Everything We Keep: A Novel (13 page)

Edgar lit a cigar, and the tobacco flared bright orange as he stoked the flame with short inhales. “Tell me, Aimee,” he said, exhaling a lungful of smoke, “have you given any more thought to your plans after high school?”

“Yes, sir, I have.” I shifted on my end of the couch to face him in the chair beside me. Graduation was in six weeks. I was nervous, anxious, and excited. “You already know I’ll be at De Anza College for the next two years so I can continue helping my parents at The Goat, but after that I plan to apply to the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco, finish my degree there.”

“Good thinking on your part.” Edgar nodded, hands fisted on his knees. The cigar smoke curled upward, creating a hazy screen between us. “You’ll be ready to take over when your parents retire.”

James rolled his eyes. It was the same story with Edgar. Parents had the responsibility to leave a legacy for their offspring, and the offspring had a responsibility to be ready to take on that legacy.

“I guess that’s the idea,” I acquiesced.

“I think she should open her own restaurant after she graduates.” James took my empty glass and moved to the bar. Behind me, I heard the pop and fizz as he opened a can and poured me another Coke.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Perhaps I will have my own place, someday. My parents need me first, though.”

Thomas followed James to the bar and poured himself another whiskey. “If you open a restaurant, I’ll eat there every day.”

I laughed, looking at Thomas over my shoulder. “You’ll get fat.”

Thomas lifted the whiskey bottle in Edgar’s direction, who nodded.

“I like your parents’ food at The Goat,” Edgar said.

I gawked at him. “You’ve eaten there?”

“Several times.”

My parents never mentioned they’d seen James’s parents there. I had the impression their pub was beneath the Donatos’ tastes.

Claire entered the room and announced, “Marie will have dinner ready in a few moments.”

“Good.” Thomas glanced at his watch. “I have to get home and prepare a proposal for the Chahaya Teak account. I fly to Indonesia on Tuesday.”

Thomas had recently graduated from Stanford University. At twenty-two, he was already managing several of Donato Enterprises’ larger accounts.

Footfalls echoed down the hallway.

“Phil, darling! I didn’t expect to see you,” Claire exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Are you joining us for dinner?”

All heads turned to Phil, who’d entered the room. He hugged Claire, whispering in her ear. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Mr. Donato.

“I need a word, Edgar,” he said, moving out of Claire’s embrace.

Edgar rose to his feet, tugging out the creases in his pants. “After dinner.”

“You killed the Costas deal,” Phil accused, ignoring Edgar’s request. “Why?”

Edgar’s face turned red. His eyes narrowed on Phil. “It’s Sunday. I said, we’ll discuss this later.”

“No! We’ll discuss it now,” Phil exploded. I jumped in my seat. James stiffened, his spine elongating. Thomas narrowed his eyes.

Phil moved farther into the room, stopping behind the couch, where he towered above me. “You’ve ignored my calls all week.”

His voice blasted in my ears. I leaped to my feet and scrambled to the bar. James and I exchanged wary glances.

“Costas was a lucrative deal. Donato would have made a huge profit.”

“At what expense?” Edgar’s tone matched Phil’s. “They’re manufacturing furniture from Brazil nut trees. All of our background checks and research confirms their wood isn’t sourced from sustainable forests. It’s illegally obtained.”

“That’s bullshit. Talk to them. I’ll get their president on the line.”

“Don’t waste your time. Donato associates only with environmentally conscious furniture manufacturers. Costas is not one of them. End of discussion.” Edgar roughly stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray and picked up the whiskey glass Thomas had refilled. He made his way to the door, leaving Phil standing in the middle of the room.

“Don’t you walk out on me!” Phil bellowed when Edgar reached the threshold. “I’m not finished!”

I glanced at James, who stood rigidly beside me. I sensed there was more to this discussion than a cancelled account.

Phil jabbed a finger at Edgar. “You had no right to pull the plug without consulting with me first.”

“As CEO, I had every right!”

“You made me look like an ass.”

