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  I drop my purse on Haley’s chair. I peruse the table tent, advertising all the fattening chocolate creations posing as coffee drinks, and mentally calculate how many miles Haley’d have to run to enjoy one, guilt-free. I wonder what the ratio is to one of Haley’s tubs o’ frosting. Is it more miles or fewer?

  Looking up toward the window, I see him. It’s been years. Nine? Ten? Every muscle in my body goes lax, while the butterflies in my stomach soar to new heights. He looks exactly the same. He makes me feel exactly the same. Not a thing has changed. My heart aches to run out of my loneliness and into his arms, but reality hits me like a sledgehammer. I remain firmly planted in my chair, sliding the table tent and my handbag in front of me, while I peer around them, like I practiced as a hallway-stalking schoolgirl. For a moment, I’m lost in his rugged profile—his slightly crooked nose, the solid, angled jaw and that perfect chin. It’s amazing how seeing an old flame when you’re fresh from pain can negate every reason you broke up with him in the first place.

  He watches Haley for a moment of unbridled narcissism. I wonder if he doesn’t recognize the similarity between us with our long, blond hair. He looks down at his work boots, as though he’s avoiding the view, and my hope sinks that he’s forgotten what happened. Why would God allow my house of cards to fall today? Besides God and my mother, Jake is the only person who knows what I did. All of it—the whole sordid tale. The butterflies quickly morph into something more like bats.

  “Linds? You okay?” Haley puts my iced soy latte in front of me. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

  I can’t bring myself to stop looking, but I close my eyes and capture it in my memory. I will remember this moment and be glad for it. What would my life have been like with him? I mouth my words of thankfulness.

  “Do you know him?” Haley asks, looking toward the line where Jake is still waiting for his coffee.

  I tear my gaze away and nod. “I think he’s someone I went to high school with. You know, back in the day.” I try to laugh.

  “No way. He looks too old. Either that, or he can’t afford La Mer.”

  “He’s hardly the type to smear moisturizing cream on his face. You’ve been out of the real world too long.”

  “Simmer down; it was a joke. I’m only saying you don’t look like you could have gone to high school with him. It’s a compliment. Maybe he just looks like someone.” She slides into her chair, hanging her handbag over the back.

  “He’s not wearing a wedding ring. My mother said he got married.”

  “I thought you didn’t talk to your mother?”

  “She mailed me that little tidbit. Another nail in my coffin, if you will.”

  “What a peach your mother must be. Maybe he’s divorced. Or did you ever date him? Maybe he’s sworn off women for good now.” Haley giggles.

  “Not funny.”

  “Why don’t you go talk to him? Do you have a reunion coming up? I must say, he’s a hot ticket. Dark hair, brown eyes…you are single, you know?”

  “They’re blue.” I inhale a long sip of my iced coffee. “Blue-green. His father had them, too.”

  “You seem to know a lot about him for just being a classmate.” She leans in. “Are you holding out on me?”

  “It’s not juicy. Not in a good way, anyway. Haley, I have a confession to make.” I move my seat over, so she’s blocking my view of Jake.

  “This sounds serious.”

  His cell phone trills, and I hear his deep voice answer. I close my eyes again and concentrate on his voice for a moment, before looking at Haley again.

  “You’re killing me. What did you do already?”

  “I did something terrible when I was younger.”

  “Terrible, as in you killed someone and stuffed him in a closet? Or terrible as in you said you’d go to prom with someone and then dumped him? There was no pig’s blood involved, right?”

  “It’s somewhere in the middle, and I think that Ron—”

  Haley is looking at Jake when he suddenly heads toward us. “Shh! He’s coming over here!” Haley sits back in her chair, like she’s about to watch a romantic movie unfold. If only she knew that it was probably more of a horror flick in the making.

  He sidles toward us, talking into his phone, and then he sees me. Our eyes meet, and once again, the past dissipates and I am not so very naïve, not so very worn down. I am me. Today’s me. I know what I want and I tell him so, and we laugh about all the mistakes, all the misunderstandings, and he’s over it. He understands me.

