Pillow Talk (25 page)

Someone had dismantled the tent and restored the room to the ordered arrangement it had enjoyed before the advent of four imaginative children.

Parker took in the difference, not as pleased as he expected to be. He'd rather enjoyed the jumble of blankets and cushions, once he'd gotten used to it, and missed the physical reminder of the place he'd first made love to Meg.

Playing host, he poured cognac for everyone. They settled on and beside the loveseats. The remnants of a fire burned in the grate, reduced almost to the glow of embers as the last log scattered into a few smoldering fragments.

Grandfather lifted his snifter towards Mrs. Fenniston. "I want you to be the first to know I've asked Elizabeth to do me the honor of becoming my wife. And"—he said with a proud smile—"she's accepted."

Parker choked on his brandy. Fire burned in his throat but he fo
rced a quick recovery, grateful
that Me
g was responding much more prop
erly.

"Now I know you're thinking this is way too fast," Grandfather said, "and I know I'll get no end of grief from Mathilde and goodness knows who else, but I have only this to say." He took a deep breath and smiled at Mrs. Fenniston. "We know life is short but what we don't know is just how short. And I'm not one to lose a good thing. A woman who can beat me at chess and loves chamber music—why, I'd be a fool to let her out of my sight. Especially at my age," he added.

Mrs. Fenniston lay one hand on Grandfather's right arm, giving him a gentle caress. "I never thought I'd marry again," she said, "but Augie's changed my mind. I do hope, Meg, you'll be able to manage without me back in Las Vegas. That does concern me."

Parker stiffened at her words. Had Meg planned her return and not told him?

Evidently so, because she said, "You
mustn't
worry about us. I'd never stand in the way of your happiness, and yes, your happiness shows!" She moved over and hugged Mrs. Fenniston first, then Grandfather, before sitting back down on the facing loveseat.

"Oh, thank you, dear. And I want you to take over the whole house, and never mind about any of the rent."

"I couldn't do that,"
Meg said.

"I insist.”

Meg nodded but she looked as if she'd preferred to continue
arguing the point. Parker ass
umed she would, later. But he could scarcely
be
concerned about such a minor issue when all he could register was that she was planning to leave New Orleans. And soon, or so it seemed.

"Now, what's your news?” Grandfather asked his question with a wink. "Maybe it will make all this talk of Las Vegas beside the point.”

Meg colored.

Parker shook his head. "I'm afraid it's about Gus. Marianne returned, engaged to Cleveland Morrisette, by the way, and swept him off with her."

Grandfather snorted. "That old so and so. He's twice her age. At least.” He thumped his empty glass on the arm of his chair. "Jules sure had bad taste in wives—until you, that is, Meg."

Still looking unhappy and withdrawn, she nodded.

"I didn't interfere while Jules was alive, but now that he's dead and buried, that puts a whole new light on things," Grandfather said. "Come see me in the morning, Parker, and we'll decide what to do about Gus. That woman's a bad influence and I'll be damned if I'll let her ruin the boy." He shot a glance at
Meg. “Esp
ecially when he was starting to
straighten out."

Parker nodded.

Grandfather put his glass down on the side table. "It's late and I'm tired, so I'll say good night. Confound that darn useless woman," he muttered as he and Mrs. Fenniston left the room.

Parker carried the empty crystal across to the bar. When he returned to Meg, he sat on the loveseat that faced her, rather than taking his seat beside her.

She looked over at him, that same distant expression on her face. "I'm very happy for your grandfather and Mrs. Fenniston," she said.

He nodded. He wished he could say the same for the two of them. "Like I said, Grandfather does have a way of getting what he wants."

"And knowing what that is," Meg murmured.

Parker heard her comment but he didn't know how to respond. Wasn't it obvious to her that he wanted her? "So you're planning your return to Las Vegas?"

Her hands clasped between her knees, she nodded.

"When?"

"Soon." Meg looked over at the fire. "The children need to get back into school. And it's almost Christmas and I haven't done a thing."

"I see." He thought of pointing out the kids
had already said how much fun Christmas in New Orleans would be.

