Star Promise (34 page)

I grabbed my bag. “I’ll go and see her now,” I offered. “I’m sure it just slipped her mind.”

I must’ve sounded believable; otherwise he would’ve held me down and forced me to write a cheque before leaving. As easy-going as Bronson was, he didn’t play around when money was involved.

I spent the cab ride plotting my speech in my head. I’d simply imply that the thirty thousand dollar bill slipped her mind – and then try not to cringe as I said it.

I had no idea how it would play out, but I knew Olivia well enough to know that she wasn’t going to apologise and cut me a cheque. What I wasn’t expecting was a warm welcome at the door.

It wasn’t my first rodeo when it came to deflecting disingenuous displays of affection. Fiona Décarie used to be the worst offender when it came to lacklustre hugs and cheek kisses that barely connected – and it never felt anywhere near as awkward as the hug Olivia gave me. My arms remained firmly at my sides as she wrapped me in her embrace. “I’ve missed you terribly in the last couple of weeks.” The claim was as phony as her hug. “I’ve just been so busy. Bridget has been keeping me in the loop, though. She’s quite the little chatterbox at ballet.”

Ordinarily, a loaded statement like that would’ve rattled me, but I was determined to stay on task. “I understand you’ve been busy.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the invoice. “I’m sure this slipped your mind, but it’s past due. Bronson asked me to follow up on it.”

Olivia took a step back, refusing to take the paper from me. “I’m mildly offended, Charli.”

My heart began thudding at an alarming rate. Her words were innocuous, but they usually were before things took a turn for the nasty. I looked past her, glancing at the expensive piece of art taking pride of place above the reception desk. It was too big to grab and make a run for it. I was going to have to stay and duke it out.

“I don’t want you to be offended,” I said quietly. “I’d just like you to write me a cheque.” I could barely look at her, but Olivia had no problem staring me down. “Then I’ll let you get back to work. I can see you’re busy.”

I looked from left to right, emphasizing the fact that the place was completely void of anyone else besides us. It was a sly dig that rivalled hers. Perhaps it was finally a hint of proof that we truly were related.

Olivia walked to the reception desk, leaving me hanging with the invoice in my hand. “Perhaps you could cover it for me,” she suggested. “Just for a few weeks.”

Not so long ago, I would’ve done it. In the beginning I’d wanted her to like me, just as I’d tried desperately hard to like her. Those days were gone. She was never going to like me – no matter what I did for her.

“No, I don’t think so.” I didn’t even sound regretful, and felt proud because of it. I waved the invoice at her. “I need this settled today.”

Olivia sat down at her desk. “Well, that’s probably not going to happen, and frankly, Charli, I’m surprised that you’re taking it this far.”

“It’s a thirty thousand dollar painting,” I brusquely reminded her. “The only reason Bronson let you walk out with it was –”

“Because you’re my daughter,” she interrupted. “I expected that to mean something to you.”

As far as displays of fakery went, that was her grandest. For the first time ever, I called her out on it. “What does it mean to you, Olivia?” I edged closer to her desk. “Because to be honest, I’m not exactly feeling the connection.”

Her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. It was the total opposite of how I was feeling. My chest was so tight it ached.

“The connection between a mother and daughter is more delicate than you think,” she said quietly. “It’s not always strong, Charli.”

I wasn’t buying her sad expression. She was talking in riddles, and it scared me.

“I have to get back to work.” I dropped the invoice down on her desk. “Please take care of this by the end of the day.”

If she said anything else, I didn’t hear her. I hightailed it out the door as if I was being chased.

Between ballet lessons and flower girl duties, Bridget’s schedule was as busy as ours. Thanks to a last-minute dress fitting, she wasn’t due home for dinner. The night was ours and we made the most of it by dining out.

The Blue Lark wasn’t exactly upmarket but it had no children’s menu, so to us it was haute cuisine. We found a booth in the corner, opting for privacy over a window view. Our decision to sit side by side wasn’t exactly upmarket either, but without the distraction of our little person, I made the most of being able to sit next to Charli without interruption.

“It’s odd without, Bridget isn’t it?” she asked.

I put a hand on her thigh and reached for a menu with the other. “We can make it seem like she’s here,” I offered.

