7 Brides for 7 Bodies (32 page)

“Yeah, man, I’m lost. I’m looking for Elizabeth Fischer’s law office.”

The guy thought for a few seconds. “Fifth floor.”

“Thanks.” Then Wes leaned in. “Listen, I’m in trouble and I’m meeting her for the first time and now I’m regretting my wardrobe choice, you know?”

The guy scanned his tee shirt and jeans. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Still, I could really use a jacket for an hour,” he said, nodding to the guy’s navy blue special. “I got a twenty,” he said holding up the bill. “Help me out?”

The guy shrugged. “Sure.” He traded the jacket for the cash.

Wes slid into the jacket—a little loose, but not bad. “You’ll have it back within the hour. Oh, by the way, when I came in the building, there was a stray kitten out front in the landscape bed. I meant to tell the receptionist, but I totally forgot. Will you call her? It sounded hungry.”

“Sure,” the guy said, reaching for the phone next to the door.

By the time he got back to the lobby, the receptionist was on her way out the revolving door on a mission to save a kitten. He snatched a handful of flowers from the vase on the desk, and punched the elevator call button.

On the elevator, though, he had time to think on what he was about to do. It was easy enough to say he was going to do the hard thing, but would he stick with it long-term? Through thick and thin, in sickness and in health? He swallowed.

Until death.

He wanted to think he could be someone Liz and the baby could rely on, but honestly, he didn’t know. The few times Carlotta had depended on him, he’d failed spectacularly.

Maybe he was just a screw-up.

The elevator door opened onto a plush lobby and glass doors with gold lettering that spelled out “Elizabeth Fischer, Attorney at Law.”

Liz would expect nice things in life—money and travel and socializing with the right people.

Could he be that guy?

The elevators doors started to close, and he put his arm out to stop them.

He could only try his damnedest.

He took a deep breath and walked through the glass doors into a small waiting area. A receptionist looked up and smiled.

“May I help you?”

“Is Liz available?”

She gave the flowers a suspicious look. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Your name, please?”

“Wesley Wren.”

“Just a moment.”

The girl turned at an angle so he couldn’t hear what she said into the phone. When she hung up, she smiled and pointed to a dark wood door. “Go right in.”

His feet grew heavier with each step that carried him across the carpet. He took a deep breath, then opened the door.

Liz looked up from her desk and gestured him inside. She was on the phone and held up a finger indicating she’d be through in a minute. She arched an eyebrow at the flowers and gestured for him to have a seat.

Wes sighed. More waiting.

He decided to stand, but slid his backpack off his shoulder onto a chair. He realized this would be a good time to get the ring, and with his back turned to Liz, he pulled out the black bag. He peeked inside for reassurance, grateful the sales lady had put a bow on the jewelry case.

The jacket was feeling hot and scratchy. He ran a finger around the collar and scanned Liz’s office. On her bookshelf was a picture of an older couple—her parents, he guessed. There was a lot he didn’t know about her, but there was time to learn.

When he heard her wrapping up the call, his heart jumped to his throat. But this was how all men felt before they proposed, he reasoned...it was natural to be nervous.

She put down the phone and came around her desk, looking long and lean in a pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse that make her boobs look even bigger...or maybe that was because of the baby. A matching jacket hung on the back of her chair.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

“Just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” He held out the flowers. His hand was shaking.

“Thank you.” She took the flowers, which were, he realized, dripping a little. She found a vase on her bookshelf and put them inside. “I’m glad you came by, I was going to call you today.”

“Have you talked to Dad?”

“Um...no.” She turned her back for a moment and seemed to be wrestling with something. Wes decided this was as good a time as any to do it.

He retrieved the jewelry case and dipped to one knee. Too late, he realized that cutting off the blood flow to part of his body might not be a good idea. He felt lightheaded.

Liz turned around and her mouth opened. “What on earth?”