"Would it matter to you if I asked you not to go?"

Her eyes definitely brightened, which gave Parker hope. But then she said, "Why?"

"Why what?" Man, this was hard. He should have sat next to her, taken her in his arms, swept her up the stairs to bed, then asked her to stay. He started to run a finger around his collar then remembered he was wearing his Tulane sweatshirt.

"Why should I stay in New Orleans?"

Because you've brought light into my life. Because I can't live
w
ithout you. Because I need you.
The true reasons screamed out in Parker's mind but as he stared at Meg, he found he couldn't say them. What if he'd been wrong and she was only indulging in a fling to while away the time? What did he really know about her?

He drummed on his knee, realizing as he did that he was unconsciously imitating his grandfather in an agitated state, and finally said, "The kids will love Christmas here. They haven't been to the zoo or City Park. And neither have you. And there's a lot of work to be done settling Jules's estate. You'll need financial and legal advice
…
" he trailed off.

That first day when he'd met Meg in Jules's suite, she'd reacted strongly to his arrogant assumption that she had been bought and paid
for by Jules for the pleasure of the evening. Bui he'd never seen her eyes with such fury or the skin above her lips turn white.

She rose. Her hands in the pockets of her jeans, she said, "Thank you, Parker. The next time we take a family vacation maybe we'll consider New Orleans. But for now we're going home."

He'd blown it. Parker stared at her stiff back as she walked toward the fireplace. Maybe there was still a chance. Maybe if he said forget all those reasons. Stay because I want to get to know you better, to make love to you, to share life with you.

Meg swung around, her back to the fireplace, her hands now clasped behind her back. She gazed at Parker, realizing she'd most definitely reaped what she had sown. She hadn't been honest with Parker from the beginning. If only she had, perhaps they might have had a chance. Perhaps she could even now be whispering to him, safe within his arms, I want to stay because I want to be with you.

Tell him the truth.
You have to go home anyway; it's clear he doesn't feel for you the way you feel for him.

He was about to speak when she said, "Parker, there's something I want you to d
o for me and there's something I
have to tell you."

He rose from the loveseat and crossed to stand in front of her. "Tell me," he said, anticipation in his voice.

Meg heard that note with dread. He wasn't going to like anything she had to say. She took
a
deep breath, then said, "First I'd like your
help
in setting up a trust. Anything I inherit
from
having married
Jules
should be put in
trust
for Gus."

"Everything?"

"Every penny."

"You're talking about a lot of money."

She shrugged. "All of it. And I'll sign whatever is necessary to give you control of my shares in the company."

"What's this about?" No eager anticipation
in
his voice now. "Washing your hands of the Ponthiers?"

Meg forced herself to meet his gaze. "You said earlier you couldn't understand why I married Jules. I'm about to te
ll
you and it's not pretty."

"Let's hear it."

"Jules offered me thirty thousand dollars to marry him for three days and vote my shares along with him in favor of the buyout."

Parker eyes narrowed. "My brother really did that?"

She nodded. The details weren't necessary; she'd hurt him enough.

Parker stepped back. Almost to himself he said, "He told me he'd do whatever it took and I even wondered when you showed up, but—" He rounded on her. "You made me forget all about those crazy ideas. Oh, yeah, you and
your lying body. You drove every suspicion from my mind."

"What we did together had nothing to do with this."

He laughed. "Do you expect me to believe that? Believe a woman who would do such a thing?" He rubbed a hand between his eyes. "God, you and Jules. Two of a kind."

"It wasn't like that, Parker. I only did it for the money."

"Money!" Parker paced to the loveseat then turned back. He advanced on her, standing so close she could see his chest rising and falling. He raised one hand and clamped it on the mantel. "Thirty thousand dollars?" He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face up to his. "And what else did Jules get for that money?"

"What do you mean?"

His mouth twisted. "I'm talking about sex. My brother would have gotten his money's worth from you."

"I told you before I did not have sex with Jules." Meg tried to keep the quaver from her voice but failed.

"Oh, right. Why not tell me another lie?" He let go of her chin and jammed both his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Dammit, I knew you were too good to be true."