  Or not.

  He stops walking, and I look down at the work boots he wears, the length of his jeans spilling over the top of them. I lift my eyes back to his, and he offers a warm smile, that charming dimple on the left side appearing as he looks to Haley. My smile wavers. I stand up, and I meet his Ceylon sapphire gaze.

  “Lindsay,” he says coolly as he nods his chin, steps around me, and saunters right out the door.

  Haley watches him slam the door, and my confession hardly matters now, does it? “It wasn’t him, I guess.”

  She giggles at me. “He just knew your name and gave you a dirty look?”

  I shrug. “Weird, isn’t it?”

  “We have got to get you back on the market before you go completely nuts.”

  Lord have mercy. Lindsay Brindle on the market is more than L.A. needs.

  Chapter 4

  Jane

  My head just aches with all this paperwork. Ron hid money everywhere, like a human, banking pack rat. I can almost see him sniveling as he said, “Let’s see if she can find this account.” Now it’s me who is the rat, lost in the maze that is his will. The lawyer’s work is done, and now it’s a matter of approving everything. Ron easily could have hired yet another lawyer to do this, but when I see the blue envelope stashed among the information, I know I have my answer as to why he didn’t. I slice open the envelope with his engraved letter opener and sit back in his brown leather office chair. Honestly, when did he have time to do all this? He might have been around in Victorian days when the written letter was still the dispatch of choice. I get married once in life, and I had to find a Shakespearean accountant whose legacy is determined to be in script.

  “Ron, if only you had been this interesting when you were alive, I might have never left.”

  Dear Jane,

  If you are reading this, I am dead and gone, and you, you are in California, where you belong. You will have met Lindsay by now, as this was my plan. As a man who got very little he wanted in life, I made sure I’d be fulfilled in death, and if I am capable, I am smiling from above. This is why I hid everything in the condominium. (Aren’t I clever?) Isn’t my Lindsay a dream? She made my years so happy, saw me through thick and thin—even the drink, when I had another bout with it. Don’t let her frail appearance fool you; she’s tough as a wolverine and smart, too. I had a good life with her, and I hope that gives you some comfort.

  All is forgiven, dear Jane. I realize you most likely believe that I brought you here to punish you, but I assure you, I did not. I brought you here to force reconciliation, and I know you will be blessed for your efforts. A man needs to be known by his father, and Ron Jr. needs to know the truth. I have left him a considerable amount of money, here in these bonds. Bonds I purchased when he was a baby and I thought I’d raise him as my own. Naturally, you broke my heart when you left with him, but I imagine the fault was as much my own for interceding where I probably should not have. Over the years, I have prayed over my actions many times, and I am sorry if I took advantage of the situation. To possess a woman like you—and yes, as a young man I thought possession was my right—was more joy than I could hope for.

  You were right to leave, and I paid for you going, but so has Ron Jr. No matter what kind of life you gave him, you need to give him a father, no matter how awful the truth. A man has a hole there, where his father should be, and you have no right to say it doesn’t exist. I beg of you, Jane. Humble yourself before God and do the right thing.<
br />
  With everlasting love,

  Ron

  “I’m not telling him a thing, Ron, and you’re not here to control any longer. I’ll go to my grave with it.” I crumple up the blue missive and shove it in my pocket. If Ron meant for me to tell the truth, he did himself a disservice giving Ron Jr. the bonds. It only builds my case. Proof that he was my son’s father.

  I feel sick to my stomach, pondering more lies. It doesn’t bother me, except when I have to do it directly to Ronnie. His big, green eyes and their tenderness are something any mother would be proud of. He has learned a great deal from living out my mistakes and grown into the man I’d hoped he’d become. One mistake ruined the course of my life, but it’s the many lies since that have made his more difficult. Some days, I wish I could be free of it. I only ever thought of myself, and who wants to look back and see the shambles they’ve made of their life? I’ll do what I can to spare Ronnie more pain. If I can swallow the pain for some thirty-plus years, I can certainly gulp down whatever I have remaining.

