A Weekend Getaway (15 page)

“Parker, let me explain,” she cried.

He laughed, a hollow laugh. “I’m going to be dead soon, but I
guess that’s not soon enough for you.”

Dropping the sheet, she came near him and hugged his rigid
back. “Parker, don’t say stuff like that.”

For once, his libido remained in check. Instead, sadness
consumed him. His wife was cheating on him and his daughter had asked him to
leave. After flying all the way to Texas, the reunion had been a bust. Not even
lasting more than a couple hours. He was suing the mother of his child. He was
dying.

Melancholy mixed with anger.

Ivy rubbed his back. “He means nothing to me. I love you. I
don’t know why I… He made me feel young, I guess.”

Although he didn’t reciprocate her caresses, he stayed. He
let her touch his back, rubbing circles across his shoulder blades. A lump
clogged his throat and he tried to swallow it. Hannah didn’t like him, Beth
probably hated him.

He let Ivy try to comfort him. Because he had no one else.

# # #

Beth knew Parker had flown out to meet their daughter
because Hannah had gushed about his impending visit on her blog. Beth checked
the site daily to gauge how Hannah was doing. Unfortunately, it sounded as if
things hadn’t gone well with Parker. In disbelief, Beth re-read the post she’d
seen yesterday.

All this man did was
try to buy me off and talk on his cell phone. I’m not even sure why he came to
see me. At first he seemed happy to discover that I existed, which was nice. I
was afraid he might ask for a DNA test or something tacky like that. But
besides competitive swimming, we don’t seem to have anything in common. My
adoptive father (whom I’ll refer to as my REAL DAD) and I had so much more
connecting us. We both loved taking hikes and trying to identify the bird calls
we heard or the wildflowers that grew along the trail. We both loved science,
especially physics and optics. And my real dad appreciated my art. How I take
pictures of butterflies and other things and turn them into mosaics.”
(She’d
posted a beautiful abstract photo done in blues and greens here).

Mom says art’s a nice
hobby, but I should focus on science for a career. I know logically, she’s
right. I mean, if all you care about is money. Which is apparently how my
biological father is. He showed up in a fancy car, I’m not sure what kind, and
he wore a Rolex watch and took me to a dumb jewelry store to buy me a dorky
diamond necklace. If he knew me at all, he’d know that I don’t like dressing
up. In fact, Mom and I are fighting
about
what I should wear to the upcoming art show. Here’s what she wants:
(photo
of pink frilly dress)
and here’s what I
want:
(photo of jeans and a T-shirt)
.
My biological father was such a disappointment. I guess I thought because I’d
lost my real dad, maybe finding this man would somehow fill the abyss. I have a
gigantic hole in my heart and now it feels even worse.

Reading about Hannah’s pain caused Beth’s chest to hurt. It
surprised her that Parker made such a bad impression because he’d never seemed
materialistic to her in college. But of course, that was years ago. He was a
self-made millionaire now.

If Hannah had a horrible experience meeting him, she
probably wouldn’t be eager to meet Beth. Beth took a deep breath. This was
killing her.

Her friend’s words echoed inside her head:
Don’t push, don’t push.
Parker had
tried too hard and it’d backfired.

After first reading the blog, she’d had an idea that she
hoped was more subtle. She’d scanned the Internet for some modern pantsuits and
attached them to an e-mail.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

What about something like this for your art show?

Just then her computer pinged with a new message. Seeing
Hannah’s name in her inbox made Beth smile. With a click of the mouse, she
could see her daughter’s response.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Not too bad. I like the burgundy one best. Thanks. Did I
tell you I won Best in Show?

Beth smiled even wider. She wasn’t very creative herself so
she truly admired the trait in others. If only Hannah would invite her to
visit. Beth quickly wrote a response.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Glad I could help. Congratulations! Could you send me a
picture of your award-winning piece? I’d love to see it.

###

“Take Ivy out of my will!” The nostalgic scent of Swisher
Sweet cigars did nothing to calm Parker as he paced inside his attorney’s
office. “Divide everything between the Huntington’s Foundation and Hannah
Taylor.”