Meg caught her breath. "Please, Parker, I know what I did was wrong, but I had my reasons. I didn't want to tell you but I thought it was the right thing to do.''

"The right thing to do?" He glared. "It's a strange time to be thinking of that. I could have lost what I've worked for my entire life, what's been in my family for generations. I'm glad you did tell me, just so I know what kind of person I'm dealing with."

"I'm sorry, P
arker." It was all she knew to s
ay. Of course he was upset; he had every right to be. Only, she wished he could separate out what the two of them had shared. "What I did with Jules, it had nothing to do with you and me."

He laughed and said, "Oh, no? You'd married one Ponthier for money. Why not sample the other one? Trade more sex for money?"

Meg saw red. She hadn't done any of what she'd done to hurt anyone. "If you had ever once in your life been faced with a child crying because his shoes are too tight and you don't have the money to buy new ones, you might look at life a whole lot differently than you do! I did what I did for my
children, and for that,
I'll never apologize."

Fists clenched at her sides, ice in her voice, she said, "And that sex the other day? Don't mention it; that was on the house."

And before he could see the tears welling in her eyes, she rushed from the room.

Twenty-three

T
hings could be worse, Parker reasoned, slumped in
his desk chair in his downtown office. He could have slit his throat shaving after his sleepless night. But since he hadn't done that, he had to face what he'd done to Meg the night before. Over and over in his fingers he turned the miniature Barbie doll shoe he'd found in some papers he'd taken from the library after Meg stalked out.

Stalked, Parker thought with a knife to the gut, didn't do justice to her furious exit.

And after a sleepless night of recrimination and reflection, a night in which he'd spent his fury against both Meg and his brother, he couldn't blame Meg for being so furious with him.

He'd said some terrible, horrible, nasty things to her.

Yet it wasn't Meg who'd wronged him—it was Jules. And he'd ravaged her when his a
n
ger should have been directed solely at his brother.

Within minutes after Meg had cleared the stairs, Parker had snatched some papers from the library desk, stuffed them in his briefcase, and torn from Ponthier Place in his Porsche. He'd battled the urge to floor the accelerator, gripping the wheel as he drove blindly, unaware of any destination.

He ended up at the lakefront past the University of New Orleans. Towards his right he made out the purposeful lights of the Lakefront Airport and the party-oriented ones of the casino boat docked just beyond.

He walked along the breakfront dividing the waters of Lake Pontchartrain from the shore, absorbing the extent to which his brother had gone to sell out Ponthier Enterprises from under Parker. Jules saw only the money to be gained. But for Parker, the family business was the focus of his life. Sadly, he reflected that he and Jules had been just as divided as if a wall, like the solid rock wall beside him, had marched between them all their lives.

For whatever reason, their mother's world began and ended with Jules. He was inclined to think that the seeds of that distinction lay in the shrouded history of his parent's marriage. But as he listened to the lapping of the lake waters along the shore, and stood staring up at the night sky lightened by the life of the city,
he knew he would never know the reason. Even if he asked his mother, she would have no answer for him.

Perhaps she and his father were still in love when Jules was conceived and born. By the time Parker came along three years later, life with the young Ponthiers probably hadn't been as rosy. Parker's father had been notorious for his womanizing.

No matter the reason, Teensy had cosseted and preferred Jules and blamed and distanced Parker. His father, whether to his credit or not, had ignored them equally.

And now Jules lay rotting in the family mausoleum at Metairie Cemetery and he, Parker, very much alive, was actively screwing up what he sensed was his one chance at happiness in his life.

Parker stopped and gazed out across the lake. Lights from the Causeway bridge led out over the dark waters in the distance. If he could find his way to forgive Jules for engineering the buy out and involving Meg in it, perhaps he too could find his way back through the night.

He turned and began walking towards his car. He'd struggled with his brother's troubled self for years; given a choice Jules would take the easy
out every time. When the multi-
million-dollar buyout offer had come along, Jules had seen only the immediate profits ho would reap. He cared nothing for tradition or
building a better company over the long term.

So Jules had schemed and he'd hired Meg to help him.

