You Had Me at Good-bye Page 4
Sheri looks past me and sends Jack one of those smiles that beautiful girls can’t help but send to the best-looking man in the room. I’ve seen similar smiles from her undo more than one male since we were kids. “Hi, Jack. Looks like it’s you and me tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
His Adam’s apple goes up and down, and I’m pretty sure I see sweat beading on his forehead. I swear, I never thought I’d see the day when Jack Quinn would lose his composure. He smiles, never taking his eyes off the blond bombshell as we descend. I find myself hoping he’ll trip over his feet and fall flat on his face (only not hard enough to do any damage to his handsome features). Instead, he recovers his composure in record time.
“I confess, I’m the lucky chap.” He offers her his arm. I want to huff, truly. Does he realize he’s just insulted me?
Toad.
Sheri sashays close to him and tucks her hand inside his arm. My brother, Kale, pokes his head out of the dining room. “Are you four coming? Mother says we’re going to start without you.”
I watch the world’s best-looking couple walk toward the dining room.
“Shall we, my love?” Floyd asks. Only it sounds like, “Shall we, by lub?” I look into his watery eyes and wish like crazy this was nothing more than a terrible dream.
3
Valerie walked into her parents’ Fifth Avenue condo at precisely five minutes before six. Her mom greeted her with a warm hug and an equally warm kiss to her cheek. “Sweetie,” she said, “you look beautiful. I just love the way those extra pounds have softened your face.”
Pleased, Valerie returned her mom’s affection. “You noticed! I’m so glad you like the results.”
“Is that my baby girl?”
Valerie whipped around at the rich baritone of her daddy’s voice. He held out his arms and smiled. “Come here and give your old dad a hug.”
A contented sigh escaped Valerie’s lips as she became enveloped in the strong, wonderful arms of her favorite man on earth.
The sound of barking interrupted her homecoming, and she turned as her mom laughed. “Looks like Mercedes has missed you, too.”
Valerie stooped and gathered the faithful old beagle in her arms. She smiled. It was good to be home.
—An excerpt from Fifth Avenue Princess
by Dancy Ames
Nightmare to end all nightmares. Did I really think listening to Floyd chew all evening was the worst thing that could ever happen to me? Listening to him blow his nose and chew, respectively, is infinitely worse. For an hour and a half, I fight not to squirm against the excruciating need to escape. Even with my charm-school training, nothing could have kept me glued to my seat except the impending announcement from my parents.
Jack leans over and says in a low voice, way too close to my ear, “It’s not polite to be so obvious.” Why my mother seated me between Floyd and Jack, I’ll never know. It’s almost like she did it on purpose, just to watch me squirm.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Really? Because anyone with a properly working set of eyes can see you’d likely sacrifice your last quid for the opportunity to bolt.”
“Like you wouldn’t?” Oh, brother. I said that, didn’t I? I give a sigh and turn to him, staring him firmly in the eye. He chuckles, which of course ticks me off. “And FYI, we don’t use ‘quid’ in the good ol’ US of A. How long have you been out of the mother country now?”
He chuckles. “Quite right, of course.”
I sniff, a complete highbrow imitation of my mother, intended to dismiss the annoying person to my left. “Shouldn’t you be paying attention to your own date?”
The thing about Jack is, he isn’t easily put off. “I would, but I’m afraid she’s paying attention to someone else. Not that I blame her. Rumor has it I’m a frightful bore.” He grins. “Besides, you’re quite amusing to watch. Heart on the sleeve and all that.”
I wish he didn’t have that accent. I find myself fascinated and often—like now—watch his mouth as he talks. But I cannot, will not, let my brother’s best friend know how hot he is. As if he didn’t already know. “Fine, you caught me.”
Thankfully, the tinkling sound of knife against crystal spares me the necessity of expounding on the statement. All eyes focus on my dad, who has, disturbingly, taken Mother’s place at the head of the table for tonight’s festivities.
