever really had a husband. Or perhaps there’s some other reason he doesn’t have his father’s name,” she sniped as she walked away.

He lifted his shoulders in an embarrassed shrug as he left too.

“What a bitchy thing to say,” Isabelle said.

Or astute. Cheyanne brushed off the nastiness of the comment. The subject was not so easily ignored. As secretary of the league, Sue Ann had access to the registration records. If Sue Ann suspected the truth, or part of it, then others probably had suspicions as well. She needed to talk to Luc tonight. “Let’s get out of here and go to the beach.”

She slid from the booth. Why waste the summer night sitting inside a smoky pub when they could enjoy the cool sea breezes? She grabbed a pack of wine coolers from the refrigerated case and paid the bartender.

Isabelle drew up next to Cheyanne. “Are you okay, Dizzy? I hope Sue Ann didn’t upset you.”

“As if she could.”

They crossed the road and walked along the dock of the Happy Landing’s Marina. Gentle waves lapped the shore. Halfway down the wooden planks, Isabelle steered them toward one of the boats.

“Aren’t we a bit old to be trespassing on private property?” Cheyanne asked.

“You’ve never been on Luc’s boat?” Elisabeth asked.

“No, this is the first time I’ve seen it.”

The Starcraft speedboat was beautiful, but from Sam’s description she’d imagined a forty-foot cabin cruiser. In retrospect, she knew nothing of Luc’s life. She’d never seen his house either. She kept everything on her turf, where she made the rules to guard her heart. “It’s very nice. Won’t he be mad?”

“He gave me a key, so I don’t think he’ll care.” Isabelle opened the door to the small cabin and they entered. “Okay, so spill. What’s going on with you? And don’t tell me ‘nothing.’ Because, you’ve been out of sorts for a while. If my brother is doing anything...”

“Your brother has been great, okay? Except that he doesn’t know how to use a telephone, because he never calls before he shows up.”

“At least he shows up,” Elisabeth pointed out. “Quite a change from when you first got here.”

“Well, I’m afraid we might return to those days very soon.”

“Why?”

They sat on the beds. The compact compartments reminded her of Izzy’s childhood bunk beds where the three of them used to pretend they were princesses locked in a tower. Funny, she still felt locked away, but this prison was of her own making. “Why is it you never questioned the reason Sam and I carry my maiden name?”

Elisabeth shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I thought it was because you were never actually married to Sam’s father.”

“I wasn’t married to his father. But I was married.”

“Now you’ve lost me.”

Cheyanne opened her purse and pulled out some pictures. She put one face-up on the mattress. “This was my husband, Pierre.” She placed another one next to it. “Sam.” Then she laid the last picture from the wallet. “Luc. When he was younger, of course. Which two would you say belong together?”

Isabelle exhaled deeply. “About time you admitted it.”

“You knew?” Cheyanne shook her head apologetically.

“The second I laid eyes on him. Genetically, I don’t think he got anything from your side of the family. He’s Allesandro to the core.”

Elisabeth blinked back a tear as she stared at the pictures. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“The same reason I haven’t said anything to Luc. It isn’t my secret to tell. It had to come from Cheyanne, when she was ready for us to know.”

“So you lied?”

Cheyanne accepted the anger. “I understand that you’re upset. But I never lied. I never referred to Pierre as Sam’s father. When Alicia asked if Sam was her cousin, I told her yes.”

Isabelle pulled a picture for closer inspection. “Does Sam know?”

“He knows Pierre wasn’t his father. But he doesn’t know Luc is.”

“How could you keep something like that from either of them?” Elisabeth’s voice rose with each word.

The comment surprised Cheyanne since her friend had never been a big fan of her relationship with Luc. She slid the pictures back into her purse.

Fury burned in Elisabeth’s stare. “Did you ever think that if you’d told him back then things might have been different?”

“Right. I should have jumped at the chance to trap him into marriage. Especially after he made it clear he didn’t love me, he didn’t want me, and the only reason he had sex with me was to piss off his father. And then, I got the blame for how the old bastard took his revenge.”

Isabelle touched her arm. “No one is blaming you, Cheyanne.”

“It sure sounded like it to me. I know he’s your brother, Izzy, and you love him. I love him too but after the reading of the Will, Luc treated me exactly the way Harlan treated your mother. No way in hell would I chance that he’d treat my son the same way Harlan treated him.”

“Now?” Elisabeth pushed.

“I’m here with Sam, aren’t I?”

“And you’re going to leave again at the end of the summer. Quite selfish on your part, don’t you think?”

If she were selfish, she would hang around for her own personal gratification and not worry what kind of example she set for her son. “No one is blaming me, huh Izzy?”

“Of course she’s not.” Elisabeth wrapped her arms around her waist. “She always takes your side. Even against her brother.”

