Sex and Key Lime Pie (24 page)

She laughed in spite of her mood. “Good for her. I have to get going. Tell Luc to make sure he takes care of the school by next week.”

She slipped out the door before the emotions she’d been suppressing all week erupted like Mt. Saint Helen. Since Luc discovered the truth, he had not given any indication that he was interested in continuing a relationship with her. To have Sam, Luc would tolerate her. He must have been relieved to learn he wouldn’t have to stoop to the drastic measure of marriage to have his son. The only thing left between them was Sam’s future.

She had to bury the past or she would not survive life here and she knew just how to begin. After returning to the van, she crumpled the list of errands into a ball. There was something more important to take care of.

****

Luc watched the computer screen as he scrolled through the orders and the bill of materials. The business had not fallen apart while he took his vacation. Not that he thought it would, he just never had a good reason to take time off before. He pushed back in the leather chair and rested his feet on the desk. Had it only been a decade since his father’s death? At times it seemed like yesterday and other times it seemed like a hundred years ago. He had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations, and without a family inheritance like Harlan. He should have felt better about his accomplishments.

Miguel strode in the office and dropped a large envelope on the desktop. “For a man who got everything he wanted, you don’t look too thrilled.”

Was his cousin now a mind reader? “If that’s a problem, you handle it. I’m on vacation.”

“It’s not something I can handle. It’s your business. You take care of it.”

Luc pulled out the contents and spread it on the desk. Yellow Post-it notes marked a pile of documents needing signatures: forms for amending Sam’s birth certificate, a school registration—and the most surprising of the stack, a joint custody agreement. He hadn’t asked for one but she gave it to him anyway. “How did you get this?”

“Cheyanne dropped it off.”

“Why didn’t she see me?”

“I don’t know, Luc. Like the rest of the family, I’ve decided to mind my own business. If you want to have an amicable divorce before you ever bothered trying marriage, be my guest. I hope she finds someone who will treat her right next time.”

“Good thing you’re minding your own business.” “I have enough on my mind right now. Lizzy’s expecting.”

“Expecting what?”

“A baby, you idiot.”

“Really? Congratulations.” He should be more excited, but his thoughts lingered on the find someone who will treat her right crack. She wasn’t allowed to replace him. “I have to pick up Sam.”

“Right. At four o’clock. If you hurry, you should be able to catch her at the house.”

The only thing he hated more than being wrong, was his cousin being right. “Piss off, Miguel.”

“You too.”

****

Cheyanne changed into a scruffy pair of jeans and a jersey shirt. A pair of Doc Martens completed the ensemble. From beneath the bed she grabbed the old shoebox and tucked it under her arm. It was time to bury the past. She’d been holding on to an impossible dream.

She headed for the door at the same moment her mother walked in. Rita, dressed to impress in a beige Dior suit, gave Cheyanne’s outfit the once-over and frowned.

“I hope you don’t plan to be seen by anyone in that getup.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom. But no, I am not going visiting.”

Rita lowered herself onto the sofa without a care to the fact that Cheyanne was on her way out the door. “How did things go in California?”

“Very well.”

“When do you leave?”

She leaned against the arm on the couch. “We don’t.”

“Oh for god sake, Cheyanne, why not?”

She let out a choked laugh. “I thought you’d be happy that I was keeping Sam here. He is your only grandchild.”

Rita drummed her manicured nail tips on the coffee table. “You’re staying for my benefit?”

“Can we please not fight about this today? I’ve been through enough in the past few weeks.”

“Well, if you’d listened to me in the first place and stayed away from that man...”

“What is your problem with him? He never did anything to you.”

“You’re better than him.”

“I’m the same as him, and that’s what really burns you. He reminds you of something you want to forget.”

Rita raised her chin in haughty denial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. Luc and I both spent our early years as bastard children of single mothers. Just because you married onto the right side of the tracks didn’t make us any better or any more respectable.”

She let out an indignant snort. “I suppose his entire family knows.”

How sad that her mother’s first thought would be appearances. “Your secret is safe. I gave you my word on that.” Her mother might have wanted to forget where they came from but Cheyanne remembered. It kept her grounded.

“I never would have asked you to come back here if I thought this would happen.”

“Well, what did you think would happen, Mother?”

“I thought if you saw him for what he was, it would help you get over him.”

“I did. I saw a brother who stayed to protect his sister rather than leaving an intolerable situation. A benefactor who has been extremely generous with his family. And most important, I saw a father who loves his son.”

“And a man who broke your heart,” Rita finished.

“Nobody’s perfect. And for the record, you don’t get over the love of your life. You learn to accept, which is what I’ve done.”

Cheyanne heard the banging of the screen door a split second before Luc strode into the living room. The envelope of papers she had left with Miguel was clutched in his hand. “I need to talk to you about this.”

Great! He still hadn’t learned to call first or knock before entering. He stopped short seeing her mother, who glared at him.

“Rita.” He nodded an apology. “Sorry for the interruption. I didn’t see you there.”

“Apparently you didn’t see the front door either or you would have waited on the other side of it until you were asked to enter,” Rita sniped.

“Mom!”

“He doesn’t have the right to barrel into your house whenever it suits him. You were on your way out.”

That hadn’t stopped her mother from making herself at home. “It can wait a minute.”

“I’ll come back later,” he said.

“Why don’t you leave her alone? You’ve taken enough from her already.”

