The rest of the day and into the evening, Jessica and I work to bring together the signing of the contracts. By the time we call it a night, the documents have been delivered to the sports center investors. Couriers are scheduled to pick up the signed documents, as well as cashier’s checks, tomorrow morning, delivering them to me at the hotel. And we all know that by Monday, the deal will be finalized, effectively ensuring that everything Martina wanted from the Brandon family is now with Mike. Even my father is pleased, which I care about for one reason: he can get the fuck out of my face and Jessica’s.
Everything feels on track, and come Saturday morning, life is beginning to fall into a sweet spot. The hotel staff is managing the packages I’m expecting, and to fight the cool morning mountain air, Emily and I bundle up in thick hoodies and walk to the coffee shop, fully intending to hurry back. Instead it’s warmer than expected, and we walk around the neighborhood, since Emily can’t run until next week, talking about my family, her family, work, and even a little play.
We’re about an hour into the walk when my father sends me a text: Is it done?
I text him back: You know it won’t be done until Monday.
His reply is: Make sure it’s done.
I show Emily the exchange and she laughs. “I’m sorry, but he’s like a cartoon character sometimes. Remaining on the topic of your parents … I tried to call your mother again this morning and she just won’t answer. Considering how she likes to be in the middle of everything, I’m concerned.”
“Considering Mike Rogers’s stuff is still pending and about to close, it’s not sitting well with me either.”
She stops walking and turns to me. “Should we drive to her house and see her?”
“Maybe. Let me find out where she is right now.” I text Seth: Where is my mother?
He replies by calling. “Believe it or not, she’s at home with your father,” he says. “On another subject, let’s talk about Emily’s brother.”
“Hold on. She’s with me.” I point to a secluded bench, and Emily and I sit down before I place him on speaker.
“No news,” Seth tells us. “That’s good news. We can make contact with the officials Monday and start bringing this to a close.”
“But isn’t there an investigation into the woman’s death?” Emily asks. “Won’t that drag on indefinitely?”
“The coroner’s report is going to show a drug overdose,” he says. “It should wrap up quickly from there.”
“I see,” Emily says, her fingers curling into her palms. “I won’t ask for more details. I’m sure you found a way to make it reasonable that I would do that. Depression or something. So okay. Moving on. What happens if my real brother shows up?”
“We’ll intercept him,” he says. “Before the Geminis do the same, but we’re not expecting him to show up, Emily.”
“What about a funeral?” she asks. “Won’t something like a burial have to happen?”
“We’ll have your brother, or rather, our man acting as your brother, request a cremation, and the remains will be shipped to his location outside the US.”
The minute the call ends, Emily runs her hands down her legs. “Well, there it is. Cremated. And it’s over.” She stands up and I join her as she faces me and asks, “Should we go see your mother?”
My hands go to her shoulders. “I can’t think of one damn word to say that sounds good in my head right now.”
“That was the right thing to say,” she says. “Because it’s honest and it’s real. What did he say about your mother?”
“You don’t want to talk about the funeral or your brother or—”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s strange to think that some woman I don’t know is being cremated in my place. But it’s almost done, and done is good. What did Seth say about your mother?”
“She’s at home with my father, and I’d rather talk to her alone.” I glance at my watch. “And I really need to get home and check the status of the contracts. Going with your premise of done and over, I want this done and over.”
* * *
Once we’re home, I grab the packages we’ve already received from the front desk, and together Emily and I begin making stacks on the dining room table. By late afternoon I have every package expected but one: the one for Adrian’s consortium. I dial the manager I’ve been dealing with, and the call goes to voice mail. I repeat this several times before bed.
I’m up early Sunday morning, skipping a shave and throwing on faded jeans, a Brandon Enterprises black T-shirt that somehow seems appropriate right now, and boots. I leave Emily in the bathroom doing what women do, which is absolutely nothing I understand, except that she smells really damn good after the fact, and make my way to the kitchen. Coffee comes first, then I head to the dining room and sit at the end of the rectangular table to stare at the stacks of contracts, my gaze lingering on the empty spot that should be filled.
My fingers begin to thrum the wooden surface, my mind contemplating all the ways this deal might go wrong. I text Seth the same text message I sent him yesterday: Where is my mother?
He answers with: She just arrived at Sweet Hill Bakery downtown and met an unknown man. When he leaves, we’ll follow up and determine who he is. Your father’s at his chess club.
“You’re worried.”
I glance up to find Emily standing in the doorway, her eyes a striking pale blue that matches the T-shirt she’s wearing, her loose-fitting black jeans accenting the fact that I need to feed her this morning. “You’re still too thin.”
“You’re changing the subject,” she says. “You’re worried about the missing contract.”
“Something doesn’t feel right. Mike has a lot on the line with his team if the wrong people control the complex.”
“And your mother won’t return our calls,” she supplies.
“It’s a concern.”
“Seth’s people have been watching her, right? Surely they’d know if she was seeing Mike?”
“She’s not seeing Mike now,” I say. “That doesn’t mean that won’t change.”
“We should go see her, Shane. If she’s with your father, so what? Call Seth. Find out where she is right now.”
“I know where she’s at,” I say. “A restaurant a few blocks from here, with a man who isn’t Mike.”
“As in a date?”