“I don’t know why you’re upset with me. If I’ve done something to you, I’m sorry. But this was between me and Luc and I did what I needed to survive at the time.”

“Survival is a lot easier with a few million dollars backing you up.”

That shot cut Cheyanne deeper than any other. As if money made up for all she’d lost. “I’ll tell you what, Lizzy. You can have it. Just give up your friends, your family, and the love of your life. Then let me know how you’re doing in a decade.” She stood, hitting her head on the overhang. Pain ripped through her, but it was nothing like the ache pressing on her chest.

“Izzy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

****

Luc returned to Cheyanne’s house at ten o’clock. Being a kind and considerate uncle, he decided to relieve his niece, Lucy, of her babysitting duties and allow her to join her group of friends early. He even paid her for the full evening. Lately his sex life with Cheyanne had to be worked around a child’s schedule. Now that he’d discovered the world of possibilities this kind of arrangement opened, he planned to use Lucy’s sitting services again in the near future. No point exhausting her the first night.

“Are you sure you ran this by Cheyanne, Uncle Luc?”

“She’ll be fine with it. Sam and I are fishing buddies.”

As a conscientious young woman, she seemed skeptical. Still, few members of the family argued with his word. “If you’re sure. He’s almost asleep anyway. He’s in his mother’s room watching a soccer match.”

“Thanks.”

She stepped through the screen door. “Oh, by the way, Uncle Luc. He’s the best kid I’ve ever watched. Don’t blow this for me by teaching him any of your crazy habits.”

“Sorry, but I promised his mother I would.”

“You mean you threatened to,” she corrected.

He tried to look stern but she laughed at him.

Yes, Cheyanne had completely destroyed his bad reputation. “You used to have more respect for me.”

“I used to be scared to death of you,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for her car.

He waited until she was safely inside before seeking out Sam. The boy sat cross-legged on the bed, looking anything but sleepy. He bounced up and down on the mattress while he divided his attention between the sports match and a box of assorted items.

“What are you doing?” Luc asked.

Sam jumped to the floor with a horrified gasp. The poor kid looked guilty as sin of some unknown crime. His gaze shifted from Luc to the box and back again, before he slammed the cover on top. “Where’s Lucy?”

“She left. You’re stuck with me.”

Luc did not receive the expected grin of excitement. He had not imagined Sam’s discomfort the other day. What happened? They used to get along great. Something weighed on the kid’s mind. “What’s that on the bed?”

“My mother calls it her time capsule but it’s not a real one.”

“Why?”

“For a real time capsule you collect a lot interesting things from the time you live in and you bury it for a hundred years. Then when someone finds it, they know what your life was like.”

“Why isn’t hers real?”

“My mom’s stuff is silly. Soda caps. A T-shirt. Candy wrappers. An old piece of chewed gum! Who would want to find that in a hundred years? She even has pictures of you when your hair used to be longer.”

“Really. Let me see.”

Luc sat on the bed and removed the top. As he picked through the contents, he held back a laugh. He never realized Cheyanne had been a kleptomaniac. Half the items belonged to him at one time. Hell, he’d bet all of them had some connection to him. She had stolen his old Grateful Dead T-shirt! The sneak had even taken Polaroids of him when he was asleep. Why had she bothered to save it all these years?

He glanced at Sam, who was still hovering against the wall. “Girls save silly things, I guess.” He put the cap back on the box. “So, who’s playing?”

“Portugal and Spain,” Sam said.

“Who’s winning?”

“Who else? Portugal.”

“So? Take a seat. Let’s see how it turns out.” Sam slid down to the floor and divided his attention between the television and Luc.

“What’s bothering you, Sam?”

He lowered his head and mumbled, “Nothing.”

“Something’s wrong.”

Silence. He fidgeted with his sneaker lace, pulled at his T-shirt and generally avoided eye contact with Luc. Sam looked like he wanted to ask something, but knew he shouldn’t. He probably had a lot of questions about Luc’s relationship with Cheyanne.

“If you want to know something, go ahead and ask. Get it out of your system.”

“It’s okay.”

“I won’t tell your mother.”

Sam arched his eyebrow warily. “You promise?” “Yeah, I promise.”

He inhaled a deep breath of courage and spit out, “Are you my father?”

Luc nearly choked. Where had Sam gotten an idea like that? For once in his life, Luc thought before speaking. No need to add any pain to the poor kid’s confusion. “I would be proud to be your father but it isn’t possible. Your mother was long gone from here when you were born.”

“Okay,” Sam said slowly, seeming to accept the answer. His face scrunched up in bewilderment.

“But why is your name on my birth certificate?”

The air rushed from Luc’s lungs. “What?”

“Your real name is Lucien Allesandro, right?” “Yes.”

“That’s the name where it says father on my birth certificate.”

A numbing sensation washed over him. What was going on? He felt as if he’d stepped into some alternate reality. “How do you know that?”