He gulped for air. “Liz, I know I don’t have much to offer you right now, but I want to be here for you, and for our baby.” He cracked open the jewelry case. “Will you marry me?”

Liz seemed frozen. “I...Wesley, this is so unexpected.”

“Because I’m Randolph’s son, you didn’t think I would do the right thing?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He held the jewelry box higher. “Do you like it?”

“It’s very...pretty.”

Something in her voice made him peek at the jewelry case. The dainty pink gold bracelet mocked him. He snapped it shut. “Sorry, wrong box.” He stood and hastily retrieved the box from the white gift bag, opening it to reveal the diamond solitaire ring.

He got down on his knee again. “Now will you marry me?”

Liz’s eyes swam with tears. “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.”

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. She was going to say yes.

“But I can’t marry you.”

Abject relief flooded his body like a tsunami, quickly replaced by a wake of confusion. “Why not?”

“I was going to call you today because I went to the doctor for some more exact testing.”

Concern blipped in his chest. “Is the baby okay?”

She smiled. “Yes. But I’m further along in the pregnancy than I thought.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not the father.”

Emotions assaulted him, one after another. Shock...hurt...uncertainty...elation.

And when Meg’s face popped into his head, a final emotion descended.

Misery
.

Chapter Thirty-one

“HERE’S TO WES NOT BEING A FATHER,” Carlotta said, lifting her glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” Hannah said with an obliging clink. She was happily back in her Goth garb, her face jewelry restored and her arm tattoos on display. “He really dodged a bullet.”

“I hope he’s learned something, but I have a feeling this situation wrecked his chances with the girl he likes.”

“There are lots of girls out there.”

“I suppose,” Carlotta said. “I just hate to see him get his heart broken on the first time out, you know?”

“Like you did?”

Carlotta nodded in concession. “Yes.”

“So what’s the deal with Richie Rich these days?”

“He’s been spending a lot of time at the hospital with the Tully family.”

“How’s Tracey’s dad?”

“Improving, slowly.”

“I guess he and your dad were close.”

“At one time, I’d say they were best friends.” She sipped from her drink. “But I guess friendships don’t always last.”

Hannah was scrutinizing the base of her glass. “People change, I suppose.”

“Uh-hm.”

“Have you heard from your father?”

“No. He’s being held in solitary confinement.”

“Solitary? That sounds extreme.”

“He gets to eat with the other inmates, but it’s the only privilege he has.” She took another drink. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but Liz said it’s because a relative of one of his former clients is housed there, too.”

“He’s in danger?”

“I don’t know if a threat has been made, but that’s the general consensus.” She sighed. “Wouldn’t that be the cherry on top of the shit sundae if Randolph is whacked in prison before he tells us about our mother?”

Hannah shifted in her seat. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault—this is my crazy life.” She sighed. “Speaking of which, Jack spent the night last night.”

“Oh? I thought you two had made some kind of pact to keep your hands off each other.”

“We tried. We failed.”

“Well, how was it?”

Carlotta gave in to the warm curl of satisfaction in her stomach. “It was great, like always. But something was different...Jack was different, in a good way.”

“You mean not an asshole?”

“Yeah, actually. We had breakfast this morning like normal people. I don’t know, it was just...nice.”

Hannah frowned. “Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Fall in love with Jack Terry. There’s only one way for that to end well...and thousands of ways for it not to.”

Carlotta winced. “What if I said I already have?”

“Oh, Jesus. Carlotta, I get it—you two have that whole jungle sex thing going on. But...”

“What?”

Hannah sighed. “Okay, I’m just going to say this—I think because of the situation with your dad, you’re always going to pick a guy who’s not going to be here for you.”

Hurt barbed through her chest. “That’s not true...is it?”

Hannah held up her hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Well, while we’re on the subject, maybe you’d like to talk about why you’re with a guy who worships you, and you can’t wait to get away.”

