The Confession (7 page)

Her eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus before she smiled and adjusted herself back onto her stool. “You have to stop kissing me like that.” She took a sip of her drink. “It makes me lose track of where I am.”

“Do you know which man bumped your seat? I’d like to buy him a drink.”

She laughed before turning around to check on Luther.

“I know you two worked together at Saks, but that’s really all I know. Are you roommates? How long have you been friends?” he asked, realizing he really wanted to know, not for any other reason than to know her.

“We’re not roommates. I live alone, and prefer it that way, but Luther only lives about a mile away from my loft. I don’t know what it is about him, but we’ve been friends since the first day we met.” She sipped her wine and ran her fingers along the stem of her glass. “I was a little out of my element in the big city, having just left North Carolina. He still teases me about the way I dressed back then. I think his first words to me were, ‘It’s obvious you’re not from around here, but it’s a shame that you don’t have a friend or a mirror.’”

“You became immediate friends after a statement like that?”

She nodded her head. “I appreciated his honesty, and he made me laugh, even if it was at my own expense.”

“He must have been upset about your decision to move to San Francisco.”

“He understands.”

Her short answer made it clear that the reasons she’d moved wasn’t open for discussion tonight.

“How did the call to your mother go?”

“I spoke to Joan. It was as expected. She gave me a guilt trip for being here and not there. She played the martyr card, even though I’ve seen through her for years, and went on and on about being the sole caregiver.”

“Have you thought about bringing in a nurse?”

“I’ve hired more than one. They don’t last a day before they’re fired. Joan learned the martyr role from mother, and a nurse takes away some of her leverage.” She sighed and took a sip of her wine. “I kept the call short, or at least as short as I could. I just didn’t have the energy for it. That sounds so selfish when I say it out loud.”

“Have you always had a rocky relationship with them?”

“Sadly, yes. I’ve never really understood it. My mother is so critical of me, I could become president or win a Nobel Prize and she would still criticize. Joan, well, Joan is just Joan. She hasn’t been happy a day in her life. I don’t think she knows how to be. She’s just one of those ‘glass is always half empty’ type personalities.”

“What about your dad? Was he critical of you as well?”

Her eyes grew bright. “Just the opposite, I couldn’t do anything wrong as far as he was concerned. You’ve heard the term Daddy’s Little Princess? That was me.”

“I can see that being the case. I think I could easily be controlled by a three year old in a pink tutu.”

“He was so amazing. I miss him every day. Just talking to him, you know?”

Mark nodded his head in understanding, and let her talk. He loved the sound of her voice, the way it rose when she was about to laugh and the way it purred when she reminisced. Sitting here with her, he found it easy to forget he had a file on her from a private investigator, tucked into the inside pocket of his coat.

Uncrossing her legs, she turned closer to him on the stool. “So tell me about your father. I’ve heard incredible things about your mother from Emily, but I don’t think I’ve heard him mentioned.”

His smile faded. “He’s not a part of my life. He never was, and he never will be.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s been a long time, but it still pisses me off when I think of him.”

She looked down at her hands lying in her lap. A sign he’d come to learn meant she was uncomfortable. She looked up, searching his face intently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not much to talk about. He was a leech, a gold digger, the worst kind of man. Hell, I wouldn’t even call him a man. He played with my mother’s heart and affections, married her, got her pregnant, and then threatened to take me away if she didn’t pay him a large sum of money. It was all a game to him. He got what he wanted, and he went away, but my mother never fully recovered.”

“Oh Mark, I’m so sorry.”

“Like I said, it was a long time ago. I haven’t seen or heard from him since. That, however, is a good thing. For his sake, I pray it stays that way.”

She reached over and laid her hand over his. They sat silently, each of them lost in their own thoughts until Luther came to find her.

Mark watched her leave, wondering why he’d shared such a personal part of his life with her, and why he felt a sense of relief that he had.

