Sister's Choice (18 page)

Grace kissed her cheek, then wiped off the lipstick smear. “Lucky and I agree it’s our pleasure.”

Cash escorted her to his car, a black Honda sedan. “It’s my mama’s. She lets me borrow the car keys if I’m a good boy.”

“I like your pickup just fine.”

He opened the door. “Mama says she’ll know I’ve grown up for good when I buy a real car. But there’s no point I can see in that. The pickup gets me wherever I have to go and then some.”

Once she slid inside, she could tell the car didn’t belong to Cash. The upholstery was clean enough to do surgery on. There were no tools, no empty soft-drink cans or fast-food wrappers. Plus, the car had a navigation system. She knew Cash well enough to be sure he might spring for mud tires or heavy-duty woofers and tweeters, but he would no more admit to needing a navigator than a map.

“Your mother’s a very tidy person,” she said when he got in.

“Not as much as you think. I cleaned out the car just for you.”

“I’m impressed.”

He started the engine and pulled out to the drive. “Didn’t all your boyfriends clean out their mamas’ cars?”

“That sounds like a normal adolescence, and mine was anything but. My boyfriends were more likely to clean out their mamas’ purses—even bank accounts, if they could get to them.”

He glanced at her. “Lived on the wild side, did you?”

She sidestepped that for a moment, although Kendra’s suggestion that she tell Cash about herself was on her mind. “You must have had some pretty wild times yourself.”

“More so in Kentucky. I spent the first couple of years doing the party circuit. Not the mint-julep circuit, mind you. The
down and dirty, drink yourself into oblivion with anybody who comes along
circuit.”

“I can understand that.”

“From everything you’ve slipped into our conversations, I think you probably can.”

“You had a good reason. Better than mine.” She decided to take the plunge, or at least dip her toes into the confessional stream. “I was just miserably unhappy and immature. I didn’t like the only person who had ever loved me, and I made sure she knew it. I made her life a living nightmare, then I disappeared and left my future to her imagination.”

“You’re talking about Kendra?”

“The one and only. We moved out of the family home when I was just eleven. Our father was dead. Our mother showed up occasionally. Basically Riva—my mother—spent her good days charming every available man with a seven-figure-or-better income. She spent her bad days with us or in recovery of one sort or another. Kendra decided to break that cycle, so she went off to college at Northwestern with me in tow. Only I didn’t want a different life. I wanted the only one I’d ever known, as crazy as it was.”

Jamie knew how to gauge whether a man was interested in what she had to say. Had Cash looked uncomfortable or bored, she would have stopped there. Probably for good. Because she didn’t owe anybody the story of her past. But Cash was neither. He was listening carefully, and he reached over and lightly covered her hand.

“Seems to me you’re making up for that now,” he asked. “That’s at least some of what this pregnancy is about, right?”

“I owe her more than I can ever give her. She tried her darnedest to give me a real childhood and adolescence. But she was my sister, not my mother.”

“And you resented her for that?”

“I was a kid.”

“What happened after you left?”

“I learned the hard way how much Kendra loved me and exactly what she’d tried to save me from.”

“Bad times.”

“I didn’t just walk on the wild side. I wallowed in the gutter. Then I got arrested. I was guilty, by the way. I was caught with a guy who stole a car, and I didn’t do a thing to try to stop him. I was too high to care. But we got caught, and the court appointed me an attorney. His name was Larry Clousell.”

“Hannah’s father?” He sounded surprised.

“Larry’s firm required pro bono work, so he was an associate doing some time as a public defender. He got me off on a technicality, and got me pregnant while he was at it. He’s not nearly as bad as that makes him sound, by the way. He was young and pretty sure he could handle anything. I turned on the charm—and him while I was at it—and for a while he was so head over heels, he forgot to worry about scruples. When he found out I was pregnant, he came to his senses and gave me an ultimatum. Either I cleaned up my act in rehab, or he would make sure I never held the baby.”

Cash gave a low whistle.

She went on. “You’ve heard the expression ‘scared straight’? That’s what I was. But Larry did something else for me. He made me believe I could turn my life around. He gave me that chance, and got me into the best program he knew. And once I got into therapy, I realized I had a choice. I could be all the things my mother never was—responsible, loving, involved—or I could be exactly like her. And by then, sober and terrified and already in love with the baby inside me, I knew which I wanted to be.”

She was silent a moment, and so was he. “Not exactly a cheerful start to our evening, was that?” she said at last.

He glanced at her; then he grinned. “I’d say you were just laying it out, making sure I understood who was in my car. Or maybe you were giving me a chance to drop you off by the side of the road. You have mad money in that cute little purse?”

