The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (77 page)

The small beep indicating the microphone at the driver’s seat turning on sounded off.

“Pardon, Mrs. Maxfield, but might I inquire as to where your next destination is?” Gilles’s extremely formal, stiff-sounding baritone which he liked to use when he was in full chauffeur-mode, came through the speakers in the backseat. 

I turned off the mute button that was automatically activated when the privacy panel was raised and spoke, my eyes seeking Layla who quickly looked away. “Not sure yet, G. Why don’t we do a nice, leisurely loop around downtown for now and I’ll let you know where we’re headed to next. I promise it’ll be one round. I know what a tree-hugger you are.”

“Will do, Mrs. Maxfield,” was Gilles’s unflappable reply. “Thank you.”

I pressed the mute button again and faced Layla. 

She was now looking at me with a sardonic expression—which was a bit of a relief. While that look typically foretold a criticism or a set-down about to be cast my way, it was least indicative that Layla was pulling herself together.

Despite her half-hearted denials, she was nowhere near being completely alright, but at least she wasn’t breaking down anymore.

“How does your staff take you seriously when you don’t act like their better?” she asked with a raised brow. 

I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe by first doing away with the whole better-lesser labels. I call the shots when necessary but I like my staff and I’m pretty sure they like me. We mutually look after each other and we occasionally share a joke or two.”

Layla just looked at me for a second before shaking her head in what seemed to be resignation. “You’re unconventional.”

My lips quirked. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you put it nicely.”

I caught the slight twitch of Layla’s mouth as if she were about to smile but she straightened back in her seat instead, inhaling deeply. “You can drop me off back home, Charlotte. I’ll be fine.”

I shook my head slowly. “You know, over two years ago, I had a fractured cheekbone, a bruised spleen and a face that resembled a rotting avocado. It wasn’t until I saw myself in the mirror that I decided I really wasn’t fine.”

“Someone hurt you?” Layla asked softly, her eyes darting all over my face as if she could still find traces of my abusive past. “Who was it? A jerk boyfriend?”

“It was my father,” I told her without pause. “He started drinking ever since my Mom walked out on us when I was six. He never stopped.”

Layla lowered her gaze and spoke in a near whisper. “Don doesn’t do it all the time. Only when I make him angry. He went out of town and I thought I could take Riley out for a nice brunch today. I gave the staff the day off and brought Riley home so we could hang out for a little bit but Don came home early. He was angry at me for disobeying him.”

“We can defend him a thousand ways but could you really trust your welfare to a man who beats you broken and bloody because he can’t control his temper? Because he can’t hold his drink?” I asked her fiercely. “I don’t call it a tantrum, Layla. I don’t even call it a lapse of judgement. I call it abuse.”

“Well, we know how bold you are in calling everything as you see it,” she muttered bitterly. “Some of us... some of us can’t be that candid.”

“I wasn’t candid at all,” I told her with a pained smile. “I couldn’t tell anyone. I just decided to leave because while I couldn’t say it out loud, I could at least walk away.”

Tears started to sting my eyes at the bits of memories that started to dot the surface of my mind again but I quickly blinked them back, focusing my attention on the woman in front of me. “No one needs you to make a big proclamation, Layla. You don’t have to declare war or beat down anybody’s door. We can’t all be soldiers but we can all be survivors. You just have to get yourself away. That’s all.”

Her lower lip quivering, Layla bent her head down as she took a deep, shaky breath. “Riley needs me, right? He needs me to be strong for him. For us. For once.”

I reached forward and lightly squeezed her hand. She didn’t pull away. “You have no idea how much it will mean to him—to have someone fight their demons for his sake because he’s too young to be left on his own.”

Nodding briskly, Layla lifted her head, sniffling but shoring up her courage as she squared her shoulders. “You’re right. I couldn’t fight for him then. I can fight for him now.”

I smiled. “And as for finding them a better place to stay, I have an idea. My father left behind a house. Well, he left the house and a whole lot of debt that went against it. I managed to save it though. It’s nothing grand—just a small, two-bedroom Colonial with white siding, a cute little front porch and a small garden out front. It’s in a quiet, friendly area in West Roxbury. No one’s been living in it since I moved in with Brandon but we’ve hired a housekeeper to come in once a week and maintain it. Riley and Danny can move there. Maybe a new place can give them a clean slate.”

Layla watched me warily, her mouth half-open, her eyes blinking slowly as if she had trouble focusing. “And what’s in it for you?”

I tilted my head and gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“Clearly, after all this... this heart-to-heart talk, you’ll want something in exchange,” she explained with a slight roll of her eyes. “I mean, you’ve already got half the chairmanship in the Society. I can make my support known, if you like. I don’t know, it’s up to you.”

