Blame It on Paris (29 page)

“Hey, Kel…” Liz, Will's youngest sister, showed up under the tree, and abruptly spotted her. “You needed to escape from there, too? When they started up with the big-band songs, I had to catch some air.”

Liz plunked down on the bench beside her. “My mom's having a blast. Definitely her dream of a party, but it sure isn't mine. Too many canapés and Chantilly and pink rouge, you know? Not that Mom is that old. There's just a heavy focus on investment strategies and retirement homes and grandkids in every conversation. A major whew.”

Liz, thankfully, seemed oblivious to Kelly's freaked-out mood, and just having her there helped Kelly get a grip.

“You've never lived anywhere but South Bend, have you?” Liz was happy to gallop in any conversational direction.

“Nope. Born and raised here.”

“Yeah, me, too. That's why I'm dying to get out. I'm so hungry to move to Chicago. Someplace with life and lights and things to
do
. People with energy and ideas. People with some edge, you know?” She stretched her long legs, then glanced at Kelly. “You don't agree?”

“Well, I loved trekking into Chicago. Love traveling whenever I can afford it, too. But I have to admit, I always love it here. It's just
home
.”

“You don't ever get bored?”

“Sometimes. But it seems like, well, I'd love to travel to glamorous places, do glamorous things. But over the long haul, this seems to be a good place. The kind of place where you feel safe, where people know you, where you'd want to raise your kids because there's such a strong sense of family and all that. Sounds boring to you, huh?”

“Maybe it won't later,” Liz said, clearly seeking to find a tactful response. “I just need out of here for now. I'm not ready to settle down—Hey, Will!”

Kelly turned swiftly at Liz's delighted greeting. She'd had no idea that Will had walked up and found them, or how long he'd been standing there. He answered his sister immediately, but he wasn't looking at Liz—he was looking at her.

He stepped closer, reached out a hand, his expression looking absolutely grave.

“What's wrong?” she asked immediately.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “I just heard you talking.”

She searched his face. She couldn't imagine anything she'd said to Liz that was odd or that he'd have objected to, but something happened, because his expression echoed a man who'd been hit hard with the wrong kind of surprise.

The band suddenly picked up the happy birthday song. “Mom's going to open up presents,” he said. “We'd better get over there.”

“Sure,” she said. But she suddenly wasn't even remotely sure of anything.

 

T
HREE AFTERNOONS LATER
,
Will sat in Dr. O'Malley's waiting room, waiting for his dad to come out. Aaron claimed the visit was unnecessary, since he already knew he was going to get a completely clean bill of health.

Will bought that like he bought into fairy tales. His dad would never have asked Will to drive him unless he feared hearing a medical verdict that he didn't want the rest of the family to know.

Will also figured his dad was going to turn this into another effort to manipulate him into taking on the business. But Maguire's, right now, wasn't remotely on his mind.

Kelly was. He'd been shaken ever since his mother's birthday bash.

Kel didn't want to live in Paris.

She'd never wanted to live in Paris.

She'd said she would. She'd said she'd come with him. He knew she meant it, and he'd believed she'd
wanted
to go to Paris with him, wanted to be with him. He'd believed she wanted everything they'd had in Paris together, that the only reason they were both in South Bend was to resolve family problems, after which, they were both free.

“Mr. Maguire?” The nurse standing in front of him looked impatient, as if she'd been trying to get his attention for some time. Possibly she had. His father answered to Mr. Maguire. He never had.

“Your father would like you to join him in the doctor's office,” the older woman told him, and ushered him into a room at the end of a long hall.

Will walked in and immediately noted his father's pale complexion and angry eyes.

“Aaron's ankle has healed well,” Dr. O'Malley said pleasantly. “In fact, he's fully recovered from the accident. We're pleased with all the X-rays and tests in that regard.”

“He's trying to put a ‘but' in there,” Aaron growled to his son.

Dr. O'Malley ignored him, something he'd probably learned to do a long time ago when dealing with certain impossible patients. “However, his blood pressure is through the roof. It would help if he'd quit sneaking the occasional cigar, but that really isn't the issue. His blood-sugar levels are too low. He's got a building hiatal hernia, as well as ulcers. So far, the ulcers have been controllable with medication, but the best we can say is that they're not getting worse.”