“Will I need it?”

“You know what I like about that story? Not the details, because my imagination’s working on those, and I’m getting mad at a world that put you through that.”

“I put myself through that, Cash. Nobody else was responsible.”

“You’re saying if you’d grown up in a good home, with loving, caring parents, you’d have done the same?”

“A lot of people grow up in worse circumstances than I did and go on to live exemplary lives.”

“And a lot more don’t. How you grow up matters, which is why you’re such a good mother to those little girls. But let me tell you what I like about that story.”

“Go on.”

“You’re not ashamed of yourself. It’s just part of who you were. Who you are. You’ve accepted it, put it in perspective, owned up to it. All that. And you can lay out that tale to a man who’s more or less a stranger. Not to get attention. Not to impress me. But just to be clear. So I’ll understand.”

“I do spend a lot of time looking for absolution. I’m not quite as put together as you make me sound.”

“I’d say that’s a good thing, too. We could all use some absolution. Just tell me. If you have these babies and give them to Kendra, will you be able to move on once and for all? Will you be able to say, ‘my debt is paid’?”

She wondered. “I’d rather just say, ‘I love you, sis. I’m glad I could do this. I’m glad I could give you something wonderful.’”

“You’re a special kind of lady, Jamie Dunkirk.”

And despite herself, she was beginning to think Cash Rosslyn was a special kind of man.

C
ash normally stayed away from the Valleywide Home Builders’ social events. Most of the members were closer to his father’s age than his. When his colleagues were in each other’s company, many of them felt it was their sacred duty to flaunt whatever wealth they had achieved. Out on a job site, they weren’t so bad. He would run into them from time to time, dressed informally, caps set firmly on graying heads, clipboards and portfolios in one hand while they tapped out the next cigarette with their other. Too busy to prove anything, they were good for a chat or a laugh or a beer. But more than beer flowed at these gatherings, and as Cash pulled to a stop at the lodge, he warned Jamie.

“There’s a couple of guys who’ll try to hit on you. You’ll be the prettiest thing they’ve seen in years, and they’ll have had too much to drink. A friend calls this the annual Home Wreckers’ dinner dance.”

“Any lecher in particular?”

“Yeah, Orel Jensen, the guy who owns O’Jensen Homes, Inc. He thinks of himself as a real mover and shaker. They’ve been sniffing around Cashel Orchard. He wants to make an offer, but we’ve discouraged him for now.”

“An offer? To do what?”

“Develop the place. He thinks he can get the county board to go along with a planned community there. High-density housing. Maybe a little undeveloped land in the middle and along the edges as a sop to the environmentalists and neighbors. Of course, it’s not zoned for anything like that, but he has time, contacts and patience.”

“Grace would have a fit.”

“He’s willing to wait until she’s gone.”

Jamie stopped. “Don’t tell me you’re talking to him about it? Without her knowledge?”

“Our family doesn’t operate like that.”

She looked relieved. “Good.”

He ushered her out of the car and put his hand on her back, a pleasurable experience. He splayed his fingers wider so he could feel her flesh ripple as she walked. “He’s not the only one interested, but he’s the most vocal. Personally, I’d rather sell to the Devil and Sons, but Orel is successful at what he does, and he has the resources to show for it. Unfortunately his houses are cheaply built. The place’ll start to look run-down in fewer years than it takes to finish all the houses.”

“Grace said something about a conservation easement.”

“That’s possible. But Granny Grace knows that, unless somebody’s really taking care of the orchard, the trees are just going to die anyway, and the whole place will become one huge brush pile. The land has been farmland or orchard since the 1700s, and we know that’s how it should remain. But right now, nobody’s stepping up to the plate.”

“What about you?” She stopped and faced him. “Could you?
Would
you?”

“That’s a lifetime responsibility.” He paused. With Jamie in high heels, they were eye to eye. He grinned, because her eyes were so serious. “I don’t do responsibility.”

“Then I’d better tell Kendra. She’s expecting you to build a house.”

“I do short spurts of responsibility. And I finish what I agree to start.”

“I guess the land’s not in your blood.”

The only thing in his blood right now was the smell and sight of this woman. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone so lovely. Pregnancy certainly didn’t detract from Jamie’s sensuality. Her cheeks were tinged with rose; her skin was nearly translucent; her eyes seemed even larger and more luminous. And in that dress? She carried herself like royalty.

“Let’s just go and have a good time,” he said, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. “This is a problem we can’t solve tonight.”

She nodded reluctantly, and he took her hand and tucked it under his arm.