Why Meg? What about Meg had prompted Jules to think she'd entertain his offer? That question gnawed at him. Had Jules seen Meg with her children? He replayed what she'd said about doing anything for her children, and thought it was possible. Jules had a way of seeking a person's weaknesses and using them to achieve his own ends.

Even as Parker had experienced the darkness that dwelled within his brother, he'd seen the light that sparkled in Meg's eyes, a brightness that reflected a pure heart and a generous spirit. He still found it hard to accept that she'd agreed to go along with Jules, but he did believe, now that he'd calmed down and processed the shock of the planned betrayal, that the blame lay squarely with Jules.

Parker had driven home, calmer and exhausted, yet still unable to sleep, unable to answer the
question, "Could he trust Meg?"

Again the next morning he fingered the tiny toy shoe. He'd still been too upset with Meg to show up at Ponthier Place to meet with his grandfather to discuss Gus's future as they'd agreed last night. His grandfather had phoned the office earlier and Parker had told his secretary to tell him he was too busy to make it to Ponthier Place.

He felt guilty about his cowardly action, especially as he thought of Gus being torn from the friendships he'd made with Teddy, Ellen, and Samantha. Marianne might be Gus's mother, but she was not a friend to her son.

The intercom buzzed, jerking him from his thoughts. Before he could answer, the double doors of his office swung open. His grandfather rolled in, his eyebrows meetin
g over the bridge of his nose. "
A fine thing when I have to come down here to meet with my own grandson." He drummed the fingers of his right hand on his knee.

Parker's assistant had followed in the wake of the wheelchair. “May I get you some coffee, Mr. Ponthier?''

“Never mind the frills," Grandfather answered. "We've got business to attend to."

She backed out, too professional to ogle, but Parker knew she had to be curious. Grandfather Ponthier hadn't been to the Central Business District offices of Ponthier Enterprises in over a year, since the day he'd settled his shares of Ponthier Enterprises equally on Jules and Parker.

The doors swung shut.

Grandfather advanced on Parker's desk. “Is there some good reason you didn't come to the house? You don't look so occupied you couldn't get away from here."

“Well, I am." Parker heard the obstinate note in his voice and regretted it immediately. He
had no reason to be disrespectful to his grandfather.

"No need to be rude. You know it won't faze me." He relaxed his fierce frown slightly. "Now did you and Meg have a fight?"

"How did you know?"

He snorted. "You didn't show your face at the house, you look like you've been up all night—and for no good reason—and you're not smiling. Besides, Meg was drooping so low this morning, it only takes a half wit to put that two and two together."

Parker smiled despite himself, though he hated to hear Meg described as drooping, especially when he knew his own harsh words had caused her low spirits. "Okay, we had a fight."

"Good."

"Good? How can you say that?" Parker pushed back from his desk but remained seated. He hated towering over his grandfather, a man he'd looked up to all his life. Which was silly, because even confined to the wheelchair, his grandfather dominated any situation.

"If you can fight, you can love. There's kindling for emotion there. Works both ways. If you love, you'll fight some, too." Grandfather glanced out the windows at the view of the Mississippi River. After a long moment, he said, "I've known you all your life Parker, and with not one woman you've ever dated—the ones you brought around to the house at
least—have I ever seen you be any more than surface polite. And that Renee, the one you were going to marry, you would have been miserable with her. Too much pretending to be polite but
nothing substantial underneath."

Parker gazed at his grandfather, absorbing his words. It was true that he'd already clashed with Meg twice in the short time he'd known her. And grandfather was right; Parker never fought with anyone else.

And, Parker remembered with a smile, those two clashes had been balanced by the two times they'd made love, both times high points in his life.

Parker tried to push those memories to the back of his mind as he picked his way through his thoughts, intent on sparing Grandfather the knowledge of what Jules had schemed to do. "I can't tell you what she did that set me off. But it was something I have trouble understanding any woman or man doing. Yet she's this wonderful person—or so she seems. So who is she? I keep asking myself if I can trust her."

"Did she explain why she did whatever it was she did that upset you?"