“How?”

I glanced at her, grinning. “Well, you can cut my food into small pieces, hand me a napkin every two minutes and keep reminding me that my fork is not a sword.”

Charli lifted her menu to hide her giggle. “And you can ask me to take you to the bathroom the second our food arrives.”

“She does do that.”

“Every single time,” she agreed. She put her hand on mine. “I’m actually glad it’s just us tonight,” she said quietly. “I need to talk to you about something.”

I dropped the menu and angled toward her. “Are you pregnant?”

She managed to smile and cringe simultaneously. It made for an odd expression, but she still looked beautiful. “No.”

“Well that’s a relief.” I reached into my pocket and grabbed the small box I’d been hiding from her. “Because that would totally kill the sentiment behind my present.”

Her puzzled frown melted the instant she spied the box in my hand.

“Open it,” I urged.

My eyes never left her face as she lifted the lid, searching for the look of wonderment that inevitably set in whenever magic took hold. She dangled the pink heart-shaped stone in the air by the chain. “Rose quartz,” she mumbled, seemingly deep in thought.

If my wife had been the kind of woman who was dazzled by diamond rings and bouquets of flowers, life would’ve been much simpler. But she wasn’t, which was partly why I adored her. Charli’s tastes were much less ostentatious, but harder to cater to. I’d spent an hour in a new-age jewellery store that morning, listening to a bohemian woman named Azure rattle off the meaning of the rocks on display in her showcase.

Charlotte didn’t exactly seem enamoured by the piece I’d chosen. It made me wonder if Azure’s knowledge of gemmology was as sketchy as the gypsy headscarf she wore. “Do you know what it signifies, Coccinelle?” It was a stupid question but the only other one that came to mind involved asking if she liked it – and at that moment I was almost certain she didn’t.

“It’s a stone of the heart,” she quietly replied. “It promotes self-nurturing, tending and reassurance if the wearer has lost their mother.” She held the stone to her heart and looked straight at me. “It denotes empathy and sensitivity, and aids in the acceptance of change.”

I’d inadvertently gifted her the most inappropriate present on the planet. At a time when Charlotte was gearing up to cut her mother loose, I’d given her a rock to help her get over it. When I made a grab for the necklace, she moved it out of reach. “Charlotte, please.” I held out my hand. “Just give it back and I’ll exchange it tomorrow.”

“Not so fast, Boy Wonder,” she replied. “Tell me your version.”

“It’s not my version,” I grumbled. “I don’t know rose quartz from a lump of marble. Azure, the hippie from a new-age store in the West Village told me it’s supposed to aid in fertility. Clearly she has no idea.” Left hanging with my arm outstretched, I wiggled my fingers. “Give it back.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Please give it back,” I repeated. “If you want, we’ll go back to the store and throw it through the front window.”

Charli laughed, which lessened my chagrin. “Some say it does boost fertility,” she explained. “So Azure isn’t a fraud.”

“Truly?”

“Yes,” she confirmed with a slight nod. “Others gems do too. Moonstone, black coral, pearls, red carnelian, turquoise –”

I didn’t let her finish. I pressed my lips against hers, overtaken by nothing more complex than the feeling of pure enchantment. I was madly in love with a girl who could forget to pick up the dry-cleaning for three days on the run, but could recite the names of a hundred obscure gemstones on demand.

Charli finally broke away, which wasn’t kind to either of us. “What was that for?” she asked.

“Because you know all the lovely words.”

Charli turned her back. “Can you help me put it on, please?”

“Tell me what it means to you first.”

I had to know which option she was running with. If it was the nurturing mother replacement I’d ask her to hang her keys on it and keep in her purse.

“I don’t need help with fertility,” she replied. “We’re good at making babies when the time is right. It’s only been three months, Adam.”

“So it’s a proxy hug from your loving mom?” I wiggled my eyebrows as I said it, leaving no doubt that I was joking.

“No.” She laughed, but it was slightly off. “Remember, I said it denotes empathy and the acceptance of change. I think I’m going to need a big dose of that soon.”

“Why, Charli?” She passed me the necklace. “What’s happened?”