The lodge was really an old bank barn that had been converted years before into a social hall, used largely for gatherings like this one, or wedding receptions and reunions. Although the building’s origins were clearly visible on the outside, inside a huge stone fireplace rose to the vaulted ceiling, and a full wall of windows made good use of the outside light and views. Round tables adorned with white linen and chrysanthemums hugged the paneled walls. A band was set up in front of the fireplace—synthesizer, two guitars, a drummer and a vocalist crooning “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling” into a sound system that was better than they deserved. Waiters in white jackets carried silver trays of appetizers and glasses of champagne, circulating throughout the cavernous space. Above them, on both sides, narrow second-floor mezzanines provided more room for tables.

“Cozy, huh?” Cash joked. “I like the place because it’s impossible to have a real conversation. Especially if the band’s loud enough. That way I don’t have to hear how well everybody’s doing, and how surprised they are that Rosslyn and Rosslyn is still in business.”

“Why do you come?”

“Because my father refuses to. And we need to remind these guys we’re still going strong. Let’s get you something to drink. Can you have a soft drink?”

“Something fruity, if they have it. Or tomato juice.”

He led her to a bar across from the band, and she settled on a Virgin Mary. He got a beer for himself, and they wandered across the room to where a display had been set up of some of the projects the members had completed in the past year.

“What’s the drill?” she asked. “I’m pretty much starving.”

“Sounds chronic for a woman carrying twins.”

“Afraid so. I’ll try not to eat your dinner, too.”

He flagged down a waiter and got her a chicken wing. Then, while she worked on that, he made the rounds, returning with a small plate filled with a variety of finger foods.

“Spring rolls, chicken pinwheels, a cheese puff, two stuffed mushrooms—don’t you dare eat them both—and a barbecue pork sandwich.”

“It can’t be a real sandwich, can it? It’s only one bite.” She popped it into her mouth. “I bet there were more where that came from, right?” Then she winked to let him know she was kidding.

“If we move closer to the middle of the room, we can just steal food from people’s plates as they walk by.”

“You would do that for me?” She licked her fingers. “If you’re going to take up a life of crime, go big-time. Get me another chicken wing.”

He took his mushroom off the plate before it disappeared into her mouth, and watched her eat everything else. “How was it?” he asked when she was finished. “Did you take the time to taste anything?”

“Not bad. I used to be a cook, you know. While I was straightening out my life. Feeding people makes me happy. If I wasn’t planning to be an architect, I’d be a chef.”

“You’re a good woman to know. I like being fed.”

“I bet you’ve had women feeding you all your life.” She stopped, and her eyes suddenly looked troubled. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about your marriage. I meant—”

“You meant my mother and my grandmother. They fight over me. Granny Grace couldn’t cook a meal without adding something new. That ham she baked you and the girls? She glazed it with—”

“Root beer,” Jamie said. “Tabasco sauce and orange rind. She told me. I copied the recipe, or what there was of one. She makes things up as she goes along.”

“My mother likes things plain. She says she wants to savor every flavor all by itself. The result of a childhood of Granny Grace’s cooking, no doubt.”

“So which do you prefer?”

“I prefer to eat everything they give me with no complaints.”

“Smart man.”

The band stopped playing, and a man in a pastel blue suit, ruffled shirt and a string tie announced it was time to serve dinner. The music would resume at the conclusion.

“We should have staked our claim to a table,” Cash said. “There are a couple of smaller businesses, like ours, with good men and women running them. We try to stick together, but it might be too late now.” He looked up just in time to see a man bearing down on them. He snatched Jamie’s plate and tried to put himself between them, but it was already too late.

“Cash, my man.” The man was dressed in a double-breasted striped suit that looked like an Italian knockoff. He had more black hair than a man pushing sixty had a right to, and a Rolex that he’d either gotten from a street vendor or an ultraexpensive jewelry store. Cash prided himself on not being able to tell the difference.

“I’ve saved you a place at my table,” he said. Then he stuck out his hand in Jamie’s direction. “Orel Jensen. Cash and I are old, old friends.”

Jamie slipped hers into his. “Jamie Dunkirk. Cash and I are new, new friends.”

“Cash, I sure admire your taste. In women, if not in houses.” His laugh was hearty and counterfeit.

“Only the best of both,” Cash said, but Orel wasn’t listening. His gaze was sweeping Jamie from head to toe. Finally it came to rest on the just-visible mound that was slowly expanding her waistline.

“Well, you sly fox.” He glanced at Cash. “I thought you said new, new friends?” He looked back at Jamie and grinned.

