Golden Lies (18 page)

He frowned. "I hate for you to see your house that way, Grandma."

"I've already seen it, honey. It was a shock, I'll admit, but it is what it is, and not looking at it won't make it go away."

"I'll come back later and clean it up for you."

"Don't worry about that. It's nothing that can't wait. Maybe after we go to Union Street, Millie and I will drive out and see your grandfather. I want to ask him if he's been calling the house." Nan paused. "Thank you, Paige, for keeping me company. I'll pray for your father."

"I'd appreciate that," Paige said, getting to her feet.

"You take care of yourself, and don't let Riley boss you around too much."

"Don't worry. I'm used to bossy people," Paige said with a smile. She followed Riley out to the street. It bothered her to see the police car in front of Nan's house. She was a nice lady. She didn't deserve to have trouble like this.

Riley opened the door for her, closed it, then walked around the car to slide in behind the wheel. "Thanks for staying with my grandmother."

"It was no problem. Her house was in bad shape?"

"Ripped apart. Even her china was broken."

"It seems so pointless."

A lot of life is exactly that—pointless. Just crazy people doing crazy things."

She wondered if he was talking about someone in particular. "Is it possibly your mother is involved in this?"

He sent her a sharp look. "What did my grandmother tell you?"

"A little about your past. Doesn't it bother you— not knowing if your mother is even alive?"

His eyes turned a cold, dark blue. "None of it bothers me anymore. I turned that page a long time ago. And I'm not turning it back."

"But the emotions aren't gone—the disappointment, the bitterness, the hate, maybe even the love— they're still there, aren't they?"

"Save the psychobabble for your own shrink, princess. I don't need my head examined by a rich girl who has no idea of the way I've lived."

"And you have no idea of the way I've lived," she retorted.

"I have a pretty good idea. I've seen the family mansion. It must have been rough growing up with your own bedroom, your own housekeeper. Hell, you probably had one of those butlers, didn't you?"

"Stop baiting me, Riley. I'm not getting into a competition with you on who had it the hardest."

"Because you can't compete. You can't even get in the starting block. You grew up in a rose garden."

"I grew up in a cold, lonely house." She gazed out the window and drew in a breath. "My parents barely spoke, and my grandfather's anger and bitterness chilled every room."

"And he had so much to be bitter about, all that money weighing him down."

She turned her head to look at him, but he was staring at the traffic, his profile hard. He seemed almost unreachable. She told herself not to try, but the words wanted to come out. "My grandfather lost his wife and daughter in a car crash when my father was nine years old," she said quietly. "He never recovered from their deaths. He hired housekeepers and nannies to raise my father because he couldn't do it himself. He was too full of hate at the universe for what had happened to him. When my father got married and started a family of his own, my grandfather felt renewed hope that the house would once again be filled with laughter and happiness. When I was really small he used to smile more, he used to laugh. Then Elizabeth got sick and died, and that ended. The last bit of life went out of our house for everyone. The rooms were so quiet I could hear my own heart beating, my own breath going in and out of my chest. It was that still."

She stopped herself from going on, wishing she hadn't told him so much already. She was opening herself up to get hurt. And he could hurt her. She didn't know why his opinion mattered, but it did. Maybe it was because she was used to people liking her, trusting her, and Riley's attitude was difficult to understand. Maybe she really was a spoiled little rich girl who didn't know how good she had it. Riley wasn't going to feel sorry for her; he'd grown up with a mother who was a drug addict, a woman who'd abandoned him.

"Say something," she muttered, wanting to get it over with. "Tell me how not sorry you are for me."

"I'm not sorry for you, Paige," he said, but when he turned to look at her there was a softness in his eyes that took the sting out of his words. "But maybe I understand you a little better. I shouldn't have judged you. I'm just in a bad mood. I don't like it when people I care about are in danger." He pulled the car up in front of her apartment building and shut off the engine. "How about a truce? We need to work together."

"You just want to keep an eye on me."

"That, too. Look, Paige, it's not just you. I don't trust anyone."

"Except your grandmother."

He tipped his head. "Except her. She's special."

"One day you might manage to feel that way about another woman."

"I'm not looking for a wife. I don't know what my grandmother told you; I'm happy with my life."

"I'm happy, too, and I'm not looking to make any changes," she said pointedly.

"You may not be looking, but your life is changing. You now have a half sister."

She sighed. "I've been trying to forget about that."

"You have to deal with her, sooner or later."

"Let's make it later. I want to change my clothes and get back to the hospital."

"I'll wait for you and give you a ride."

"You don't have to do that. I can get myself there."

"We're keeping an eye on each other, remember?"

"What do you think I'm going to do, make some shady deal with an art buyer while I'm in the shower?"

He gave her a sexy smile. "If you think I need to follow you into the shower, just say so."

She saw the gleam in his eyes and gave a bemused shake of her head. "I can't figure you out. First you're nice, then you're sarcastic and cold, now you're flirting. Who is the real Riley?"

He grinned. "You like me, don't you?"

"I said you were complicated; I didn't say I liked you."

"Same thing."

"It's not at all the same thing." But as she got out of the car and slammed the door on his mocking smile, she was afraid he was right.

* * *

Alyssa couldn't concentrate on the loan application she was reviewing. Usually she loved her job as a loan officer for the First National Bank in San Francisco, but today her mind was back in her mother's apartment, hearing the words
your father is David Hathaway
. She still couldn't believe it.