Sitting at her desk, Aimee attempted to concentrate on updating the week’s schedule but her mind kept returning to the night before. She could still feel Mark’s lips on hers, feel the warmth of his hand beneath her own, and see the pain in his eyes when he talked about his father’s betrayal. It felt like one more piece of the puzzle fell into place last night. Mark had been through so much. He’d been deceived and had also witnessed his mother and Emily being betrayed by people they loved. It was no wonder he felt the need to protect these women, and himself, from people who would harm them.

She wished he didn’t feel she were one of those people. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Emily or him, but if she were being honest with herself, she already had.

The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. “Emily Sinclair’s office.”

“This is Janet Lewis, with the Lewis Employment Agency. Is Ms. Sinclair available?”

“I’m sorry, she isn’t in the office yet this morning. Can I take a message for her?”

“I wanted to apologize to her personally for our candidate missing her appointment. I would have called sooner, but I only recently learned that she had an emergency and hadn’t made her interview. Along with our sincerest apology, I wanted to offer our services if she were still in need of an assistant.”

Aimee’s fingers froze, the pen hovering over the pink pad as the message she was writing began to sink in. This was the agency Emily thought sent her to interview for the job.

Feeling appalled with herself, but knowing she had no other choice, she slipped the message slowly through the paper shredder. “Ms. Sinclair is no longer in need of an assistant, but I will pass on your message. Thank you very much for the call.”

She’d just hung up the phone when Emily walked into the office. She looked beautiful in a pair of charcoal gray slacks and a pink silk blouse. Her blond hair was pulled elegantly back in a smooth pony tail at the base of her neck, and her ears were adorned with small clusters of pearls.

“So what’s on our schedule for today? Anything we can get out of?” Emily asked casually, sitting down on the corner of Aimee’s desk, her eyes mischievous.

“We should finalize the auction listing and get that sent over to Peter as soon as possible, but it doesn’t have to be today. You have a meeting with … ” She directed the mouse to roll down the calendar on the computer screen. “Preston Talbot at one.” She looked at Emily, wondering who Preston Talbot was, and what connection he had to Emily’s late husband.

“Call Preston and ask him if we can move lunch to later in the week. Grab your purse and meet me out front.” She drifted from the office without another word.

A few minutes later, Aimee was ushered into the back of a town car parked next to the fountain. Emily smiled when she scooted in next to her.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Aimee asked.

“I am going to introduce you to a good friend of mine.”

Sitting back against the leather seats, she looked skeptically at Emily. “But you’re not going to tell me who or why?”

“Sure I am, eventually,” Emily laughed, a rich warm sound that serenaded, and comforted, more than any sound Aimee had ever heard before.

The car pulled up outside a small building downtown that resembled a Greek temple. White pillars adorned the front step and double glass doors opened up to a spacious room with a wall of mirrors and free standing mannequins draped in elegant gowns. A thin, short, white haired man in a three-piece suit walked over to greet them.

“Emily, darling, you look fantastic as always.” He bent down and kissed her hand.

“Kevin, this is my assistant, Aimee. We’re going to need something jaw-dropping for her as well.”

Aimee was speechless as the world-famous designer, Kevin Johnson, walked over and took her hand, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “She’s beautiful. It will be an honor to dress her.”

Still incapable of speech, she looked over at Emily with wonder. She gulped and muttered, “Kevin Johnson?”

“Come in.” He waved his arm directing them to be seated on a soft brown leather sofa. An elegant woman wearing a white pantsuit, her neck adorned with long strands of pearls and gold chains, handed them each a crystal flute of champagne. “I think you’ll like what we’ve created for you, Emily, darling. You will be a vision.”

He clapped his hands together, and a tall, fair haired model glided through a wall of silk curtains. She wore a floor-length emerald gown, gathered at the left side of the waist with a square silver clasp. She posed, slowly turned a circle and floated back through the curtains. Model after model came into the showroom, each wearing a Kevin Johnson original. Some were short, most were long, all of them made with Emily in mind, in colors chosen to flatter her blond hair and porcelain skin.