Her explanation wasn’t short, but nor was the task of securing the necklace. I just managed to fix the clasp as she finished the tale of how Olivia had made off with a painting from Bronson’s gallery without paying for it.

“Bronson sent me over to the studio this morning to chase it up.” She turned back to face me. “I told her she had to come in and make payment by the end of the day.”

I swept her hair off her shoulder. “And did she?”

Charli shook her head. “She doesn’t have thirty grand, Adam. I don’t think she has thirty cents.”

Charli didn’t know half of what I did. All she had to go on was suspicion. I had a folder in the drawer of my desk full of cold hard proof that the woman was a stone-broke fraud, but I would’ve felt no joy in enlightening her.

I studied her worried face carefully, quickly deciding that the universe had probably put an indefinite hold on our baby plans until we could get our act together. Charli was stressed to the point of snapping, and none it was her fault.

“Just pay it,” I told her. “Write Bronson a cheque tomorrow.”

“It’s a lot of money,” she mumbled.

“It is, but not to us, okay?” I kissed the back of her hand. “You work for Bronson. You can’t have your mother indebted to him.”

“So Olivia wins,” she said sourly. “You wouldn’t pay her off but she got your money anyway.”

“She hasn’t won anything, Charlotte,” I explained. “I’m an attorney. One way or the other, I’m going to ruin her.”

My father was usually unflappable, so when he stormed into my office early that morning, I knew something big was going down.

“The Dixon deal is falling apart.” He’d made it sound like the sky was falling. “And if that happens, it’s six months of work and countless millions down the drain.”

It might’ve been his million-dollar fee at stake, but it was six months of my hard work that would all be for nothing if the deal collapsed. Strangely, I cared about that. “What is the problem, exactly?” I asked. “I had it all tied up as of last Wednesday. All they had to do was sign off on it.”

Dad’s frown intensified. “I’ve called a meeting. Cancel everything else,” he ordered. “It’s likely to take the rest of the day.”

Corporate law is all about the meeting of minds. It was frustrating when we couldn’t make it happen, but for it to happen on this day was nothing short of maddening. It was the day of Bridget’s concert, which meant my troubles weren’t limited to the collapse of a company merger. I had to decide which to deal with, and the seconds I spent doing it were long enough to rouse the suspicion of my father.

“Whatever else you have planned for today needs to come second.” He lowered his tone, sounding more like my pissed off dad than my boss. “For once, Adam, make your job the priority.”

Either way someone was going to be let down, and in a very rare moment of duty, I decided that it wouldn’t be him. There was no reason why Charli couldn’t take Bridget to the concert, but only I could deal with the problem my father was facing.

“I’ll be at the meeting, Dad,” I assured him.

His demeanour changed and he dropped his grip on the door handle. “Excellent,” he replied. “Thank you.”

I’d become so unreliable lately that he’d come into my office expecting me to let him down. It didn’t feel good. Another thing that didn’t feel good was calling Charli and explaining what had happened.

“It’s no problem,” she assured. “We’ll handle it.”

“Film it for me?” I asked. “I’ll watch it with Bridget and make a big deal of it when I get home.”

I really didn’t need to see it. I’d been to so many practice sessions over the last few weeks that I knew the routine by heart, but I was going to pretend I didn’t.

“Of course,” she replied. “No worries.”

I had plenty of worries about how that day was going to pan out; I just didn’t want to tell her that. “Break a leg, Charlotte.”

“Better than breaking hearts, right?” she quipped.

“Definitely,” I replied. “No broken hearts today, please.”

It wasn’t her promise to make. It was all going to come down to the hateful ballerina and how twisted her play of the day was going to be.

I didn’t want to tell Charli that either.

To say that Bridget was disappointed that I was chaperoning her to the concert was an understatement. The kid lost the plot.

“My dad has to go,” she demanded with a stamp of her foot. “You can’t.”

My feelings were hurt, but the last thing I wanted to do was let it show. I wasn’t used to diva-like behaviour from Bridget, and I had no idea how to handle her.

“Daddy has to work,” I explained, trying to keep my cool. “Either I take you or you don’t go. Those are your choices.”

Her crystalline eyes bored into me. “You’ll appoint me,” she complained after a long moment of deliberation. “And I’ll be sad.”