For so many years she had wanted to know her father's name, but now that she did, she didn't know what to do with the information. How was she supposed to feel? Her emotions were all over the place. She was angry, hurt, jealous, but at the same time she was curious about the man who had fathered her. She'd seen David Hathaway in the newspaper. She'd known that the House of Hathaway had bought her mother's paintings. She'd been in the store—that beautiful, rich store. Her father owned that store.

Her father. She'd been without one for so long
.

But she didn't really have one now. David Hathaway, was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. Even if he weren't, would he suddenly recognize her as his daughter? If his other daughter, Paige, hadn't found out, would he have kept the secret forever? Would her mother have done the same? She suspected the answer was yes, but it didn't matter. The secret was out. Now she had to deal with it. She could wait for them to come to her, or she could go to them.

She got up and walked over to the desk where her manager, Jenny Conroy, was ending a phone call. "I'm not feeling well," she said. "I need to go home."

"Oh, all right." Jenny appeared surprised. No wonder: In the year that she had worked at the bank, Alyssa had never missed a day of work or been late. She was too focused on her goal to get ahead to allow her private life to interfere. Until today.

"I've finished a couple of loan applications and put them through," she added. "I'll leave the information with Mark in case anyone calls while I'm out."

"You do look flushed," Jenny commented. "I hope you're not catching that flu."

"Me, too." Alyssa returned to her desk, grabbed her purse, and left the bank, relieved to be out in the fresh air. Maybe the crisp breeze blowing between the tall buildings would clear her mind. It wasn't just her father she was thinking about; her mother was also on her mind.

The police had shown them a bracelet found near the scene of David Hathaway's assault -- a bracelet with the name Jasmine on it. Alyssa had recognized it immediately. She'd seen the bracelet in her mother's jewelry box, but she'd never known it was from her father. Another secret.

Her mother claimed she cut through the alley every day and that she didn't know when she'd lost the bracelet. The police had continued to ask her questions about her whereabouts on Wednesday night, about when she'd last seen David Hathaway and why he'd come to visit her. Her mother had given out little information. She was a pro at saying nothing.

How strange that, after all these years, the dragon from her mother's dreams should appear as an actual piece of art that someone had crafted, someone had owned someone had stolen. Alyssa sensed her mother knew more than she was saying. But the dragon was not her concern. She had a father at last. Now she just had to figure out what to do with him.

* * *

Paige walked into her father's hospital room and smiled at the private duty nurse who sat by his bedside. "Why don't you take a break? I'm going to be here for a while."

Paige moved closer to the bed as the nurse left the room. She reached out and touched her father's arm. He didn't move. His breathing didn't change. His eyelids didn't flicker. He'd never been a heavy sleeper, but today he was lost in some other world.

"Daddy," she whispered. "I'm here. It's Paige." What could she say to bring him back? "It's almost Elizabeth's birthday. We have to go to the cemetery. It's tradition. We can't miss it. You know that." She wouldn't remind him that he'd missed her own birthday a dozen times, not to mention other important events in her life. This wasn't the time for accusations.

His skin was so cool. She pulled the covers up over his body, tucking in the blanket next to his side. "I need you, Daddy. Mother needs you, too, even though she'd never admit it." She paused. "Your secrets are spilling out. Jasmine Chen came to see you last night. She said she loved you. I wonder how you feel about her. I wonder how you feel about her daughter, Alyssa. I wonder if you have any idea how wrong all this is."

"I wonder that, too," a woman said from behind her.

Paige whirled around. The woman in the doorway looked very familiar, a little like Jasmine, and a little like ... her father. "Who are you?" she asked with a shaky voice, even though she already knew.

"I'm Alyssa Chen." The woman gave her a hard, angry look. "I think I might be your sister."

Sister
? No.

Elizabeth was her sister, her only sister. Not this petite Asian woman, who was beautiful, exotic, and furious. There was no mistaking the anger in her brown eyes when she looked at David. Paige instinctively moved closer to the bed, feeling as if she had to protect him.

"He doesn't look like me." Alyssa walked around the other side of the bed and stared down at David Hathaway. "Not really. Maybe a little in the nose."

And in the shape of her face, and the freckle at the side of her nose, the Hathaway freckle. Elizabeth had had one. Paige did not. It bothered her that Alyssa did.

"I can't believe he's my father." Alyssa looked over at Paige. "How long have you known about me?"

"Since last night. I found out my father paid your college tuition. When I saw your mother, she didn't deny it or corroborate it. She said nothing."

"My mother is very good at saying nothing."

Paige heard the bitterness in Alyssa's voice and saw something else in her face: fear. "When did you find out he was your father?" Paige asked.

"This morning. My mother always refused to talk about my father. But she was afraid you were going to tell me the truth, so she told me first." Alyssa stared down at the man in the bed. "He never came by to see me, never wrote to me, never gave me anything that I knew about, although I guess he gave my mother some money."

"Quite a bit of money, actually."

"It couldn't have been all that much. We didn't live well."

Paige felt guilty, as if that was her fault, as if she should apologize for being the daughter he had raised and supported. But it wasn't her fault. And, to be fair, it wasn't Alyssa's fault, either. The man between them was the only one to blame.

Alyssa didn't say anything for a moment, then murmured, "I should go."

Paige wanted her to go, wanted to be able to pretend that she'd never come at all, but as Alyssa turned toward the door, she knew she had to stop her. "Wait. We need to talk."

"About what?" Alyssa asked warily.

Paige wasn't sure. Where could they begin? There were so many questions to ask. "About everything. About your mother and my father. About us."