Blame It on Paris (25 page)

He heard his father's bark from the library just as he reached the front door. He backed up, carrying a fresh mug in one hand and a wrapped present in the other. The day outside was a steamer—the first of the summer so far—with the threat of storms later in the afternoon.

The threat of storms was already prevalent in the cool, quiet library. Will took one look at his dad's face and could smell ozone. “How you doing today?” he asked.

“Pissed off that my ankle isn't better. Frustrated to be cooped up at home. But fine. You got a minute?”

“Sure,” Will said.

His dad still hadn't regained his normal ruddy coloring. Ironically Will wanted Aaron to be his usual tyrannical self. He was doing fine. Just sitting. But Will couldn't remember a time when Aaron didn't charge around full bore, both at work and at home. “Sit,” Aaron said, and motioned to the chair across from the wide leather couch.

His dad had the bad ankle propped on a pillow on the coffee table, his cane by his side, an untouched tray of a very fancy lunch on another table nearby. “Your mother's driving me crazy,” he confided. “Going to no end of trouble, cooking me all kinds of stuff. My God. Eggs Benedict this morning, with crepes and fresh pineapple. Now a fresh crab salad and some kind of cucumber soup and this strange-looking thing.” He shook his head at the unidentified plate. “I've been trying to coax the dog in here to eat every morning so she won't know I didn't eat it myself.”

Will actually relaxed and smiled. “Hey, you could try a few bites.” Something in him was hungry. Not for the gourmet tray, but to share a simple, honest smile with his dad. How many years had it been since they'd had a conversation? A normal, everyday, no-porcupine-barbs conversation?

“I
do
eat. But I'm not getting any exercise because of this goddamn ankle. How can I work up an appetite? And she's making enough for ten men.” Aaron shifted position with a grimace. “Were you going somewhere?”

“Yeah. A friend's birthday.” He didn't mention the birthday was for Kelly's mother. No reason to hide it, but so far, they were talking fairly easily and Will didn't want to invite any prying.

“Well. I won't keep you long. I just wanted to tell you, son, you're doing an outstanding job. I keep getting reports from the plant, from the office, from everywhere. You took over like a lion. I knew you could. I knew you would.”

“Thanks. When you get back in the saddle, I'd like to think you won't have any extra worries. Things are going fine. A lot of great people are helping me. But everyone misses you.”

“I doubt that. I know perfectly well they call me a slave driver behind my back,” Aaron said wryly. “But I was hoping your doing this would be a good thing for you.”

“I'm glad to help out.” Will could feel himself getting stiff, in spite of his resolve.

“I don't know how long I can keep control of this helm, Will.”

Will nodded carefully. “You've built an extraordinary empire. But one advantage to that, Dad, should be having the financial freedom to make whatever choices you want to. Slow down, when you want to slow down. Sell, if that's what you want to do. Keep it all under your own wing, if that's how you want it to be.”

He didn't mention the one choice he knew Aaron wanted—for him to take over. And for once, that moment passed without a fight. Aaron studied him, but he didn't take him on the way he usually did. Just smoothly moved into another subject, and Will relaxed again, thinking damn, he was home free. They'd actually managed a whole conversation without being inclined to strangle each other.

“Your mother's sixtieth party is a week from Sunday. Arrangements at the club are all finalized. Think we'll have better than three hundred.”

Again Will shared a smile with his dad. “That sounds like hell and a half.”

“You said it. And white tie besides.” Aaron groaned. So did Will. “At least you're the one who'll have to dance with her.”

“Everyone will dance with her, but you know I will, too. Having a car accident's a hell of a way to get out of it, though,” Will teased.

“That's what your mother says.” Aaron added quickly, “She'd like us all to go to church together that morning. It would mean a lot to her if you'd attend.”

Will could feel his smile slip, his stomach start to clench. “You know I'll be there for the party, and anything I can do to help ahead of time. But I don't know about the church part.”

“Would it would kill you to go to church? For your mother's sake?”

“It wouldn't kill me, no. But I can't adopt a religion as a birthday present to Mom.” He heard the snap in his voice, tried to erase it. “I know Mom wants me to believe. But I don't. Pretending would just be hypocritical on my part.”

“Hypocritical? I'd call it respectful. Respecting your mother.”

Like he'd ever failed to respect his mom?

Twenty minutes later, Will was still breathing smoke when he stalked out to the car.

Still. As he drove toward Kelly's mother's house, he realized the rotten truth that he wasn't mad at his father but himself.

Maybe Aaron had initiated the fight, but that was always true. Aaron was still under the weather, his ankle still causing him pain and frustration. Further, for Aaron to be housebound for the past couple weeks was absolute hell for his dad, and Will knew all that, which meant he should have kept his cool.

They'd had a peaceful, productive week together. Will should have known it was too good to last. Only now he felt lower than dirt. He could have done better with his dad, and he knew it.

But as he turned onto Char's street, he closeted that problem. The immediate challenge facing him was going to take his full concentration.

Kelly didn't know he was showing up, had verbally fretted that he wouldn't be received well because of her ex-fiancé. He understood that, but he'd caught enough clues to realize she was worried about how friends and family were going to treat her.

It just wasn't right, letting her face a tough family situation alone.

Now, though, he started to get a picture of what he was walking into. Char's house was located near the end of the block, where neighbors had roped off the street and taken ownership. Picnic tables were set up right in the road. Smoke billowed from a half dozen barbecues. A handful of bullet-shaped, grandpa-aged men supervised the two kegs parked in the back of pickup trucks. Dogs of all sizes chased kids of all sizes, everybody shrieking and yelping as they ran through sprinklers. Babies were parked in the shade, either in strollers or buggies. Adults milled everywhere. People were talking and shouting and singing.