  The doorbell rings and I try to well up enough rage about being here to forget all of this busy work ahead of me. I throw the papers back into its bulging, brown folder, along with yet another blue letter, and cinch the rust-colored string around the button.

  Running down the circular staircase, I skid through the blue, glass-tiled foyer, which is something like that children’s book The Rainbow Fish come to life, and I reach the door. Kuku wraps around my legs and vibrates with happiness. I open the door and practically explode.

  “Ronnie!” He embraces me tightly in his muscular arms before I pull back. “Let me look at you. You’re just more gorgeous with every year on you!” I grab him up again.

  “Hey, Mama! Betcha didn’t expect to run into me here.”

  “You bad boy.” I whack his arm. “You told me you’d be away! Shame on you. How did you—”

  “Hamilton Lowe called me and told me the will was finally getting processed. I knew that meant you got my message. Smart man, that Hamilton, to have tracked me down like he did. He knew I’d lead him to you.” He smiles, and everything within me feels like Kuku purring at my feet. Ron Jr. is by far, the best thing I ever did.

  “How did you know how to find me?”

  “I knew where Daddy lived,” he says with sarcasm in his voice.

  “Don’t call him that!”

  “He shares my name. We live ten miles apart. It was ridiculous to act like he didn’t exist. Besides, I wanted to see what he’d made of his life. Wouldn’t you be curious?”

  “Did you…did you ever speak to him?”

  “Never got the chance. I did go to his funeral, though. People at his church had fantastic things to say about him. Of course, he was dead; what else are they gonna say?”

  I feel the weight of the world pressing down on me. “I need to sit down. Would you like something to drink? I don’t know if Lindsay has anything besides wheatgrass, but it’s worth offering. I can always get you a water.”

  “So this is where the little woman lives, huh?”

  “She made your father very happy.”

  “I’m sure she did! What hot blonde in her twenties wouldn’t make an old, shriveled-up man happy?” Ron’s momentarily hard expression turns back into a smile. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m not talking like a good, Christian man, am I? Every time I think I’ve made peace with the past, something else happens, and I go right back into the same old thoughts. I want to lay it on the altar and be done with it once and for all. Maybe having this all over with is my answer.” He walks into the foyer, studying the rooms where Ron’s young wife lives. He looks so much like his father, and I know there might not be much time left. I need to tell him the truth. I owe him that much.

  Christian. I swear that was Ron’s legacy on the boy, praying him into a religion that keeps women in their place. The investigator found proof of Ron Jr., and that’s how they finally found me. Interesting that Hamilton didn’t let the truth out to Lindsay. One has to love that client privilege!

  I lead him to the couch. “It seems Ron left you a great deal of money in bonds. He’s also left you the big house in Pacific Palisades, from what I can tell. It’s going to be a much bigger responsibility than we’d planned for.”

  My son laughs. “What am I going to do with a house in Pacific Palisades? As if I could pay the water bill, much less the taxes on it. I thought you said most of it was left to his alma mater.”

  “That’s what he’d told me before I saw the actual will, but darling, he was like a human pack rat. He stashed money everywhere. When it comes to diversifying, Ron Brindle was his own stock exchange. He did think of you. Very generously, it seems. You can always sell the house and buy something appropriate for a teacher. You can put the rest in your retirement or into the school down in Mexico. It’s really a nice gift for you.”

  “Well, if he’s trying to dissuade his guilt, I want no part of it.”

  “Spoken like the proud son I raised, but not a very practical one. You live in California, remember? Something about the million-dollar fixer-uppers ring a bell?” I make light of his comment, but I know my son could easily turn his back on this money, on everything Ron may have left to him. I’d chalk his religious beliefs up to genetics, if he were truly Ron’s son—as it is, I have no idea where he gets this deep-seated religion of his. If he only knew how hard I worked to make sure he had his future set before him, he would never turn his back on this inheritance.

  “My father made his thoughts of me quite clear during his lifetime. It’s too late now. Besides, I’m not here to talk about him. I came to catch up. And to tell you that I’ve met a woman.”