“He's making a lot out of little things,” Aaron said to Will. “You grow older, your body starts to wear out. It's annoying as hell, but it's not like any of this is a surprise.”

Will looked directly at the doctor. “He needs to cut down on work.”

“It's so nice to talk to someone who can add two and two. Your father certainly can't. In an ideal world, he could just cut down, but your father doesn't seem to be able to do that.”

“I could if I wanted to,” Aaron interjected.

“And that's the thing. He doesn't want to. So if he continues on this pattern, he's headed for some serious health repercussions. Since I can't get him to see reason, Mr. Maguire, I'm hoping you can.”

“Poppycock,” Aaron grumped when they climbed into Will's car a few minutes later. “And don't tell your mother any of that crap. She's on me all the time about traveling and getting out of the business and doing things together.” He shot his son a sneaky glance. “Of course, we'd be able to do those things if you'd come on board.”

“All right.”

“Don't waste your time saying no. I've heard it all before. You act like I'm torturing you, offering you a chance to climb into a successful business that's done well by all of us. I raised you to care about family, so I've never understood—”

“I said I'd do it, Dad. And I will. If we can come to terms.”

“—why you wanted to take off, live in Paris. Kicking around's one thing, every man needs to sow some oats. But you're getting near thirty now, I think….” Aaron stopped talking. Stopped moving. They were at a stoplight on Grape Road that stayed red and stayed red and stayed red. And when it finally turned green, Aaron said, “
What
did you say?”

“I said that I'll take over Maguire's. If you and I can come to terms.”

Back at the house, Will asked his mom to come through with a couple sandwiches and iced tea, then to leave them be in the library for a while. Barbara looked as if her son had given her gold. She didn't know what the specific discussion was going to be about. Didn't care. Typical of his mom, she could smell something good in the air.

She danced in with the sandwich tray and tea, bussed both her men on the forehead, swore no calls would get through unless there was a fire and closed the double doors to give them privacy.

“You may not be willing to live with my terms, Dad,” Will said frankly.

“Maybe not. Let's hear what you have to say.” His father leaned forward, and damnation, but if he didn't shock Will by listening.

K
ELLY YANKED
off her gardening gloves, swatted at a mosquito and stood up. The two peony plants were planted. Now she just had to mulch and water.

Ideally, she wouldn't have chosen to garden at seven-thirty on a hot, muggy night in the silk shirt and skirt she'd worn to work, but she was an emotional basket case. No point in denying it. She probably should have asked Will if he wanted peonies planted in the backyard before going ahead, but what the hey. The yard needed color; peonies were going to look gorgeous in that northeast corner, and she had to do
something
to calm herself.

Coming home from work, she'd picked up the mail and found the letter.

The letter sitting in the front hall right now.

She knifed open the first bag of mulch and started mounding it—another action that drew every mosquito from here to Indianapolis. She wasn't crying. It wasn't that kind of upset. She was thinking about crying, nonstop, but mostly she was festering on the inside. The letter was huge, but it wasn't the whole crisis.

Will was the whole crisis. They'd barely shared two seconds since his mother's party, and even though he was busy, Kelly knew perfectly well he was avoiding her. She didn't know specifically why, but she could guess. She'd pushed him too far. She'd nagged and badgered him too much. When it came down to true, clear thinking, she'd lost him because she couldn't get her shit together fast enough.

That wasn't counting that she probably didn't measure up when he'd seen her next to all his old, gorgeous, rich girlfriends at his mom's party—but that was just a detail, and she knew it.

She sniffed, opened the second bag of mulch, wiped a grimy hand on her Banana Republic outlet skirt, and almost jumped five feet when she suddenly saw Will striding toward her from the corner of the house.

“I rang the bell but couldn't find you. The house was open, so I figured you had to be around here somewhere…
Kel
. That's way too heavy for you.” He jogged forward and grabbed the bag of mulch. The idiot was wearing a suit, the jacket open, but still a suit, which meant he immediately got mulch dust all over him.

She opened her mouth to yell, but couldn't because she was drinking him in. Something was different about him. Maybe a look of freedom or confidence or something, probably because he'd come over to formally dump her—but whatever it was, it looked good on him. Sexy. Compelling.