Leaning back against his desk, Stan removed his reading
glasses. “Slow down. Take a seat.” He gestured toward a wing-backed chair. “Are
you sure about this? Have you even established paternity?”

Parker shook his head as he slid into the chair. “She’s
mine. I can tell.”

“You’re under duress. You want to believe that she’s yours.
But trust me, this could all be a scam to get your money.”

“She wouldn’t even let me buy her a necklace. She doesn’t
want my money. She doesn’t want anything from me.”

“Then why did she contact you?”

“I don’t know. Don’t adoptees often track down their
biological parents?” If so, had she asked to meet Beth, too? Had their meeting
been as awkward as his? Or did a mother and daughter have more of a natural
connection? He sighed.

Maybe if he’d known his daughter since birth, they’d be
closer and he wouldn’t have felt the need to impress her with his success.

Stan dropped his glasses on his paper-cluttered desk. “In
good conscience, I don’t feel comfortable changing your will without some more
evidence that this girl is related to you. Ivy has been your loyal wife for
what—fifteen years?”

Parker didn’t bother to correct the man’s math. “Loyal is
the last thing that bitch has been. I don’t want her to get anything. She
married me for my money and I was a fool to ever think otherwise.”

Stan took a seat next to him. “Parker, I’ve known you a long
time and I have to say, I’m noticing some personality changes in you lately.
Tell me what’s going on. You call me late at night, you ask me to sue somebody
you knew years ago, and now you want me to alter your will.”

Parker hadn’t told Stan about the diagnosis, but maybe it
was time. Stan might understand why he had to get his affairs in order, why his
daughter meant everything, and why he wanted to hurt the people who’d hurt him.
Facing one’s mortality clarified one’s priorities. People were either friends
or enemies.

Gathering his thoughts, Parker cracked his knuckles. He knew
Stan was like a lion stalking prey and he wouldn’t let up until Parker confessed.
“My doctor says I have Huntington’s disease.”

Stan’s mouth opened, but then he closed it. He always
regained his composure quickly. It was what Parker respected most about him.
“Is that what took your father?”

Parker nodded. “This is confidential, right?”

“Of course.”

“Because I haven’t told anyone at work. If word gets out, it
could kill Mall Land stock.” He drew in a full breath. He didn’t even want to
think about the business right now. “So of course I’m concerned about my will, now
more than ever. But Ivy deserves to be cut out. I caught her in bed this
weekend with some loser. He’s the piano player in her band, I think.” He’d seen
the man only once at a performance, but Parker had noticed the way Ivy had
stared at him in that stupid fedora. And Ivy often came home in the middle of
the night after her shows, smelling of cigarette smoke and another man’s sweat.
Why had Parker put up with her for so long?

Stan cleared his throat. “Sorry, man.” He paused as if
trying to show respect, though Parker could practically hear his bill for the
visit go up every time the clock on the wall ticked. “Do you want me to file
for divorce?”

Divorce. The word landed hard on his chest. His mother had stayed
with his dad despite his father’s growing temper, his losing his job, his need
for someone to nurse him. She’d taken her vows seriously and he admired her for
that. He came from a long line of marriages where one person got the short end
of the stick. No, Parker wouldn’t be the first in his family to divorce.

“There’s no need.” He would move into one of the guest rooms
and channel money from their joint account into his individual one. Within
weeks, he’d have all of the assets out of her grasp and she’d be none the
wiser. Ivy probably thought his death would be like hitting the lottery. No
doubt that’s why she hadn’t asked for a divorce herself. Damn her.
 

Stan studied him for a moment, then dropped his gaze to his
iPad. “Document everything she does, just in case you decide to file later.” He
tapped his screen. “If it’s all right to change the subject, you might like to
know that I heard from Bethany’s lawyer.”

Parker surveyed his middle-aged attorney. Graying temples, beady
eyes,
a
little paunch beneath his tailored navy suit.
“She has a lawyer?”