My brows knitted together as I struggled not to smile in amusement. “I don’t really require payback, if that’s what you’re getting at, Layla.”

She gave me a disbelieving look. “Right.”

I gave a little shrug. “You’ve already trusted me enough to tell me your secret. Trust me a little more when I say that I just want to help.”

She still didn’t look convinced but she didn’t offer any protest.

“Why did you trust me with it anyway?” I asked, curious all of a sudden.

Until about an hour and a half ago, Layla and I were still technically at war. We had a temporary ceasefire, but still at war with each other, nonetheless.

Layla took her time answering—she probably couldn’t figure it out herself at first. 

Hell. I couldn’t think of any reason why she would trust her dirty little secret with me, of all people.

“I think... despite the opinion I’ve expressed about you,” she started slowly, squinting a little as if the answers hovered in the distant horizon. “You’re not going to turn around and use this against me. You had plenty of chances before to throw me under the bus—and you didn’t.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “What would have I proven to any of you if I just went and did exactly what you did to me? That would contradict my philosophy.”

Layla’s brows rose questioningly. “And what philosophy is that?”

“Never become your worst enemy,” I answered with a grin and a wiggle of my brows. “That’ll be me doing you a favor, and proving to everyone that to get ahead, I had to cross the line.”

I could tell Layla was fighting a reluctant smile. “When you’re not always hovering over the gray, it’s easy to see the black and white of things. I get it.”

“Oh, trust me. I have my moments blurred right over the lines,” I told her cheekily before taking on a more serious tone. “But more than anything, I want to help because I’ve been there, and it’s a place I wouldn’t want to find anyone alone in, even my worst enemy.”

Layla gave me an arch look, reminding me that even though she was broken, she was still a social blue blood who knew it too well. “And why trust your worst enemy to keep her mouth shut about your dark, bitter past?”

I snorted. “I may be wrong but I think you’ve got bigger monsters to fight, Layla. I think you’re smart and practical enough to know not waste your energy on me.”

“Am I supposed to feel better because you think I’m pragmatic rather than pitiful?” Layla asked wryly.

“No. You should feel better because you’re quite formidable when you want something,” I told her with a grin. “You just have to channel all that cunning and confidence to the right cause—your freedom.”

Because villains can become heroes too, when they fight for the right thing.

“I’ll do what I should’ve done long ago,” Layla said, her voice firm with resolve. “I will make things right with Riley. But it has to be on my own terms. I want to minimize the damage as much as I can.”

Her eyes sought mine with an expression I never thought I’d see from Layla LeClaire—pleading. 

“Anyone with eyes can see how devoted you and Brandon are to each other,” she said with a haunted smile. “But I need you to promise that you will not tell him about this.”

I worried my lower lip I struggled with the conflict Layla’s beseeching put me in. “Brandon can help, you know? He will offer his protection and support without hesitation.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want him involved,” Layla replied. “He’s a decent man who would do the right thing. But Don doesn’t exactly play fair most of the time. He’s going to red-circle everyone who’s helped me in his book and I want that list to be very short, Charlotte. I’ve already caused enough people misery.”

I couldn’t help a crooked smile. “Alas, Layla LeClaire shows her infamously elusive conscience.”

Layla smiled back. “It’s been long burdened with so much of my own guilt, I’d decided not to take it with me everywhere I go. It’s heavy.”

We burst out laughing.

“I promise I won’t tell a soul,” I told her with grave seriousness once our laughter faded.

What happened that day between Layla and I was not quite a truce. 

It was even better.

It was an alliance.

After I dropped off Layla at her house that day, I didn’t hear much from her for the rest of the week.

She took herself off somewhere and just called into the TV interview after telling the station that she had some family emergency to attend to.

Layla had a big, ugly mark on her face. She couldn’t show up without having to explain a lot of things, and despite of the resolve she’d shown that day, she was probably not ready to confess to the world that she’d married a brute.

While in hiding though, she emailed in a lot of instructions for the Championettes so we could all stay on track with the fundraiser preparations. 

The fact that none of the other members seemed fazed about it bothered me. 

I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time that Layla literally didn’t show her face for a while because they seemed used to it. 

The realization only angered me more.

I was very angry at Don, and I was a little angry at Layla because I thought after the conversation we had in the car, she would start doing something.

Because I didn’t think she’d just lie there and let herself bleed to death. I thought she’d be pissed off enough to get herself back up on her feet and start fighting back. 

I’d talked to Brandon about temporarily offering my house to a family friend and his teenage charge. I didn’t get to discuss details with Layla that day so I didn’t know exactly what to tell Brandon except for a vague explanation that someone I knew was in need of a place to stay.

All he’d asked me was if there was anything he could do, and all I’d told him was that this was more than enough for now. It had to be because it was more than a week later and Layla was still MIA. 

