The Year Everything Changed (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-two
Elizabeth

“What did you decide?” Sam swam to where Elizabeth sat on the edge of the pool. “Are you going?”

Elizabeth leaned forward on her hands and looked down to meet his gaze. “No.”

“Mind telling me why not?”

“It will look like I’m there for the money.”

“Screw what it looks like. This could be your last chance to see your sisters. I think you should take it.”

“What makes you think they’ll be there—or that I want to see them?”

He shrugged. “Human nature. And they came last time when money wasn’t a part of it. Seems to me they’d put in a showing again, if only out of curiosity.” He tugged on her foot. “Come on, aren’t you even a little bit curious? Don’t you want to know if he left you something?”

“Maybe—but it doesn’t matter. Even if he did, I wouldn’t take it.” She’d changed her mind about having him pay her way through school. This, like everything else, she would do without him.

“You’re telling me you’d pass up, say, fifty grand just to prove how stubborn you can be?”

She snorted. “Jessie didn’t have anywhere near that kind of money.”

He pushed off and floated across the pool on his back. “I wouldn’t be so sure. How many poor men’s funerals do you think the governor attends?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” She’d never been to a funeral like her father’s. She and Sam had arrived late and stood through the service at a church that easily held seven hundred and was filled to overflowing. The people who spoke talked about a man she didn’t recognize, extolling Jessie’s compassion and dedication, remarking on his philanthropy and business acumen, calling him the tilt-up warehouse building king of Northern California.

Sam reached the other side of the pool. “What if it were more than fifty thousand? Say it was a hundred.”

There was a lot she could do with a hundred thousand dollars. Stephanie could go to graduate school without Sam insisting she get a job to help pay the tuition. And it would take Michael five years to save enough for a down payment on the house he wanted—unless they helped. Eric was desperate to secure financing on the ski shop he wanted to buy in Aspen. With a hundred thousand dollars they could help him with the down payment.

“So, you think I can be bought?” she tossed back.

“We all can, Lizzy—sorry, Elizabeth.”

“Would you cut that out? I told you I love it when you call me—” She realized what he’d done the second after she took the bait. “All right, so I change my mind—occasionally. That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen this time.”

He swam back to her, separated her legs, and wrapped them around his waist. “Come closer,” he said.

She did. “Now what?”

He gave her a wicked grin. “Well, now that I have you where I want you. . . .”

“Yes?”

“I figure I can talk some sense into you.”

She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him away. “Is the money really that important to you?”

“I don’t give a damn about the money. Do whatever you want with it. Hire a plane and scatter it over the city. I just don’t want you to miss seeing your sisters. They’re blood, Lizzy. That means something.”

“So after we exchange blood types, what do we talk about? I have nothing in common with those women, Sam.”

“What if I go with you?”

“You have a meeting with that guy from Chicago on Monday.”

“I’ll get out of it.”

Sam had been trying to set up the meeting for months. “This really means that much to you?”

He grew serious. “Think of all the things you’re sorry you didn’t do—like seeing your father when you had the chance and telling him how you felt about his abandoning you and your mother. I don’t want this added to the list.”

“All right,” she finally relented. “But you’re not canceling your meeting. I’m going alone.”

He moved to kiss the inside of her thigh. “Now that we have that out of the way, I think we should move on to other things.”

“What did you have in mind?”

He hooked his thumbs on the bottom of her two-piece suit and tugged.

She laughed. “Not here.”

“Why not?”

“The neighbors, for one.”

“They can’t see us.”

“They can if they’re out in their yard.”

He slipped his finger under the fabric and unerringly touched her, stroking with erotic, possessive intent. She caught her breath, making a small, quick sigh with the inhaled air. “You know what it does to me when you make that sound,” he murmured.

She laughed. “Everything turns you on.”

“Not true.”

“Tell me something that doesn’t.”

“Scampi.”

“What if there wasn’t any shrimp—just garlic and butter?”

A slow smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Spread where?”

Again she laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Admit it—you like having an empty nest as much as I do.”

“It has its moments.” But only when he was with her. “Did I tell you the catalog for fall classes arrived?”

He pulled himself out of the water to sit beside her. “What did you decide?”

“I have an appointment to talk to a counselor on Wednesday.”

He nodded. “I’m going to get a drink. You want one?”

The playful mood had changed. “I’ll have a beer.”

She heard the sliding glass door open and close again as Sam went inside to the kitchen. Alone, she let down her guard, releasing some of the crippling emotion that she kept concealed like an ugly scar. Tears she managed to control until she was alone took possession.

She used to be stronger, her composure unflappable. Lately, she either felt like crying or actually was crying. She’d tried to put it off to menopause; the tests the doctor ordered came back negative.