“We’ve asked you all here tonight because we have an announcement to make.”
Aunt Tilly gives an obnoxious old-lady snort. “Funny, I thought we were here to celebrate my birthday. It’s not every day a lady turns fifty.”
“Just once every August for the last three decades,” I whisper, eliciting a snicker from Jack.
“What’s the announcement, Dad?” Kale asks.
Mother reaches up and takes my dad’s hand. “Stuart and I,” she says—I hold my breath; here it comes—“have been keeping something from all of you.”
No kidding.
“We—uh . . . well, we’ve been back together for the last few months.” Dad looks down at my mother in a sickeningly lovesick way. I mean, if they’re in love, that’s great. But do I really have to look at it? Shock fills the air, but only Aunt Tilly has the guts to speak up.
“Oh, Caroline,” the old dowager says, “why do you have to be such an idiot?”
“Aunt Tilly, please,” Mother says, but who can blame the old woman? As much as I love my dad, he’s sort of your love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Hasn’t Mother ever heard of “Fool me once, shame on you,” etc.?
“I think it’s wonderful!” Sheri breathes, her eyes all aglow. “I’m so happy for you both.”
She would be. As I said, she’s the daughter my mother never had.
I catch my brother’s eye and see that he’s having about the same reaction as I am. We exchange a “can you believe this?” look.
You see, it’s not that we don’t love our dad and wish our parents could be happily married forever. It’s just that we don’t want to see our mother hurt again. Our family is not your typical nuclear family with dad, mother, and two-point-five kids. We’re our own brand of dysfunction, with years of Dad’s indiscretions and Mother’s forgiveness, accompanied by expensive jewelry and a string of “second” honeymoons. Tropical beaches where they could reevaluate their relationship and start over—wiser and more committed than ever to “making it work.” And it usually did work, for about two days after their return. Once, I think a week went by before all you-know-what broke loose.
Mother finally decided enough was enough, and my parents went their separate ways. But it’s okay. Kale and I are all grown up now. We’re both strong and working in fields we love—I’m in publishing and Kale is an ER doctor at New York Presbyterian Hospital. We’re way past the illusion of family dinners (and this kind doesn’t count). Way past the Waltons fantasy. We’re simply not going to stand by and watch our dad take advantage of our mother, just because she’s about to come into a few million dollars.
“Uh, Mother,” I say, mindful of the fact that there are non-family members at this little dinner party. “Are you sure you want to do this? The whole ‘let’s try again’ route hasn’t worked out well in the past.”
“Darling,” Dad says with a rueful twist to his lips. He flattens his palm against his chest. “I’m hurt.”
“Sorry, Dad. Forgive me if I’m dubious.” I stare him down, and I’m slightly disconcerted by his smile, which borders disturbingly on being genuine. I straighten my shoulders to bolster my resolve.
Kale gives him a stern look and says what I don’t have the nerve to say. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a little fourteen-million-dollar price tag on the old digs, would it?”
“Kale Ames!” Mother’s eyes are flashing, and the look she gives him slides around to include me in her admonishment. “Do you children take me for some kind of fool?”
Do not answer. Do not answer!
“I know your father better than anyone. Don’t you think I’d
recognize any attempt on his part to manipulate me out of money?”
“Okay, you two,” I say, tired of the whole charade. “What is it you’d like to tell us?” I would give just about anything to be sitting at home eating a gallon of Chunky Monkey ice cream. “If Mother chooses to trust you again, who are Kale and I to stand in your way? But just for the record, I can’t help but worry that history might repeat itself.”
“Your concern is duly noted,” Mother says, tight-lipped.
I think I may have overstepped a little. But is it truly none of my business? Then why the elaborate announcement?
Dad swishes his glass of wine and looks from me to Kale. “I understand why you feel the way you do. But regardless of our history, or perhaps because of our history, I’m more devoted than ever to your mother.” He leans over in a gentlemanly fashion and presses his lips to her hand.