  I shiver and wrap my arms about me. Something about this lie gets harder now that Ron is gone and not here to defend himself. He came up with the deception. He sought to protect everyone from natural consequences, but now as the chips fall, Ron is long gone and the rest of us are left to deal with the crimes of thirty years ago.

  “Did you say a woman?” I’m pulled back into the present.

  My heart bursts with joy. I can only hope she’s good enough for him and she’ll give my baby everything he could want in a future. I promised myself early on that I would be a good mother-in-law. Not the sort who offered unsolicited advice about parenting or meddled where it wasn’t their place.

  He grins. “Yes, Mom. A woman. Does that surprise you?”

  “Is it serious?” I ask, which shows incredible self-control. What I want to ask is when are my grandbabies coming? I picture myself being the picture of contentment with my grandchildren around my feet. It’s the dream that I will finally be settled.

  Ron shrugs. “It might be. We’ve only been seeing each other for four months, but Mom, she’s just beautiful. She’s got long, dark hair and a perfect, petite figure. She runs, she bike rides, and she does Pilates twice a week. I’m not sure what that is, but it keeps her in great shape, and she loves the Lord.”

  “And her personality?” I ask.

  “She’s a sweet, gentle, Christian woman.”

  “Ron.” I smile in my most motherly fashion. “I asked about her, and you’ve given me the best résumé for a personal trainer I can imagine. I haven’t heard much about her being wife material. The mother of my grandchildren…”

  “Well,” he pauses, his face scrunched in thought. “We like to do the same sorts of things. We’re both very active. Isn’t that important?”

  “It’s important, but it’s not everything. I just want to make sure you don’t—”

  “When I get married, Mom, it’s going to be for good.”

  Ouch.

  “It’s just that—well, it’s hard to be married, Ronnie, and I want to make sure you’re going about this in the right way. You’re still young, and I haven’t given you much in the way of a role model there.”

  “Mom, I’m thirty-six. That’s ancient in the church, just so you know.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re not planning the weddin
g just yet. We’re still getting to know each other, but I’m anxious for you to meet her. It’s not everyday you’re in Los Angeles.” He grins. “It’s not even every decade.”

  “You could have stayed in Mexico,” I remind him.

  “I practically am. Many of my students are just learning English. I’m where I belong. You can’t hold me back. I wonder where I get that trait from.”

  “I want to see you happy, that’s all.”

  I look at the clock on the wall and suddenly panic. I have no idea when Lindsay is due home, and I do not dare let her and Ronnie meet. The last thing I need is to offer more explanations. “Son, it was really great seeing you. I cannot wait to take you and this very special woman to dinner. You name the evening, and we will have a night to remember.” I pat him on the shoulders. “As soon as I’m done with the will’s details, I am all yours. The lawyers took care of most everything. It’s dotting the i’s from here on out.” I start to close the door, feeling desperate to tell him the truth and have this whole sordid thing behind me, but the truth would kill him.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” He pushes back on the door. “I haven’t seen you in a year! That paperwork can wait. You don’t have to do it all today. It’s me, Ronnie!”

  “Ronnie, I know it’s you, darling. There’s not a person on earth I’d rather be with, but I don’t want to lose my train of thought. You know how flighty your mother is. I just want to get all this work done so you can claim your rightful inheritance. Incidentally, you might want to keep it under wraps from this special lady that you’ve inherited a mansion until you have some sort of commitment.”

  “Mom, Kipling’s not like that.”

  “Kipling?” I hate this place.

  “Isn’t that a great name? It inspires adventure and the arts, don’t you think? I knew you’d love it.”

  “As long as my grandson isn’t named Mowgli, it’s a fine name.” I let the door close a little farther.

  “Mom,” he presses his palm to the door. “Why are you trying to get rid of me?” He pushes the door back open and steps into the foyer. “Do you have a man in there?” He looks at all the glass tiles and subtle shades of sparkling blue. “What happened in here? The little wife dating a tile guy? I don’t even want to know what the house I inherited looks like. A Peter Pan motif? Yet another reason not to claim it. Imagine the work to sell the place.”