He wasn't meeting her eyes, making her feel even more tied up and freaked, but his hands did happen to be occupied, shaking out the mulch in a circle, so it was possible he didn't mean to be ignoring her. “Peonies?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know I should have asked you first. But that corner doesn't get a lot of sun, so…”

“They'll be perfect here.” He added, “My mom never stops talking about gardening, so that's how I knew the plant. And just so you know, she was nuts about the gardening book you bought her.”

“Was she?” Kelly thought her voice sounded pathetic. She'd really wanted to give his mother something that everybody else—everybody
rich
else—wouldn't think of.

“Beside-herself happy. She's got gardening books, but none about the history of design. She's crazy about it. You've got a hose close?”

“Yeah, I'll bring it.” It was one of those old hoses, heavy to lug, and when she put the nozzle on, a wee bit of it missed and zapped him in the side.

He yelped, then laughed as if everything were perfectly fine between them, when they both knew it wasn't. Yet he just stole the hose from her and watered in the new plants, while she picked up the mulch bags and started the cleanup, moving slowly. As the sun dropped, the temperature cooled and the bugs got worse, yet she didn't want to hurry. She would likely have done anything to postpone the conversation she feared was coming. The dread thudding in her pulse seemed even worse, because Will coming over and joining her, the way they always seemed so naturally comfortable together, only invoked another sharp pang of loss.

“Good and watered in,” he announced, and walked over to turn off the water. And just like that, the fun was over and her worst fear began.

“Kel,” he said lazily, “we're not going to Paris.”

“I knew you didn't come over here to hang, much less to mulch. Believe me, I knew, Will.”

“Huh?” Momentarily he looked confused, then motioned toward the house. “Let's go in and clean up, okay?”

“No.” He looked at her in confusion. “I can't go in the house for a few more minutes. Just let it go, all right? There's something in there I can't face for a while. Can we sit out on the steps?”

Naturally, Will, being Will, had to amend the plan. After rinsing their hands under the hose,
she
sat on the steps while he went into the kitchen, emerged with two dripping-cold cans of pop and a damp towel to wipe off their faces and necks. They both hunkered down on the front step, watching some neighborhood kids play kick ball at the end of the road.

“I had a long conversation with my dad,” Will said. He was next to her, hip-touching close—but not. Not touching anywhere.

“Your dad?” She'd been so certain a breakup conversation was coming that she had to struggle to change mental gears.

“You were right, Kelly. It was on me to figure it out, not him. And you had the key, not me.” Will sighed, stretched out his long legs. “I hate it when a woman is right.”

“What is this humor? Tell me what happened!”

“Wellll.” He told her, about taking his dad to the doctor's, hearing the doc's prognosis, then cornering his dad. “You told me I loved the company, Kel. But I've been so busy hating it for so many years that I never opened my stubborn eyes and looked. My whole life, I've actually been into business.”

“I didn't think you'd ever see it.”

“Well, that was the thing. Separating what I hated from what I loved, and figuring out how I could fit into it. So I told Dad I'd take it on, but on certain terms. I'm not supporting my sisters, not like he does, treating them like princesses with no brains of their own. So I told him I wanted a salary and stock in the company, a formal payback plan. My sisters can either take a job or a minor share of stock—not enough to give them voting rights over me. Anything else Dad wants to settle on them is fine, just as long as it isn't on me.”

“How'd he take that plan?”

“He poured the whiskey. You can probably smell it on my breath.” He leaned forward, close enough to kiss her, but he didn't.

“No smell of whiskey,” she murmured, seeing his blond chin stubble, the tired lines around his eyes now. A dog barked in the middle of the street. She didn't look up.

“Well, we only had a sip. Dad shouldn't have had any, and I knew I was driving. Here.” He scooped a curl off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “I also told Dad he'd never make it as a retired layabout, and we needed to face reality, because we'll never be able to work together. So I offered him a job doing PR if he wanted it. He knows everybody in the business. They love him. He could do that totally separate from me so we wouldn't clash. If he doesn't want to, that's fine, too.”

“How'd he take that?”

“He wanted more whiskey.” He sighed. “Then we went out and told Mom. And she wanted to have a bunch of toasts, too. Mostly they both wanted to call you so you could have toasts with us, because they knew perfectly well you were the one who brought me on board.”

“It wasn't me,” Kelly began.