Kale gives a snort that, from her pleased look, makes Aunt Tilly proud. “I’m sure all that cash you two will get from the condo won’t hurt your commitment. For a little while, anyway.”
“All right, young man.” Mother stands, drops Dad’s hand, and leans over the table. Her angry gaze flashes, taking in every one of us except, of course, Sheri, Jack, and Floyd (who incidentally is making short work of his scallops and making me a little sick to my stomach in the process). “I’m a grown woman. I’m tired of how little faith you have in my ability to see through this man I’ve been married to for thirty-five years.”
“Muffin,” my dad says, his face red. “That’s a little insulting.”
She smiles affectionately and pats his cheek. “Sorry, darling. But the children have valid concerns based on our history. However”—she pierces us once more with her gaze—“we have always loved each other. Your father just had some . . . issues . . . that only time and maturity could fix. He’s proved himself to me, and it’s my choice to believe in him.”
“Mother—” I begin, only to be cut off by an upraised hand with long, French-manicured nails. I shut my mouth and listen.
“Furthermore—and this was your father’s suggestion, not mine—we are not selling the condo.” She smiles and holds out her hand to my dad. Slowly and with dramatic flair, he removes a document from his coat pocket and slips it to her. She walks over and stands between Kale and his fiancée, Brynn, then slides the document onto the tablecloth. “Our wedding gift to you two.” The deed to my childhood home, handed over to my brother and a girl who has only been around for a couple of years?
I’m as flabbergasted as the rest of them. “You’re giving Kale the condo?” I can’t believe I blurted that out. Can anyone say, “smacks of injustice”? I mean, if I had known the condo was up for grabs to the first kid to walk down the aisle, I’d have smiled at Floyd a little more often.
I do my best to sit through the rest of the meal, but I forgo coffee and dessert and head up to my room. Beemer has finally roused and looks at me, begging to be taken out. The distraction will do me good. “Okay, girl,” I say. “Let’s go.”
She slowly descends her three-step doggie stairs from the bed and sighs when she reaches the door, which I haven’t opened yet. She follows me down the stairs and past the dining room on the way to the front door. “Dad, I’m taking Beemer out, so she shouldn’t need to go out again tonight.”
“Thank you, princess. That’s sweet of you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Thank you for the lovely dinner,” I hear Jack say as I head to the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going now.”
I give an inward groan. There’s no way to avoid walking out with him. And normally that wouldn’t be a bad thing, but not tonight. I just want to walk the dog, then go home and find that Chunky Monkey ice cream. And maybe cry a little.
I’m waiting for the excruciatingly slow elevator to arrive when Jack saunters down the hall. Beemer lifts her head from where she’s resting on the floor and thumps her tail as he walks toward us.
“I hope you don’t mind sharing an elevator ride with me,” he says with a self-deprecating smile.
I give a nonchalant little shrug. “Why would I?”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He bends over and gives Beemer a scratch behind the ear. She actually sighs.
The elevator finally arrives with a ding, and we step aside as Floyd’s mother and father exit. Floyd is a replica of his dad. In every way. The man blows his nose and stuffs the handkerchief back in his breast pocket as he steps out. I may be ill.
The Bartells own a condo on the same floor as my mother’s. I’m not sure my mother honestly enjoys their company, but she has most definitely enjoyed the social interaction and introductions to the “who’s who” of New York climbers that the Bartells provide.
“Dancy?” Mrs. Bartell says with that tone that means, “Why aren’t you with my son?”
“Good evening,” I say, including them both in my nod. “You remember Jack Quinn, don’t you?”
Mrs. Bartell looks down her old-money nose. “Of course. Hello, Mr. Quinn.”
Jack takes her manicured hand. He smiles warmly into her pinched face, and the ice slowly begins to melt. “So lovely to see you again, Mrs. Bartell.” He looks past her to Mr. Bartell. “And you, sir. You’re looking well.”