When the last model had left, Emily chose her favorites to try on.

“Let’s see what you have for Aimee,” Emily said reaching over and gently squeezing her hand affectionately.

Aimee gasped, as the same fair haired models came through the wall of curtains. Each of them wore a different dress, this time chosen especially for her. It felt like a dream
.
She sat close to Emily, smiling appreciatively at the visions lined up before her.

“How do I possibly choose?” she asked breathlessly.

“Well, if you want my opinion, I think the long red dress with the slit would be fabulous on you, and you should try on the white wrap. Come on, let’s go play dress up.”

Emily’s excitement added to her own, as they both jumped from the couch like school girls, anxious to see the dresses on. They each took turns modeling in front of the wall of mirrors and each other.

In the end, Emily chose the emerald green gown, and Aimee, the long red dress. Both of them were glowing with pleasure as they placed their boxes into the trunk.

After another hour shopping for the perfect shoes, they slid into a booth at Emily’s favorite lunch spot. She was stopped everywhere they went, each person seeming to know her, and compelled to inform her of their guaranteed presence at the auction. She was gracious to each of them, sincerely thanking them for their support, and always introducing Aimee more as a friend than an employee.

They each ordered a salad, laughing at the fact that they would be eating a lot of them if they were still going to fit into their dresses by the date of the auction.

“I think it’s coming together superbly. I can’t thank you enough for all your hard work. I just kind of threw you to the wolves, and you handled it with ease,” Emily said, tipping her glass toward Aimee’s.

“It’s been a great experience so far. It’s for a wonderful cause.” She took a sip from her own glass. “Is it hard for you? I mean, you have to always keep him so close to do this sort of work.” She asked, wanting to know about Nathan Talbot, but treading lightly, unsure of her right to ask.

“You mean Nathan?” Realizing she did, Emily continued. “I do keep him close, but it’s not hard. He was unforgettable to me. If I can spare just one other person the pain of losing someone they love to this horrible disease, then every dollar, every hour, every step is worth it.”

“Does it get easier? The pain of losing him I mean?”

Emily shook her head, her eyes becoming distant as a single tear slowly rolled down her cheek.

• • •

“I can still remember the day we met … ” Her voice was barely a whisper as she transported herself back in time, thirty-two years.

It was the night of her debutante ball. Her white dress was cinched at her small waist and flowed to the ground like a bell. Her long blond hair was pulled up in a pearl comb that had been her grandmother’s. She felt like Scarlett O’Hara from
Gone with the Wind
, with her long gloves and hooped skirt, and her handsome escort, dressed in a white tuxedo, standing beside her. She was waiting in line to be ushered to her father for her time-honored introduction to society when she saw him. He was standing in line, just three girls ahead of her, on the arm of Sally May Covens. He’d taken her breath away.

Their eyes met and sparks flew. She’d known at that very moment that he would be hers.

After the girls were each presented, the music started and couples began to float onto the dance floor. She held onto the arm of her escort, but her eyes were scanning the room for him. When she spotted him, she realized he was also looking for her. They smiled, and her heart skipped a beat when he purposely led his date toward them on the floor. As they each took their positions for the upcoming waltz, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, asking her to escape to the terrace after the dance was finished. She nodded her head in acceptance and allowed herself to be whisked away by her partner, praying that the song would end quickly.

When the last note played, she gently curtsied to her partner and, excusing herself, quickly made her way to the terrace. As she walked through the doors she saw him leaning casually against the stone railing, a single pink rose in his gloved hand.

When he noticed her, he stood up tall and proud, his eyes seeming to take in every detail of her as she slowly floated toward him.

“This is for you,” he said, handing her the rose.

She attempted to thank him but couldn’t find the words to speak as she tenderly took the rose from his hand.

“I’m Nathan Talbot. And you would be?”

“I’m Emily. Emily Sinclair.” She could feel the fluttering of her heart as she looked up into his handsome face.