“Yeah. It was. It always was. My sisters may not be terribly thrilled with the deal, but it's not hurting them. And actually, they might like the chance to be involved—or to have their own nest egg to invest or spend their own way, instead of always having to ask for it. And that's enough on this. My family issues have dominated our time way more than enough. It's time to get back to
us
.”

She was just lifting the cold pop to her lips. Now she set it down again. Her fingertips were suddenly frozen, and not because of the temperature of the can. “Okay,” she said carefully.

“I needed to find a way to resolve the deal with my dad. But the motivation was you, when I realized that you really didn't want to live in Paris.”

“I told you I would—”

“Yeah. I know you did. But I also heard you talking to my sister about how much this was home for you. It wasn't what you said, it was the tone in your voice. How much it means to you. I didn't realize, I swear, Kel. I thought you'd love it in Paris.”

“I'd love anywhere we were together. I told you. I meant it.” Love ached in her voice. “It was you. I wanted you to be happy. And at first, I thought you were so
dumb,
Will. You couldn't see it, how hard you were working in Paris, how readily you found business work there, because that's
so
who you are. Maybe you wanted to think of yourself as not driven or ambitious, but I have news—”

“Well, maybe I am. Just a little.”

“But en route, I got so confused. Because when we got back home here, I saw how it was with your sisters, your dad. They never let up. So then I thought maybe you
were
better off in Paris, and I'd just thrown an apple in the orange bin by pushing you so hard to settle things with your dad.”

“Apple in the orange bin?”

“Whatever. I can't do metaphors right now. I'm having a major blond moment, and never mind that I'm brunette. Anyway. I'm just trying to say I didn't think you'd be happy until you figured it out. It wasn't even about your dad or about where you lived. You can live anywhere. You can do anything. But I really believed you needed to know the kind of work, the kind of life, that would make you happy. You needed to know
you
.”

“Hey. You were the one who lost her identity.”

“I did, I did. But maybe that was when I recognized the lost soul in you, Maguire.”

“Nah. I wasn't a lost soul. The minute I found you, I was never a lost soul again. Just because it took me a while to put the pieces together, I knew what the finished picture had to be, Kel. You. With me. Forever.”

Oh, for God's sake. She thought she'd lost him. Her pop spilled and so did his when she hurled herself at him. Her mouth found his like a bee finds honey, knowing what she needed, knowing where exactly to find it. He tasted…oh, yeah. Just like her magical Will, the lips smooth and tender, that tongue of his wily and wet.

His shirt crinkled when he wrapped his arms around her, taking her in, holding her close, rocking her. “I never wanted you to give up anything for me, Kel. It made me feel good that you loved me enough to do that. But it made me feel awful as hell to think you'd leave something that really, really mattered to you to cater to me.”

“I'd be happy to cater to you.” She stopped to kiss him again, on the throat, on his cheek. “I just didn't believe you'd be happy, which meant that I didn't believe we could be happy as a pair unless both of us were very clear about who we are. What we need. From each other. From ourselves. I was afraid.”

“I don't want you ever afraid again.”

“I was afraid you'd always feel dissatisfied. Kind of trapped if all that stuff about your father was hanging over your head.”

“Well, it's not hanging now.” He stood, pulled her up and leveled a slow, hard kiss on her lips until they were both out of breath. “I've got something in my pocket for you.”

“I know.”

“Not
there
. My
real
pocket. The right one. Feel?”

Since he asked, she voluntarily groped and probed. “I'm finding two hard things. One is harder than the other. But one definitely seems to feel like a small square box.”

“Yeah, that's the one I was trying to tell you about. The other thing's for you, too, but I think we'd better go inside first, don't you?”

She did, but suddenly remembered what was inside the front door, and froze.

 

“W
HAT'S WRONG
?
What's in the house?”

“A letter,” she said. “Actually a letter and a check. Or an international money order, to be precise, rather than a
check
-check. Not that I've seen anything like this before, but—”

“Kelly, spit out what you're talking about.” His arm protectively around her, he determinedly led her inside now. Lawn mowers were still droning in the distance, a few kids in the street playing kickball, but the sun was dropping like a stone.

Inside Kelly's front door, Will switched on the overhead, which happened to be an old brass chandelier, and immediately smelled fresh paint, dried fresh varnish. The front hall looked extraordinarily different, with crown moldings and gleaming wood floors. She'd done wonders, which didn't surprise him. The only things out of place were the two torn pieces of paper on the floor.