Floyd’s father preens before the compliment. “Well, I have been walking the course instead of riding in the golf cart lately.”
“Very good, old chap.” Jack gently releases Mrs. Bartell’s hand and turns to me. “Shall we go walk the dog?”
Dumbfounded at how he had those two fuddy-duddies eating out of his hand, all I can do is nod and allow myself to be escorted into the elevator. His hand at the small of my back feels warm and cozy. Almost like we fit. But, of course, we don’t.
We say our good-nights to the blue-blood couple as the doors close. Silence shrouds the inside of the elevator. Finally the bell dings us past the ninth floor.
“This lift must be the slowest one in New York City.”
I give him a nod. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”
He turns to me. “Listen. This is going to be an incredibly awkward ride if we don’t speak.”
“Fine. Speak.”
Beemer gives us a bark. The one command she still responds to. I catch Jack’s gaze and we share a laugh.
He leans in toward me. “Will Kale and Brynn inherit the dog, too, or will your mother take her?”
Just when we were starting to get along, he had to bring that up.
I feel my shoulders tense. It’s impossible to keep that tension out of my voice. “I really don’t know.”
Jack peers closer, as though he is just getting the picture. “I’m so sorry you were blindsided by the news.”
“Yes, well. That’s my parents for you.”
“Odd, isn’t it? Their giving the apartment to Kale instead of you?”
I’m dreadfully close to tears, so I’d just as soon he stop speaking. “Well, I suppose it’s because Kale’s getting married and I most likely never will.”
“Never?” His brows push together. “How can you make that prediction at so young an age?”
A short laugh bursts from me. “I’m nearly thirty-one years old, Jack. I’ve never even had a third date, unless you count all the dinners Mother forces me to attend with Floyd. The prospects are pretty slim.”
I suppose my extreme vulnerability tonight is to blame for that little admission. But I can’t help myself.
“Don’t give up on the institution quite yet,” he says. “Thirty is the new twenty.”
“Tell that to my biological clock. It’s been ticking so long, it’s about to wind down.” Oh. My. Goodness. Did I really just say that?
My cheeks go hot as he smirks.
I give him a hard look. “Don’t you dare repeat that.”
His palm flattens against his chest. “My word of honor.”
Just as the elevator dings the second floor, he turns to me. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the condo. You know Kale doesn’t want it.”
Finally, the elevator reaches the first floor.
In the lobby, Norman opens the door for us and I lead Beemer, who may or may not be grateful, outside to do her business.
“Well,” I say awkwardly, because I don’t want him to think I expect an escort.
“If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to walk with you.”
“You would?”
His grin reminds me of the Jack I met fourteen years ago. “Well, I couldn’t let my best friend’s little sister walk the dark streets of New York all alone, could I?”
Figures.
I lift my chin. “I’m not alone. I have Beemer for protection.”
Beemer is sniffing around trying to find just the right spot to go. The very last thing on her mind is keeping me safe.
“Really, Jack,” I say with a wave. “I’m standing in front of my mother’s place, and Norman is watching from the door. Beemer and I will be back inside before you know it. She doesn’t need to go far.”
“Well, then,” Jack says, “it appears as though my chivalry was misguided.”
“I appreciate the thought, though.”
I wish I could decipher the look he gives me. It might be relief. On the other hand, it might be disappointment. One would think that after all these years I’d be able to gauge his expressions. But Jack is an enigma.
I decide to end this and let him off the hook completely. “Good night, Jack. I’m sorry you were brought into our family dysfunction tonight.”
He reaches out and tweaks my nose. “I’m used to it, aren’t I?” A quick smile touches his lips and he walks away, leaving me without a single thought in my head that isn’t filled with him.
The girls and I rehash over one of Laini’s divine chocolate mint tortes. So much better than Chunky Monkey, any day of the week.
“Wow, I can’t believe your parents gave the condo to Kale,” Laini says, serving up the torte and setting a gallon of chocolate milk in the middle of the table so we can all have equal access.