"No—" Parker heard the denial cross his lips and corrected himself. "Well, she did, but I have to confess I wasn't listening very closely. She did say something about needing money pretty badly."

Grandfather nodded. "You know, when I
was born, the Ponthiers were at pretty low tide. You don't know what it's like to go without, but until I was almost fifteen, my dad and grandpa struggled, still trying to build back the family fortunes. Then the sugar business revitalized and they rode the stock market up and had the good sense to get out ahead of the crash. When others were selling, they were able to buy. But before that, life wasn't so sweet."

Parker followed his grandfather's story, knowing he wouldn't talk so long without a point. It wasn't his nature.

"Mrs. Fenniston has shared with me some of what Meg has gone through—how her worthless husband died and left her holding a bag with no sides, top, or bottom to it. So if she did anything to earn money to keep her family together and fed, I'd think long and hard before I condemned her for it."

"Even—" Parker stopped. H
e wanted the secret of Jules's final betrayal to remain buried.

"Even if it had something to do with Jules?"

Parker stared. Did he know? "What do you mean?"

Grandfather shrugged. "Women have married for money before. He was a good-looking guy, probably flashing a wad of bills around in Vegas. Maybe she saw a good thing and played her cards to cash in."

Parker shook his head. "Then why ask me to set up a trust in favor of Gus with anything she inherits from Jules?"

Grandfather drummed on his knee. "She's giving away the gains so what's not to trust?" He smiled at his own pun, then serious once more said, "I don't think it's Meg you're worried about trusting. I think it's your own heart you're afraid of."

Parker digested his grandfather's words.

"Don't think about it too long," Grandfather said, "Life is short."

Parker gave him a wry smile. "Thanks for listening and for your advice. Now what do we do about Gus?"

"Custody. You and Meg can watch him."

"Right." Parker frowned. "I know nothing about children and Meg is going back—"

The intercom buzzed. Parker pressed the speaker.

"I'm sorry, Parker," his assistant said, "but that's your nephew on line one and he said it was urgent."

Parker grabbed the phone.

F
arther uptown, at the Audubon Zoological Gardens, Meg pointed out
the white alligator lifting its
head from behind a fallen log. "Look, kids, there it is."

"That's not an alligator," Samantha said. "Alligators are green. Everybody knows that."

"Shows what you know," Ellen said. "This is an albino alligator. Guess you didn't learn too much in kindergarten, did you, dummy?"

Meg snapped her head around. "Ellen Mar
garet Cooper, you mind your
tongue. There is
no reason
to speak to your sister that wa
y."

Ellen's eye
s widened and to Meg's dismay,
her tough-as-nails daughter burst into tears.

Samantha promptly did the same, wailing, "I'm not a dummy, I'm just little!"

Teddy covered his ears. "Girls," he said, his voice an echo of
Gus's. Ellen cried even harder.
A young couple, arm in arm with eyes only for one another, moved away with an annoyed look back at the crying children.

"Sweetie, I didn't mean to make you cry," Meg said to Ellen, "but it's important to speak to your sister in a caring and respectful way, the way you like others to speak to you."

"Why does that matter when the world is coming to an end?" Ellen dashed her eyes and glared at Meg.

Meg put her
arms around Ellen and Saman
tha. "Are you sa
d you're going home? Is that
why you feel the world's ending?"

Ellen kicke
d at the ground and nodded. Sa
mantha copied her sister's actions.

"Don't you want to go home? You can see your friends and sleep in your own beds and—"
She stopped, at a loss to find treats that compared with white alligators and sugarcane harvesting and a new friend named Gus.

Determined to make an effort to raise their
spir
its, she said, "I'll take you to see the white tigers again when we get home."

"Everyone's seen those," Ellen said in disgust.

Teddy had uncovered his ears when the girls stopped crying. He walked back to them, a hopeful look in his too-sad eyes. "Hey, Mom, I've been thinking. Nothing's been the same since Dad died, so why not stay here and maybe Parker could be our dad?"

Dismayed at the eager looks on the girls' faces, Meg tightened her arms around her daughters. "It's not really that simple."