Edgar laughed. “You do that on your own. You want to change how people perceive you at Donato? You want me to consider you for the president position? Then stop your reckless practices. Stop the risky deals. That’s when we’ll talk. I’ll not have you bring this company down when you screw up, or else—”

“Or else, what?” Phil sneered. “You’ll give the company to Tommy-boy? He doesn’t have the spine to be president. Our clients will walk all over him. Donato needs a leader who has the guts to make those risky deals if we want to take this company to the next level.” He jabbed a finger at James. “And that sure isn’t Jimbo either. He’d rather spend his time painting flowers and banging his bitch.”

I gasped, mortified. James crushed the soda can he held. I’d never seen him look so upset.

Phil looked wildly around the room, his chest heaving, taking in our startled expressions. His gaze landed on James, who glowered at him. Phil’s expression turned to one of incredulity. “They still don’t know? All these years you’ve kept it from them?” He laughed, rough and deep. “Amazing. You’re much better at keeping secrets than I thought. Bravo, Jimbo.” He clapped, the movement exaggerated.

“Phil, don’t—” I started.

“Which means”—his head whipped to me—“she still doesn’t know about us.” He jerked a finger from James to Thomas and then jabbed his own sternum.

“Shut. The fuck. Up,” James warned.

“James, what is he talking about?” Claire asked. Her face had paled. “What does he mean that you’re painting?”

“It means your son wants nothing to do with Donato Enterprises,” Phil answered for James. “He wants to paint pretty pictures, and he’s been painting ever since the day you ordered him to give back Aimee’s gift.” He folded his arms over his chest. “He’s quite good, actually. At painting, that is. I have no idea how good he is at screwing his girlfriend.”

I felt the blood rush to my feet, keeping me rooted to my spot. Why was he being so cruel and crude? And how the hell did he know James was talented? Had he seen the paintings? I shuffled through memories, wondering if he’d been inside my parents’ house. I couldn’t recall my parents ever mentioning Phil had stopped by.

But despite the shock of Phil’s announcement, I saw through his callous words. He was angry and hurt and taking it out on us.

He looked at me with a mocking tilt to his head. “Perhaps you can enlighten us about your sex life?”

“Phil!” Claire exclaimed, appalled.

James lunged for him, but Thomas grabbed James around the waist and held him back. “He’s not worth it. He’s never been worth it.”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Edgar demanded.

Phil whirled on him. “Donato should have been mine!” he yelled. Spittle rained from his mouth. “It was my birthright. Mine!” He stomped from the room, slamming the library doors behind him so hard they bounced back open.

“Phil!” Claire chased after him.

James was furious. He shoved Thomas off him. I felt horrible for James. His paintings rivaled the fine art decorating his parents’ walls, and to have a talent he cherished exposed in such a raw manner cut him low and deep. James would never forgive Phil.

Edgar paced to the window. He slid his hands into his side pockets and stared beyond the backyard. “So, you’re an artist?”

James pursed his lips, his face taut.

“His paintings are gallery worthy, Mr. Donato,” I remarked when James didn’t say anything. His head whipped in my direction, eyes blazed. “It’s true, James,” I whispered vehemently.

“Is that what you want to do with your life?” Edgar asked James. He sounded defeated.

“I don’t know what the fuck I want.” He stormed from the room.

“Maybe we should have let him paint,” Edgar murmured to his reflection in the window. He shrugged a shoulder and looked at me. “Claire was never keen on the idea. She didn’t want the boys to have hobbies that could inspire a career anywhere else but Donato. And I agreed to support her, whether the boys wanted to work there or not. Their great-grandfather started the company. Every son from each generation worked in the company. So would her boys.” He turned back to the window. “Just another regret I have to live with.”

Thomas approached me. He rubbed my upper arm. “You OK?”

I glanced from Thomas to the hallway beyond the library threshold and back to Thomas.

“Phil’s a prick,” Thomas said, going on to explain how Phil’s been under a lot of pressure to perform. “We’re both in the running for the president position my dad vacated after Uncle Grant—you know, Phil’s dad—passed away. As you heard, Phil hasn’t made the wisest business decisions lately.”

I nodded, not really absorbing what Thomas was saying. “I should go check on James.”

I excused myself from the room and searched for James, finding him in his car, the motor running. I slid into the front passenger seat. James shifted into gear as soon as my door closed. The tires peeled on the asphalt. I scrambled to put on the seatbelt.