I didn’t want to think about the possibility that something horrible had happened to her and Riley. I’d sent her an short email asking if she and the boy were alright and she’d replied with a very succinct ‘Yes’. 

I had a few choice words to respond with but I backed off. I might have already pushed her too far that day we talked in the car. If I pushed her any farther, she might completely shut out anyone who can help her get away from Don.

When the people you trusted let you down so many times, what’s to make you think the next person to come along wasn’t just getting in line to do the same? 

Preferring anything else to my grim contemplations, I kept myself busy with the Championettes’ upcoming Art Appreciation dinner this weekend. 

I’d become good at distraction. 

I didn’t want to think about Layla’s predicament or my own guilt which continued to keep me away from the people whose trust I’d violated.

When you’ve let down the people who trusted you, what’s to make you think they’re going to give you a second chance?

I kept myself so preoccupied that it didn’t occur to me that it was, out of the blue, my twentieth birthday. 

Brandon had surprised me in the morning with a thorough lovemaking followed by an elaborate breakfast in bed. 

He promised me a romantic evening before promptly leaving for the office.

I was a little bit disappointed that he wasn’t spending the entire day with me but then I quickly reminded myself that the man had big responsibilities. 

In his absence, I got a delivery of a few dozen flowers of an assorted variety, a few boxes of the fanciest chocolates in the world money could buy, and a jaw-dropping set of sparkling diamond jewelry.

Compared to the last few birthdays I could remember in recent years, when I’d spent the special occasion either bussing tables or dining on a stale granola bar in an all-too-quiet kitchen, today was kicking ass so far.

I’d spent the early afternoon reading and responding to several happy birthday emails from old friends, prepping up for my evening with Brandon, showering, doing my hair, my nails, and gobbling up some chocolate here and there as I tried on several dresses for tonight’s fancy dinner.

“Look at you,” I told myself as I stood in front of the mirror in a bright aquamarine jersey dress that looked elegantly sexy but offered warmth and pop of cheerful color in the dull gray and slight chill of the fall season. Paired up with black ankle booties, it looked sophisticated but edgy. “Who would ever thought you’d be twenty and standing on top of the world?”

While I certainly never imagined anything like this, I assumed that being up here would feel... a little less lonely.

My smile faded as I turned away from the mirror and walked to a chaise lounge by the huge glass window. 

I had a fortune, the best and most expensive dresses and trinkets money could buy, a fortress in the sky and a prince of a husband.

I wonder if I’ll ever stop feeling like an impostor. The lie that put the pauper in the princess’s tower is the same lie that locked her away from everyone else.

I missed my family and friends. 

As cheesy as it sounded, I would trade the material riches of my kingdom for a chance at reclaiming the trust of those who knew I came from the scullery yet treated me like I deserved a place under the sun.

Just like in any fairy tale, what good was a palace with no family and friends to fill the halls with conversation and laughter? The echo of my own voice was no company. It only served to remind me of the price I paid for one lie that gave me everything yet cost me everyone I cared about.

Yes, I had Brandon, but the evidence of his love was also evidence of what he’d given up for me. He’d reassured me that he could come to terms with the wedge I’d driven between him and his family, but could I?

I hated the guilt but worse, I hated sharing it with someone who didn’t deserve it.

How can someone be so happy yet be so sad at the same time? And how long will it be before one outweighed the other?

It was an ironic day to feel maudlin but that was precisely how I was feeling the moment my cellphone blared with a rudely cheerful ringtone.

I stared at the screen with a frown.

It was Jake.

My stomach churned as I recalled the variety of expressions on his face that day he stood witness to mine and Brandon’s confession. 

He was one of the first people to look at me and decide I was worthy. How do I face him after proving to him how wrong he was?

I debated for another moment while the phone continued to ring in my hand.

I’m unworthy of his trust but he’s worthy of mine. Trust that he’s the good man you know him to be.

“Hello?”

“Charlotte! Thank God you answered,” he said in a rush. I couldn’t detect a hint of anger or contempt in his tone. “I need your help. Tessa keeps evading me and I’m hanging on to my sanity by a thread. Today, I learned she’s gone out on a couple of dates with this guy from her Socio class. How can she go out with someone when everything between us is still unresolved?”

It was terrible to smile in context of Jake’s dilemma but I was so vastly relieved that he was talking to me like nothing awful had happened—you know, him finding out that my marriage to his best friend started out as a million-dollar sham and all that.

I opened my mouth to speak but he kept going. “Are you busy? Please tell me you’re not busy. I need some good advice—hell, any advice would be better than the one I’m giving myself right now, which is to hunt down this guy and toss him out of town on his ass. Anyway, can you meet me for coffee? If you’re home, I can pick you up in ten minutes.”

I was so startled and stunned with relief that all I managed was, “Um, sure.”