“We don’t know who he is, but I wouldn’t be surprised. My father was here with his mistress the night before last.”
“Oh. Well. That’s very disappointing. I don’t know why, but I thought, with his cancer and Derek’s loss, that they’d find each other again. Why don’t they just divorce?”
My cell phone buzzes, and I glance at the text that reads: He’s a banker with USA Bank. Roy Givens is his name.
“Fuck,” I murmur, pushing to my feet, the name Roy Givens brutally familiar. A man who’s not only gone to war with my father on various occasions, he’s damn near won.
Emily pushes off the wall. “What is it?”
I stand up. “My mother’s officially a problem.” I hand Emily my phone to read the message, and her eyes go wide.
“If he’s involved, he’s trying to steal the sports center deal out from under us and screw me and my father. While my mother, I assume, continues to screw Mike Rogers.”
“But we have all of the signed agreements except Martina’s consortium.”
“Maybe Martina decided to cut us out. Same result, but more money for him. We need to go see my mother.”
“Yes,” she says. “We do. I’ll grab my purse.”
She darts away, and I text Cody to alert him that we’re on our way downstairs. I step into the foyer and shrug into a lightweight black leather jacket as Emily rushes down the stairs, her purse in hand, a knee-length jacket already in place. “I’m ready,” she announces.
As am I, I think: to have a little chat with my mother.
* * *
The restaurant is busy when Emily and I arrive, obviously a hotspot for weekend brunch that I’ve never frequented. Emily and I step through the door and are greeted by the hostess, but we don’t need her help to find my mother, who’s sitting at a small round table for two, facing us, her companion’s back to us. She looks up, her gaze landing on me and her anger is instant, palpable.
“Maybe we should step outside and wait on her,” Emily suggests.
My mother leans across the table and speaks to Roy and then stands up. Emily’s grip tightens on my arm. “Shane. We should step outside.”
“We’re staying right here,” I say, tracking my mother’s path as she weaves through tables, her pantsuit a shade of innocent pink, which is almost comical right about now. Forgive me, she’d pleaded at the funeral, in a moment of guilt that wasn’t any more honest than she’s likely to be right now.
My mother steps in front of me. “Shane,” she bites out, my name spoken like a parental scold before she steps around me and heads toward the door, clearly with the same idea as Emily: go outside.
Emily releases my arm, and I pursue my mother out the door, where she smartly walks several feet from the restaurant, away from prying eyes and ears, before whirling on me. “Don’t tell me you showing up here was an accident,” she says. “We both know it’s not.”
“Why are you with that man?”
“Why? Why is your father with some twentysomething girl?”
“That’s deflection. Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
“You turned Mike against me,” she accuses, her voice cracking. “You took him from me.”
“You were furious when you found out about his plans for a hostile takeover.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Unless that was an act?”
“That’s insanity.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“I’m in love with your father,” she says.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I know you forbid him from seeing me.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes,” she says, folding her arms in front of her. “He told me that.”
I consider the idea that she might really care about Mike, and if I believed that to be true, it would give me at least a short pause in my plans. Except for the fact that Mike walked away from her in a second, and it’s interesting to me that she’s with yet another man who has a tie to my father. “Why are you with Roy? You know that he’s Father’s enemy, right?”
“I know that he’s not mine.”
It hits me then that she wants my father’s attention to the point of desperation. “Divorce him.”
“He needs me.”
“He treats you like crap. And look what you’re becoming.”
“What I’m becoming is the best me that I’ve been in years. You don’t have to understand that, Son. But you have to accept it.”
“That man would destroy Father if he could.”
“He thinks he is now, by being with me, which means he’s not focused on your sports center deal.” With that, she turns and walks to the door.
I tilt my head and watch as she approaches the restaurant at the same moment Emily exits, the two of them pausing to talk, but I’m still focused on the exchange I just had with my mother. Did she just tell me she’s distracting Roy because he was targeting the sports center deal that I didn’t even know she knew about? And does my father know? Would he endorse my mother sleeping with someone for financial gain? My answer is yes, and it doesn’t change my opinion of my father, but my mother proves less the woman I once thought she was every single day.
I set my fucked-up family aside and refocus on the sports center deal. I dial my father. “What does Roy have to do with the stadium deal?”
“He heard rumors about a sale,” he says, not even bothering to play dumb.
“And you did what? Distracted him with your wife?”
“Does this call have a purpose?”
“Is someone trying to outbid us on the stadium?”
“It was a rumor we shut down. And you wouldn’t be asking this if the contracts weren’t signed. What the fuck is going on?”
“The deal will be done Monday,” I say, ending the call, my hand settling on my jaw, stubble rasping beneath my palm, a bad feeling sliding down my spine. Why don’t I have that signed paperwork? I consider my options and dial Adrian.
He answers on the first ring. “I wondered when you’d call.”
That bad feeling officially punches me in the gut. “What’s going on, Adrian?”
“We should meet.”
“After the paperwork’s signed.”
“That doesn’t work for me,” he says, confirming that he’s delayed the contract signing.
“This deal is worth a small fortune to you.”
“Yes. It is. I have the paperwork with me here at the restaurant. Signed. Come and get it.”
“I will not step foot in that restaurant.”
“You will if you want this paperwork. And, Shane, bring Agent Dennis with you.”
He ends the call.