“Well, she won’t be much of a match for me in court. She
works for legal aid.”

“Oh, I bet that’s her mom. She was in pre-law when Beth and
I were in college.”

“She wants to know if you’re willing to drop the lawsuit. I
told her absolutely not.”

Parker took a deep breath. He didn’t need the money. He’d
only wanted to hurt Beth the way she’d hurt him. Now he had the pain of knowing
he had a daughter who didn’t like him. All because of Beth. “How long before we
can get a court date?”

“Probably a year. If we went through mediation, that could
get scheduled a little sooner.”

A year. Every day was precious now. Did he really want to
spend any of those days locked in a courtroom? Would his mind even be as sharp
a year from now?

Again, Parker cracked his knuckles, something he hadn’t done
much since college. He’d broken himself of the habit because he didn’t like to
give his employees or opponents any insight into his stress level. But every
time he thought about what Beth had cheated him out of, his blood boiled. He’d
missed his only chance to be somebody’s dad.

Beth and Ivy had done him wrong. “Schedule mediation and
change the will. I want them both to suffer.”

# # #

With a plastic basket hooked over her elbow, Beth headed
toward the back of the local pharmacy to the vitamin aisle. Even though Healthy
Habits was strictly mail-order, this was the competition. Shelves from the
floor up to eye-level displayed dark bottles with lots of writing on the
labels. No pictures on the labels. No sweepstakes entries. No company was even
trying to set themselves apart. Picking up a dark green plastic bottle, she
studied the child-proof cap and shook her head. Boring.

She selected bottles from several different companies and
placed them into her basket. For research.

On her way toward the exit, she passed a glass display case
filled with cologne bottles. It triggered a memory. Sarah loved perfume and had
tried to convince her in college that every woman should have a signature
scent. Maybe Beth should give her a bottle as a thank you for all of her support.
Past and present.

She paused to search and couldn’t help wondering if Hannah
had a special fragrance. If only Beth knew, she could send her a bottle.

A fifty-something woman with blue eye shadow and a white lab
coat stepped behind the counter. “May I help you find something?”

A sea of scents overwhelmed Beth. Vanilla, pine, musk. “Do
you have Clinique’s Happy Heart? That’s my friend’s favorite.”

The woman searched through the decorative glass bottles. She
shook her head. “I don’t see it. How about this?” She sprayed a squirt from a
bottle that looked like a tiny crystal vase. A rose was etched on the glass in
front of the amber liquid. “It’s new.”

Beth inhaled and smiled. A light citrus mixed with floral
notes. “That’s lovely. But perfume is such a personal thing. Just because I
like it doesn’t mean she will.”

The woman nodded. “I understand. What about for you?”

Beth pondered that for a minute. She didn’t have a signature
scent because she’d never found one she liked as well as this one. She raised
her wrist to her nose one more time. Breathing deeply, she smiled. “I think
that’s a great idea.”

“I can ring up your other purchases if you like.”

Beth placed the plain vitamin bottles on the glass counter
next to the decorative perfume bottles. And she had an epiphany.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

You’re a lifesaver. Mom agreed to the pantsuit instead of
making me wear a frilly dress. Are you a tomboy like me?

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Yes, I am a tomboy. However, you are a million times
prettier than I ever was.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Would you send me a picture of yourself? What you looked
like at my age and what you look like now?

Beth stared at the screen. Photos were her nemesis. When
you’re overweight, the last thing you needed was for the camera to add ten
pounds. She took a deep breath. Her daughter was reaching out to her! So what
if she’d see how homely Beth was. Beth had grown up with a beautiful mother and
that hadn’t been easy. Always hearing: “Oh, you must take after your father,
huh?”