She listened for the door, knowing Sam would be back soon. If he found her this way he’d want to know what was wrong. She couldn’t tell him. She didn’t know. Not really. And Sam couldn’t accept that. Sam fixed things. It was the most basic part of who he was and one of the things she loved about him when it didn’t frustrate the hell out of her.

She heard him returning and slipped into the pool dipping her face into the water. When he appeared she summoned a seductive smile, reached behind her back, and unhooked the top to her swimming suit.

“What will the neighbors think?” Sam said.

In reply, she did something that surprised her as much as it did him—she winked. “That you’re one lucky guy.”

Chapter Twenty-three
Ginger

“I wish I’d been adopted.”

Taken aback by the statement, Ginger chanced a quick look at Rachel before she changed lanes to move onto the Benicia Bridge. Rachel was staring out the side window. “Why would you wish that?”

“Let’s just say my mother never would have won a mother of the year award.”

“I don’t think mine would have either—if she’d kept me. From everything I’ve read she put her career above everything and everyone.”

“Wasn’t she married when she died?”

“Engaged. To some record company executive.” She slowed for the toll booth. “I think it was more business than love—at least on her part. The articles I read said he was devastated when she died.”

Rachel dug four dollars out of her purse and handed them to Ginger. “I thought she was past that ‘sleeping your way to the top’ stage in her career when she died.”

“You’d think. But I saw a picture of the guy, and it wasn’t his pecs that attracted her.” Ginger paid the toll and merged into traffic. “So, what do you think is in the will?”

“I don’t know. I’m assuming Jessie was comfortable. According to his obituary he supported a number of charities.”

“I wonder if there was any left over.”

Rachel gave her a questioning look. “Things kind of tight?”

“I could really use a new car.” Ginger twinged. “Well, that certainly makes me sound mercenary.”

“At least you went back to see him again. You never said what happened that last time.”

“He was asleep, so we didn’t get a chance to talk. Did you go to the funeral?”

Rachel shook her head. “I was in Hong Kong trying to mend fences with a new client.”

“I was in Denver. My father’s birthday. Ironic, huh? The same day one father celebrated his seventieth birthday, the other was buried. I thought about flying back, but it would have created all kinds of family problems, and I didn’t think Jessie was the kind of man who cared who came to his funeral. I should have known he wasn’t going to last much longer. He looked pretty bad the last time I saw him.”

“I wasn’t going to come today,” Rachel admitted.

“Why did you?”

She hesitated. “I feel like a hypocrite saying this, but I’m hoping he left me something, too. Jeff and I met with a Realtor yesterday, and we’re not getting anywhere near what I’d hoped for the house.”

“I thought real estate was creeping up again.”

“It is, but we bought high and haven’t owned long enough to pay the fees and come out ahead. We’re going to be lucky to wind up with enough for a down payment on a place half the size. Jeff thinks he should rent for a while, but there isn’t anything worth moving into in the area that isn’t almost as much as the mortgage payment. With both of us renting, the taxes would kill us.”

“What do the kids think about moving?”

“We haven’t told them yet.”

“How do you think they’ll take it?”

“Not well. Especially Cassidy. There’s no way we can afford to stay in the same area, which means she’ll have to change schools—the third time in two years she’s had to make new friends. Jeff’s brother, Logan, said he would come out to help us move, and I’m hoping he’ll be able to distract Cassidy while it’s going on. He’s fantastic with her and John. They adore him.”

“Don’t you think that as long as you and Jeff are civil to each other, Cassidy and John will adapt to the change? It seems to me that having two homes and, eventually, two sets of parents to love them could be a positive thing.” She wasn’t just saying it to make Rachel feel better, she really believed it. She would do whatever it took to make a warm and loving home for Marc’s children after the divorce.

“Kids don’t care if their parents are screwing around or just longing to get back into the dating game. As long as Mom and Dad are sober and not abusive, kids do best in the old fifties sitcom household.”

“If you believe that. . . .”

“What?” Rachel prompted.

“Never mind.”

“Why haven’t I tried harder to work it out with Jeff?”

Ginger didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.

Rachel turned to look out the side window. “It hurts too much,” she admitted, a catch in her voice. “After we talked last time I decided to try—really try—to put it behind me. But no matter what I do, I can’t look at him without picturing him making love to her.”

“Maybe you just need to give it a little more time.” God, she felt like such a hypocrite.

“That’s what my mother used to say—time heals everything. It didn’t matter what complaint I brought to her, that was her answer. Of course I think she was saying it as much to convince herself as me. Men never stuck around long at our house, and she needed something to get her past the disappointment when they walked out.”

“Did you ever get attached to any of your mother’s boyfriends?”

Rachel let out a bitter laugh. “For the most part, the men Anna brought home weren’t father material. I was grateful for the ones I didn’t have to hide from when she left me alone with them.”