“Oh, the babies?” she asked with a dismissive laugh. “Oh, these aren’t Cash’s babies. They’re my brother-in-law’s.”

Cash nearly choked, but Jamie wasn’t finished yet. She watched Orel’s eyes widen and timed her follow-up perfectly. “I can see you’re worrying about my sister. You don’t have to. She was right there with us when I got pregnant. She’s all in favor. We’re that kind of family.”

Hours later, in the car on their way back up the mountain to the orchard, Cash was still grinning, and not because of the emcee’s jokes over dessert and coffee.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell the poor guy what was really going on,” he said, looking fondly at Jamie. “Now I’ll be the talk of the association. I’ll be the swinger with the gorgeous, willing girlfriend.”

“You can call him tomorrow and explain. I swear, though, he was sweating so hard just thinking about it, I thought he was going to fan himself with his toupee. And do people still use words like
swinger?
”

“The sexual revolution might have come to the Valley, but we’re probably pretty far behind in the language department.”

“Might have come?”

He smiled at her. “Are we talking about sex, Miss Jamie?”

“I seem to be.”

“So if we’re talking about sex, go ahead and tell me about Alison’s father. So we’ll be all caught up.”

“You mean because I clearly had sex with him?”

“That’s the connection.”

“He was a mistake. Professional gambler. Good enough at it to pay adequate child support, too. Seamus is as Irish as a shamrock, a sweet talker and a nice guy. I’m better at getting pregnant than I am at making birth control work, and he was better at getting me there than at being a father. He offered to marry me, but his heart wasn’t in it, and neither was mine, although he did come to the delivery and hold my hand.”

He pretended to shudder. “He can’t be all bad. That’s more than I could ever do, even for you.”

She punched him lightly on the arm. “Anyway, if I ever tie the knot, I don’t intend to drag my girls around from one high-stakes poker game to another.”

“The girls’ fathers don’t see much of them?”

“A couple of times a year. If I’d chosen them, I’d say I hadn’t chosen well. But I really didn’t go into those relationships with motherhood on my mind. I probably didn’t think about babies much before Hannah, but when I did, I saw myself settled, madly in love, tying climbing roses to a picket fence. The whole unrealistic fairy tale. Of course, I wasn’t doing anything to get myself there. I wasn’t picket-fence material, that’s for sure.”

“And now that you are?”

She laughed. “Not counting on it, not counting it out. The girls and I have so much to look forward to, whether I meet the right person or not.”

“What would the right person look like?”

“I guess he’d know how to prune my roses. And be a father to my girls. And show up in the delivery room if he was needed.”

He grinned at the last. “All in all, that’s a pretty small order.”

“Maybe one with a chance of being filled, maybe not. I really don’t think about it. I think more about preventing another dead-end relationship. I’m not lonely.”

“And you don’t have trouble finding men if you get that way.”

“Truthfully, no. But I’m not into casual sex.”

“There’s that word again.”

“A perfectly good word, but for such a little one, it’s fraught with meaning and anxiety, isn’t it?”

“Sure is.” Cashel Orchard was just ahead, and he made the final turn. “Was that a warning?”

She phrased her answer carefully. “Not meant to be. Let’s face it, I’m not at my most ravishing, and unless I saw a complete health report on a man, with test results for any number of possibilities, I wouldn’t get near him. I’m not risking the health of these babies for anything.”

“Makes sense to me. Where do I take my physical?” He looked over and grinned at her expression. “Just kidding.”

“We’re taking care of business very efficiently, aren’t we?”

“You’re making your will known, and that’s your right. But for the record, you
are
at your most ravishing. Maybe a few more months will turn that tide. But right now, you’re a knockout.”

She put her hand on his arm. It had already rested there earlier tonight. After dinner they had danced three slow dances before he suggested that they leave, because cigarette smoke was drifting in from the entrance, and she was starting to wear down. Cash was a good dancer. Not flashy. Not pushy. He’d held her just right, not too close but definitely not too far away. She had enjoyed the feel of his body against hers, moving slowly and sinuously. In fact, she had enjoyed it just a bit too much for someone who had months of celibacy ahead of her.

And that was intriguing in its own way. She really wasn’t into casual sex, but now her definition of casual went deeper and further. Sex really was out of the question until after the twins were born. If she were in a committed relationship with a safe partner, things might be different. But she wasn’t, and she wasn’t willing to begin one now.

“I’m not the best bargain out there, am I?” She dropped her hand. “I really will understand if you’d like to let me off at Grace’s and forget you ever knew me.”

“But I
do
know you. And I like what I know, though I’m not some kid who’s keeping score.”