I shrugged on a black leather biker jacket and slung a small, cranberry-red leather bag over my shoulder before heading out.

I paused about the dress, thinking I was supposed to wear it to dinner later but I didn’t really have time to change, now or later. It was pretty late for an afternoon coffee but Brandon could just pick me up at wherever Jake and I ended up at. 

Jake was leaning against his car as he waited by the front steps of the building. 

Dressed down in jeans and a light green sweater, he looked every bit as dashing as I remembered. The fact that he had a big, warm smile on his face, his eyes lighting up as he looked up and saw me, tugged at my heart.

“Hello, sunshine,” he greeted gently as he wrapped me up in a bear hug. “It’s been ages since I last saw you.”

“I know,” I said on a slight choke of tears as we pulled away. I implored at him with a look. “The last time you saw me, I was... I...”

The right words were evading me so I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. “I lied, Jake. I lied to you and everyone else from the very beginning. I expected you to hate me.”

Jake’s brows scrunched up together. “Hate you? Why would I be so silly to do something like that?”

ecause it was all an act!” I sputtered. “You talked about those women who see Brandon as a walking dollar sign. I was one of those women!”

Jake eyed me thoughtfully. 

For all my blustering, he seemed surprisingly calm and even mildly amused. “I’ve gotten to know you well over the past few months, Charlotte. Even if you slap me on the head with a contract, I know that no amount of money could’ve ever motivated you to give as convincing a performance as you did in being in love with my best friend. While I think that Martin is a sly, old man, you and Brandon owe him a favor. I owe him a favor.”

My brows went up. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Jake said with a lazy grin and a shrug. “Because he threw you and Brandon together, I met you. You’re one of the best people I know, Char. Whatever the circumstances were that brought you to us is not important. Brandon didn’t pay you to be there for a lot of us—to put yourself at risk for the sake of the others, to cheer us up when we’re feeling like crap, to kick our ass when we’re not being the better person we could be. You did all of that on your own.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until Jake held out a folded handkerchief and pressed it on my damp cheeks.

“That was one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me,” I said with a half-smile, half-sob as I took the handkerchief and dabbed my face dry. “I was afraid that I’d lost all of you when I made that confession. I would’ve understood but it would’ve sucked so bad.”

Jake laughed and pressed a kiss on the crown of my head. “Sorry, Char. There’s no way you can be rid of us now.”

I giggled even as I blinked back the rest of my tears, the heavy weight that had been residing in my heart for a while now loosening up and slowly lifting away. “Now, I don’t know whether I should be worried or relieved.”

Jake straightened away from his car and held the passenger door open for me. “You can decide on that after you spend a couple of hours with my sorry company. I did tell you I need some advice, didn’t I?”

I rolled my eyes. “For a ladies’ man, you surely need a lot of help winning one girl’s heart.”

“That’s because I’m trying to be just one lady’s man now and I’m not very experienced at it,” he said indignantly. “Now, get inside before you change your mind about keeping me company.”

I couldn’t stop grinning. 

It was nice to banter with Jake again, to have a chance to be there for him like he’d let me before my big bad secret came out.

“Where are we going anyway?” I asked him as he slid behind the wheel. “You’re the one with the problematic heart. You get to choose.”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “You know, just because you’re still feeling guilty about your whole marriage secret with Brandon, doesn’t mean you have to indulge my every whim. I’ll still let you kick my ass if I’m being an idiot about something. Don’t hold back on my account.”

I laughed even though my cheeks burned slightly at the truth of his words. “I’m not so sure that was a good idea on your part to give me carte blanche. But don’t worry, when you’ve done something that deserves some ass-kicking, you’ll know it.”

Jake just laughed as he pulled out into traffic. “Since you were feeling kind of sentimental earlier, how about we go somewhere that will help me get to know the old Charlotte a little bit better before she got swept away into the glitzy, if not sometimes overrated world of the Maxfields?”

I smiled. “What do you have in mind?”

“I know you used to work at Marlow’s,” he said with a little more seriousness. “Brandon and I never really went there but I know that’s where you met his old man. Is their food good?”

“If you like a little bit of grease on everything,” I said with a laugh, inwardly pleased that Jake would ever suggest Marlow’s. It wasn’t his cup of tea but it was something that would always be a part of me. The gesture felt like a symbol of his acceptance. “But the coffee is pretty decent.”

“Sold! Marlow’s it is.”

It took no time to get there.

I haven’t been to Marlow’s in a while and the fact that I was a little over-dressed only added to my nervousness. It was ridiculous for me to be nervous, of course, but since that big confession I’d made in front of the Maxfield family and their circle of friends, I’d been feeling a bit vulnerable.

I didn’t really know how much damage the truth had done.

At Jake’s reassuring smile, I forced myself to buck up and be a big girl.