Rachel’s life was so far removed from anything Ginger had experienced that it was like listening to a story told in a foreign language—beyond comprehension. “Where did you live when you were growing up?”

“Everywhere. Anna never stayed anywhere very long. She didn’t like paying bills and loved fresh starts, so we were on the road a lot. The first time I went to the same school for an entire year was my freshman year in college.”

“That must have been hard.” The traffic grew heavier as they neared the Vacaville outlet stores, forcing Ginger to concentrate on the road again.

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice.” Rachel moved her seat back and crossed her legs. “What about you?”

“Did you ever see
Happy
Days
?”

“The television show?”

Ginger nodded. “My parents were the Cunninghams—about as exciting as a white bread and mayonnaise sandwich.”

“And you think that was bad?”

Ginger glanced at Rachel to see if she was serious. Rachel looked back with open, simple curiosity. “I did at the time. All of my friends had mothers who were doing something interesting with their lives. Mine was content to stay home and knit socks and sweaters for the church’s missionary packages.”

“What about your father?”

“He owned a garage. My brother was supposed to go into business with my dad when he graduated college, but Billy’s girlfriend wanted to live in New York. It broke my dad’s heart. So he retired and sold the garage, and then two months later Billy’s wife left him and he moved back home.” She smiled. “I’ve always loved the irony.”

“How did Billy react when he found out you were adopted?” Rachel asked.

“He wanted to know if he was adopted, too. I think he was a little disappointed when he found out he wasn’t.” Her brother was in the midst of a midlife crisis, the kind that demanded new women, new adventures, and expensive new toys. A new family would have been a fresh olive in an old martini.

“What about you? Are you over the shock? I don’t know that I would be,” Rachel asked.

“I’m okay with it most of the time. At least I’m not angry anymore.” She spotted Sacramento’s skyline in the distance, concrete and steel fingers protruding through prime agricultural land. They were due at the attorney’s office in forty-five minutes. If traffic didn’t get any heavier, they would make it with time to spare.

“That’s good—isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I had a target for some of this stuff.” Ginger pointedly looked at Rachel.

Rachel laughed and held up her hand. “Don’t even think it. The disintegration of my marriage is as much as I can handle right now.” A stunned expression replaced the smile. “I can’t believe I’m actually joking about this.”

Ginger repeated Rachel’s question. “That’s good—isn’t it?”

“It scares the hell out of me. It doesn’t hurt as much when I’m mad.” She took a clip out of her purse, twisted her shoulder-length hair into a loose knot, and secured it to the top of her head. “That’s enough about me and Jeff. Tell me about Marc. How does he feel about everything that’s happened to you lately?”

“He thinks I should try to contact my mother’s family.” A safe enough answer and a perfect segue into something safer yet. “I looked them up after I talked to Jessie about Barbara. Her parents are East Coast and old money and not the kind of people I picture opening their arms to a stranger, even if I showed up with a DNA test proving who I am. According to an article
Rolling
Stone
did on Barbara, her mother was furious when she left college to join a band. It didn’t matter that she was mainstream rock and sang in as many concert halls as auditoriums. It was way too middle class for them.”

“I wonder if she told them about you.”

“Not likely. My guess is that she told as few people as possible. I haven’t run across anything that even hints she might have had a child.”

“How do you suppose she pulled that off?”

“The official version is that she went into seclusion for several months to write the music for
White Lies
.”

“I have that CD,” Rachel said. “Jeff gave it to me for Christmas a couple of years ago.”

“I know a couple of the songs she recorded, but don’t own any of her music.” Ginger had gone online to buy a couple of CDs, saw her mother’s face on the album covers, and changed her mind. She wasn’t ready for the intimacy of Barbara’s music, realizing she would fixate on the words, searching for hidden meanings, looking for a connection, imagining one that wasn’t there.

“What about Jessie? Is he ever mentioned in any of the stuff you found?”

“Not in connection with her. I ran into a couple of old articles about one of his movies, and a lot of fairly recent stuff about his construction and real estate dealings in Sacramento, but nothing that tied him to the music industry.”

“What do you suppose he had back then that made two women young enough to be his daughters go to bed with him?”

“Money?” Ginger said, stating the obvious.

“That would have worked for my mother,” Rachel said. “I don’t think it would have mattered to yours.”

“Maybe it was power with her. Or maybe it really happened the way Jessie said it did. They were friends, and she tried to help him when he was depressed, and one thing led to another.”

Rachel uncrossed her legs and smoothed her slacks. “Well, whatever it was, it worked. I’m just surprised there are only four of us.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

Ginger saw the off ramp for the Tower Bridge and merged left. She was almost sorry this would be her last trip to Sacramento. She’d begun to like the city Jessie had called home.