Hannah scoffed. “It’s Chance Hollander—of course I can’t wait to get away. Have you met him?”

“I think you like him.”

“I do not.”

“Then explain why you agreed to go out with him.”

“Because he agreed to finish paying for the tattoo on my back.”

“Which you and I both know you could easily afford to pay for on your own.”

Hannah frowned. “Okay, I like him...he’s...I don’t know, he’s
sweet
.”

“So why are you moving out?”

“Because I don’t do sweet. I do married guys who don’t expect anything from me. I don’t want to break the big lug’s heart.”

“Maybe you’re protecting more than just
his
heart.”

“And on that note,” Hannah said, “I’m going to the crapper.” She slid out of the booth and walked across the bar to the ladies’ room, leather and hardware clanging. People gave her a wide berth.

Carlotta shook her head, then checked her phone, secretly hoping Jack had called. He hadn’t...but Peter had sent her an email.

Here’s that list you asked for, hope it helps somehow. Looking forward to our dinner Friday. I miss you. xox

She sighed. The moment when she’d rolled over this morning to find Jack in her bed had been her happiest in recent memory. With Peter, the thrill was gone. All the time she’d spent with him in his lovely home, all the meals they’d shared at his luxurious dining table, or out by his pool, hadn’t given her a fraction of the pleasure of having oatmeal this morning with Jack in her dated, cramped kitchen.

She was in love with Jack, and despite what Hannah said, she believed he would be there for her. Hadn’t he changed just in the time she’d known him?

She idly scrolled through the email to the list of clients Randolph had allegedly bilked. Her heart sank at the sheer number of them. Some of the names were familiar to her from the country club, and social circles her parents had once enjoyed. Even more disturbing were the foundations on the list. Stealing from people was bad enough, but stealing from charitable organizations?

“How could you, Dad?” she whispered.

Indeed
, her mind pinged...
how could he
? The father she knew and loved couldn’t have. If anything, seeing the names of foundations on the list made her think for the first time in a long time that maybe Randolph was innocent.

Then one name on the list stopped her cold: HAL Properties.

Carlotta’s eyes watered and her vision blurred as realization washed over her. No wonder Hannah was leading a double-life around her. No wonder Hannah didn’t want Carlotta to meet her family. No wonder her sister had reacted strangely when she’d heard Carlotta’s name.

Hannah returned noisily and slid into the booth. “Explain to me one-ply toilet paper. I mean—hey, are you okay?”

Carlotta managed to shake her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“I asked Peter to get me a list of people my father is accused of defrauding. He just sent it.” She turned her phone around for Hannah to see, but since Hannah didn’t look at it, it was clear she already knew.

“Please don’t look at me like that. I can explain.”

“I wish you would.”

Hannah hesitated, then wiped her hand over her mouth. “I was still in high school when my parents lost their savings and retirement. It was a big hit to our lifestyle. I was taken out of private school, I lost all my friends, and we moved to a much smaller house. I remember the stress and my parents arguing constantly.”

That all sounded familiar. “Go on.”

Hannah sighed. “I don’t remember when I first heard the name Randolph Wren, but I knew he was the cause of a lot of grief in my world. I was angry because I thought here my siblings and I were doing without, and his kids were probably living high...on my family’s money. Years later, I was working a ritzy party in the kitchen, and I witnessed a woman being thrown out because she had a counterfeit ticket.”

“Me,” Carlotta said. “I remember. You let me in through the kitchen.”

“I thought what you were doing was great. I hated all the rich people there because of the way they’d treated me when my family fell on hard times, and I considered it payback that someone was taking advantage of all that excess. I didn’t know who you were until you told me your name.”

“But you knew right away Randolph was my father?”

“Yeah. And I don’t know—I guess I was a little obsessed with finding out more about you.”

“And then?”

Hannah shrugged. “And then I thought you were cool...and fun. And I came to realize you and Wes were victimized by that whole situation more than anyone else.”