Making her way to her closet, she couldn’t stop her gaze from
landing on the box where she kept the adoption info. As always, guilt surged
inside of her. Shaking away the emotion, she reached for a nearby shoebox
labeled “pictures.” She sat down on the floor and dug through the jumble. A
picture of her childhood pet rabbit named Fluffy. A photo of her father’s stone
church with springtime flowers in bloom. Tons of embarrassing school photos
where her weight puffed her cheeks in a way that caused kids to call her
“Buffalo Bethany.” She tossed those aside until she found a snapshot of her
opening a Christmas present at age sixteen, her body mostly covered with
wrapping paper and a boxed set of Star Trek videos. After she scanned it into
the computer, she took a photo of herself with her digital camera. She attached
both pictures and sent them off. Then she waited for a reply.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

It’s hard to tell in the picture. Do you have brown eyes,
too? Green and blue eyes run in the Taylor family and I always felt left out
with my brooding brown eyes. I hoped you and I might look alike, but maybe
biology isn’t as important as one might think. Parker and I share some
features, but we barely have anything in common. Adoptive kids often feel
curious, and I admit, I felt it a little bit, but now I know better. It’s
nature versus nurture and obviously nurture is what matters. Please don’t take
this the wrong way. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m saying you did the
right thing by giving me to my parents.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

When you were born, you had blue eyes like me, but I
remember the nurse told me that your eyes could change color. Your brown eyes
must be from Parker’s side of the family. I’m sorry things didn’t go the way
you’d hoped with Parker. He never had any kids so he was probably awkward with
you because of that.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Whatever. Thanks, though, for telling me who my biological
father is. It’s good to know that information. Maybe in a few years, I’ll want
to try and reconnect with him. For now, it just feels weird.

Beth’s chest tightened. Hannah assumed she could do
everything on her own time schedule. She still didn’t know the truth.

Well, that was Parker’s problem.

Focusing on her breathing, she tried to convince herself.
But her mind returned to those books on suicide that Ivy had found in his
closet. The disease might not take his life for a decade but who knew how long
before he took matters into his own hands? That would be a terrible loss for
Hannah.

One more deep breath. For courage.

Beth dialed the long-distance phone number, hoping Hannah
wouldn’t answer. If she was like most teenagers, she’d be chatting with her
friends on her cell phone and wouldn’t bother to answer the land line.

“Hello?” a friendly female voice answered.

“Mrs. Taylor?” Her voice cracked.

“Who is this?”

Beth cleared her throat. “Bethany Morris.” She heard the
woman gasp and Beth rushed to soothe her. “I don’t know if Hannah told you, but
we’ve been e-mailing each other.”

“What?” Her tone had changed. Angry. Defensive.

Beth tightened her grip on the phone, desperate to find the
right words. “You’ve raised a wonderful young lady. I don’t know how to say
this, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You’ve been communicating with my daughter behind my back?”

“No, not exactly. I just read her blog and commented. Then
she and I started writing back and forth.”

“I don’t know what your game is, but I don’t appreciate your
talking to Hannah without my knowledge.”

Beth pinched the bridge of her nose. This conversation had
gone off the rails. “I didn’t mean anything by it, but we did agree that you’d
tell her about me.”

“She knows about you. She’s known for a long time, but she
never expressed any interest in you.” Bitterness accented each word.

Beth’s shoulder muscles clenched. “I didn’t mean to do
anything to upset you. Hannah has questions about her biological parents.
That’s only normal.”

“Don’t’ tell me what’s normal! I’ve been her mother for
sixteen years!”

Beth chewed on her lower lip. Mrs. Taylor had seemed so warm
and even-tempered when they’d met all of those years ago. Now the woman scolded
Beth as if she were a predator stalking Hannah on-line. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

In the background she heard footsteps. It sounded like a
refrigerator door closed with a thump. An adolescent girl’s voice said, “We’re
out of Pepsi, Mom.”

It had to have been Hannah.

Beth’s stomach twisted.
Mom.
The girl said it so casually. The title Beth had thrown away. Now, she’d give
anything to be called that.

The woman’s voice lowered. “I’ve got to go.”
Click.

“But. . .” Beth listened to the cruel dial tone for a moment.
Finally, she hung up the phone and rubbed her throbbing temples.