Cheyanne waved a hand to cut off her mother. “Don’t start.”

Luc shrugged off the obvious resentment. “No, let her finish, Cheyanne. I can take it.”

“Maybe I can’t.” Cheyanne closed her eyes and massaged the headache pounding at her temples. What a horrific end to an awful week. The only two people who knew how to push her buttons, going at each other!

To hell with them both. She turned and walked out. Let them tear each other apart. She was tired of being the rope in a game of tug-o-war.

Since Luc’s truck blocked her van, she rounded the corner to the side street where she had parked the Corvette.

The trip to the outskirts of town was a fast, easy run, but once she turned onto the dirt road, the sport’s car bounced like a tennis ball over the quarter mile of potholes down Black Oak. She parked at the end of the street. An early morning shower had left the ground muddy but the air smelled clean and woodsy.

The sight of the old wooden cabin brought a hollow ache pressing her chest. It had taken a decade but the past had come full circle. It seemed right to bury the relationship in the place where it had been born.

In keeping with her luck lately, she had forgotten a shovel. Cheyanne circled the building, looking for tools. She found what she needed in a rusty garden spade. She picked a spot under an appropriately named weeping willow and dug a shallow grave. The physical exertion could not block out the emotional pain. Tears rolled down her face, leaving a salty taste on her lips.

When she finished, she put the box in a plastic bag and placed it in the hole. She covered it with dirt and laid a bunch of hand picked wild flowers on top of the mound.

The past was buried.

Life went on.

****

Luc spent the better part of two hours searching for Cheyanne around town. How far could she have gone on foot? What had she planned to do with the box she’d been holding? He’d recognized it as her time capsule and recalled that Sam said it was to be buried. Why now, after all this time?

He tried Isabelle, Elisabeth and the beach, places she felt the most comfortable. He wouldn’t find her until she wanted to be found. Especially when he remembered that she had another vehicle besides her van. By the time he figured out where she must have gone, he had to pick up Sam.

Maybe he should have followed immediately when Cheyanne took off. Since Rita was Sam’s only surviving grandparent, Luc owed it to his son to try to have some kind of truce with the woman. Luc even understood the protective instincts that led Rita to defend her daughter, but he had not come to threaten Cheyanne.

Mother and daughter had a bizarre relationship. He got the feeling Rita would have said a hell of a lot more but had made certain promises to Cheyanne. As he drove to the soccer field, he recalled the conversation. He had wanted to know what Rita meant when she said Cheyanne had given him enough already.

Think about it and maybe a bright light will go off in your Portuguese brain.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? He didn’t have time to dissect the answer before the children finished camp for the day. Sam and Alicia scrambled into the back seat of the truck.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Uncle Luc. Guess what?” Alicia asked. “Tomorrow I’m going to be as old as Prayer Boy.”

Luc shook his head. He had less luck with children’s riddles than adult ones. “What are you talking about?”

“Sam. Remember? His name means answer to a prayer. I’m captivating and you’re a bright light.”

Bright light. Luz Brilhante. The investment company Morris had found for him. Apparently Rita had discovered something since her marriage. What did it have to do with Cheyanne?

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Put your seatbelts on.” He turned to make sure they followed orders. “What do you say we go up to the factory? You can see where I work.”

“Alicia too?” Sam asked.

“Sure. Just call your mom and tell her.” He passed the cell phone to his niece in the back seat and started the engine.

He returned to the building just as most of the office staff left for the weekend. After a quick tour of the building, he parked the two kids in front of a DVD player in Miguel’s office. He let them sort out the movie choice while he went next door to his computer terminal.

He had never been a huge fan of the Internet and consequently, his skills at navigating were limited. Relying on one familiar site—Google—he began what seemed like the biggest runaround since the Boston Marathon. Luz Brilhante did not have a website. Had he really thought it would be that easy? Articles of Incorporation were a matter of public record, so somewhere in this friggin’ machine he’d find the answer to his question.

Thirty minutes and fifty search words later he came upon the site he needed. By now, he’d figured nothing could shock him. To discover Morris Green was the treasurer came as no surprise. He had signed the checks for the company. The only stockholder, well...Luc almost fell off his chair. Sam. Of course, as a minor, his shares were held in trust with the CEO, Cheyanne.

As Luc stared at the screen, he didn’t know what to think. What to feel. Guilt assaulted him. How had she known they would go to Morris after several other banks turned them down?

Because it had been her idea. That last night, when they met at the cabin, she tried to give him the money. When he refused, she suggested going to Morris because he was the one man in town with no ties to Harlan. Luc hadn’t listened because his pride deafened him to her pleas. Several months later, when he finally did approach Morris, Luc believed it was his idea.

Was it coincidence or design that she returned right after he paid off the loan? He would bet on the latter. She must have loved him more than he ever imagined. Certainly more than he deserved. Even after he lied and told her he didn’t care about her, she had gone to elaborate measures to make sure he got his money. He had abused her unconditional love for him and still she defended him to their son.

What should he do now?

When Sam came into the office he knew he had to start with his son.

“Where’s your cousin?” Luc asked.

“The movie was boring. She fell asleep. Should I wake her?”

“In a few minutes. I want to talk to you first.” He pulled Sam onto the leather chair with him.

Being a normal, curious kid, Sam studied the desktop items, finding a particular fascination with an etched glass paperweight. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked without taking his focus off the glittering object.