James took the back roads, heading uphill toward Skyline Boulevard and our meadow, the special place we went to be alone with each other.

Anger emanated through James’s rough gear shifting. He steered the car around hairpin turns, his speed increasing. I grabbed the door handle. “There’s no point in going to the meadow to have sex if we crash before we even get there.”

James downshifted. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile before he swore. He slammed a hand on the steering wheel. “How the fuck does he know?”

“Who, Phil? I think it was our notes.”

“Our what?”

“The notes we’d passed each other at school. Remember that one time you caught him raiding your desk? I think he read them as you’d suspected.” I told him again the story about Phil walking me home several years back.

James slid me a look. “You never told me this,” he accused. He stopped at the Skyline intersection and glanced in the rearview mirror. A car pulled up behind us, headlights on high beams.

“Yes, I did. You grumbled about Phil being an idiot and said you didn’t want to discuss him. You never like talking about him. Besides, you were more interested in getting your hands on me. Remember? That was right after our first kiss.”

James cracked a smile. He gave me a heated look. “That I remember.”

I blushed. “Anyway, Phil promised to keep your secret even though I never admitted you were painting in the first place.”

“Obviously he can’t keep his mouth shut.” James turned onto Skyline Boulevard. “I’m going to beat the shit out of him when I see him next.”

The car behind us followed, its high beams brightening the interior of James’s car like a lighthouse torch. James swore, his gaze jumping to the rearview mirror. “Fucking idiot needs to fix his lights.”

I glanced in the side mirror. The car tailed us, leaving barely a car’s length between.

“What I can’t figure out is how Phil knows you’re really good.”

“Has he seen my paintings?”

I shook my head. “He’s never been inside my house. Not when I’ve been there. My parents never mentioned anything either. But then, they hadn’t told me your dad’s eaten at The Goat. Today was the first I heard that.”

James sighed. “Well, now my parents know.”

I reached over and rubbed his thigh. “You aren’t fifteen anymore. They can’t tell you to stop painting.”

“I know. It’s just . . .” He rubbed his forearm. “I didn’t want them to find out this way.”

This was new. “You were planning on telling them?”

He shrugged. “I imagined inviting them to a gallery showing and surprising them. It would be my show. Maybe they would buy a piece and hang it in their library. Hell, I’d give them one.”

Oh, James. My heart went out to him. He wanted more than recognition for his work. He wanted his parents to accept his artwork as more than a passing hobby.

“It was a stupid idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“Too late now,” James grumbled. He drove past the turnout for our meadow.

I glanced over my shoulder. “You missed the road.”

“I know.” His gaze bounced from the road to the rearview mirror and back. He drove another few hundred yards, then quickly pulled off the road, letting the tailgater pass.

I gasped. “That looks like Phil’s car.”

James waited until the car disappeared around the bend before making a U-turn. He headed back to the turnoff for our meadow.

James turned onto the side road and cut the lights. “Just in case.”

“Sheesh, he’s furious about something if he’s following us.”

“I don’t know who it was, but I’m not taking any chances. I don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

“What did he mean, earlier, about the three of you?” I asked in reference to him, Thomas, and Phil.

I sensed James tense beside me in the dark.

“That’s OK. You don’t have to tell me.”

He cut the engine. “It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

James was downplaying it. Fury radiated off him, and something else I couldn’t define. He was obviously worried despite telling me not to do the same. I reasoned he’d tell me in his own good time.

He opened the door and the interior light flashed on. I blinked as my eyes adjusted. James grinned.

“Come on. My parents will be disappointed we bailed on dinner, but I have to get back to Stanford tonight and study.” His smile turned wicked. “Let’s go have some fun.”

James grabbed blankets and his Jawbone speaker and iPod. I followed him from the car and over a low fence. We wandered through the trees until they opened up to show the starlit sky. Our favorite spot was on the ridge overlooking the Santa Cruz Mountains. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky this cool spring night.

James fired up the iPod, OutKast’s “The Way You Move.”

My brows arched upward. “That’s an interesting selection. You’re feisty tonight, aren’t you?”