In fact, the noise level rivaled the decibels of a Saturday-afternoon football game.

Will had assumed a block party meant a few neighborhood couples coming over to share a birthday cake, not a free-for-all that involved hundreds, food, booze, gambling, and—in someone's front yard—dancing. The dancing was as crazy as the rest of it—the music changing from the ancient “Tennessee Waltz” to an old Police rock song while Will was walking from where he'd parked the car.

He searched the crowd, seeking Kelly. In a blink, he'd summed up the chaos as pretty damn great. Maybe a little rowdy, but the family feeling and natural camaraderie were unmistakable, and not for the first time, he recognized what strong emotional, healthy ties Kelly had here.

Ties that he would deprive her of, if they took off for Paris.

That thought put another whump in his mood, so again, he tried to shake it off. He located a picnic table, which was mounded with presents all wrapped in comics, added his to the heap—although his looked out of place with its pink wrapping and bow. He thought at the time he'd gone the long mile for a guy, but now he could see that Sunday-funnies and gag gifts were more the order of the day, not something pretty for a pretty lady.

Since he'd done everything else wrong so far today, he figured he might as well look for more trouble. And almost immediately he spotted Char—dressed to hold court in white shorts and a white top with a child's gold crown perched on her head, her laughter peeling out through the crowd.

He was aiming for her when he finally caught sight of Kelly. She was wearing a red polo, white shorts, her hair clipped up and out of her way, carrying a tray of drinks that looked bigger than she was.

He turned toward her and tried to wade through the sea of moving bodies. Several people glanced at him. Some did a double take, and even a triple. A couple shouted out a hi, as though they thought they knew him. A few others gave him a startled, long stare, as if they knew of him—but that was probably just some latent paranoia showing up.

“Why, Will…” Kelly's mom caught up with him before he could reach Kelly. Char greeted him with a deliberately big hug and a welcoming hello, which gave him a chance to wish her happy birthday. As if sensing he needed a hero—or a heroine—Char grabbed his arm protectively and started introducing him around.

His head started buzzing. There was a Mary, and an Aunt Willa and an Aunt Suzanna, then a bunch of people whose last name was Matthews—he gathered they were ex-in-laws—and then came a Pete and a Bill and another Bill and a Steve who-used-to-play-football and another Steve who-was-just-divorced.

There were too many names. He felt himself scrutinized on a par with a piece of meat at a butcher's, shook more hands than he could count, took on chitchat, all the while trying to find Kel in the crowd again. Still, it was an easy crowd to work, people just looking to have a good time, and yeah, curious about an outsider, but there was nothing weird about that.

Someone named Gaynelle was introduced to him—a lady about Char's age, who heard his name and promptly flushed red. But the minute she turned away, Char just said kindly to him, “No help for that, Will. Oh, and here's Uncle Fred…”

Fred pumped his hand like he was a faucet in a drought. “You're one of those Maguires? I'll be damned.”

It was going okay—except for not finding Kelly—until Char suddenly turned to him, something different in her voice, and said, “And, Will, this is Jason White. Jason, this is Will Maguire.”

And that was it. All the noise, all the laughter, all the pushing, slightly sweaty bodies seemed to fade out like a bleached wash.

“So…you're the son of a bitch.”

The man's voice was pleasant enough, but the content made Will think of acid rain.

So, Will thought.

So.

He had about a millisecond to form impressions. Her ex-fiancé was about what he'd expected, since Kelly would never have picked a loser. The guy had decent looks, plenty of IQ in the eyes. He was a little round-shouldered, Will thought critically, but that judgment might have been colored by his searching hard for a fault. Jason, similarly, was looking him over as if examining roadkill.

“I was wondering if I'd have a chance to meet you,” Will said, with no inflection at all in his tone, or he hoped there wasn't. If he'd ever aspired to being onstage, which he hadn't, this was certainly his moment. There didn't seem to be a soul in the whole circus-sized crowd who didn't know that Will was the one Kelly had left Jason for—at least as far as they knew.

“I can't believe you'd show up here.” Jason, wearing a white polo and shorts, was a few inches shorter than Will, which made Will extra wary. Short guys always had more to prove in public.

Will had plenty to prove, too, of course. That Kelly didn't have to worry anything would happen if he showed up. That Kelly would know she had a support system here if anyone was unkind to her. That Kelly would know he could handle tough situations without bailing.

Which meant he couldn't punch out the bozo, no matter the provocation.

“I didn't come to cause anyone a problem, Jason. I wanted to bring Char a present. To meet more of Kelly's family.”

“Yeah, right. Did you imagine you'd find any friends here? Everyone in this whole crowd has known Kelly and I since we were kids together.”

“Yes, Kelly told me that.” A little late, Will realized he could smell alcohol on Jason's breath.

“You thought you'd be welcome?”

Not that Will could feel a trickle of sweat snaking down his spine, but he was pretty sure if he said anything wrong, anything at all, Jason wouldn't mind taking a swing at him. It wouldn't be about who won or who got hurt. It would just be for the joy of Jason getting to throw a punch.

Will understood the dynamic. He had the same Y chromosome, after all.

But he
had
to come through for Kelly in this. That was it. There were no other choices. He had to be the guy she needed him to be. Period.

“I didn't think about being welcomed or not,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to know some of the people in Kelly's life. Actually, that includes you. I never met her until she was going through hell and a half after the mugging in Paris.”

Jason either didn't hear him or just wanted to bully through his own agenda. “If you think Maguire money's going to make you look good here, you'd better think again. Seduce another guy's woman. You're in the dirt class and there's no shovel deep enough to get you out.”