As Beth drove to Healthy Habits the next morning in the cold
November rain, the windshield wipers swished back and forth hypnotically, and
she decided to pour herself into her career. Work was her best chance for
accomplishing something that she could feel good about. Work had always been a
respite from her inadequate personal life. And she needed a respite now more
than ever.

She hung her beige trench coat over the chair in her cubicle,
tucked her I.U. umbrella under her desk and carried the pharmacy bag to Luke’s
office. She rapped on his closed door. When he yelled, “Come in,” she smoothed
her palm against the front of her slacks in a last-minute primp. She turned the
knob and entered.

The foggy sky outside his window made his office seem dim.
He stood behind his desk, doing squats while checking e-mail. “I hope the rain
clears up by the weekend. I’m running a 10K.”

She took her usual seat and wondered what it was like to
possess boundless energy. “At least it’s not snowing.” Not yet anyway.

“True. So, what’s in the bag?” He continued to squat and
stand, shrink and grow.

Smiling in anticipation, she pulled out the faceted glass
bottles. “I’ve figured out how to set our vitamins apart.” She lined the pink,
blue and yellow decanters across his desk. “Vitamin bottles are plain and
boring. Every single brand. Well, why not make them beautiful like perfume
bottles?”

He raised up into his full six foot and two inch, lanky
frame and picked up the bottle with a rose etched on it. He squinted at it,
causing his tiny mole to move. “My grandmother had a whole vanity covered with
perfume bottles. I remember my grandfather accusing her of buying them not
because she needed them, but because she liked the way they looked.” He turned
his attention to another bottle with beveled edges.

“My grandma did, too. She collected them. Even empty ones
she found at estate sales.”

He spritzed the bottle’s contents to the side, filling the
air with a subtle floral scent. His nose scrunched in disapproval.

Time to turn on her inner salesperson. “Women are our
biggest customers. They care about aesthetics. They redecorate when they get
bored, they buy clothes based on the latest fashion trends and they color their
hair. Looks are important to them.” She decided not to add the fact that the
brothers running the company didn’t grasp the female perspective very well.

Worry lined his forehead. “Not all women are like that.”

“No, of course not. But I think it’s safe to say, in
general, that women are more likely to buy something they think is pretty than
something that’s ugly.”

“Even though Nature Made beat us to the punch with spray
vitamins, we could combine that concept with a bottle nice enough to leave on
display.”

Giddiness danced through her body. “Exactly!” Her lips
pulled into a grin.

He sprayed a curvy bottle.

The sweet, soothing aroma of vanilla tickled her nose. It
made her long for homemade sugar cookies.

“I’ve never seen anyone else do something with the bottle.”

“And we could do different colors. Vitamin D could be yellow
like the sun, Vitamin C could be red like apples.”

He handled each bottle, taking in its shape and overall
appearance. “It’s perfect!”

“You think so?”

“I’ll pitch it at Thursday’s meeting.”

For a moment, her air supply seemed cut. “Can I come? I’d
like to be there. I could even do some research on the correlation between
visual attractiveness and women’s purchasing behavior. There’s a reason
everything from cars to laptops comes in different colors.” She reached to put
the bottles back in her bag.

He raised his hand. “Leave them here. As far as I’m
concerned, you should definitely attend the pitch session. And bring the
supporting data.”

Outside the window, a beam of sunshine pushed its way
through the clouds. Beth’s heart lifted as she made her way out of his office.

She couldn’t wait to tell Drew the good news. She hustled
down the hall toward the computer engineering department. His door was closed,
so she knocked.

No answer.

She tried the handle. Locked.

Hmm. That was odd. She bent over and noticed the light
wasn’t on inside.

Someone’s footfalls clicked behind her. “Looking for Drew?”

Beth turned to see one of the IT guys with acne scars. “Do
you know where he is?”

He nodded. “He went home sick. The flu, I think.”

“Oh, no.” Before she said anything more, the IT guy walked
away. Social skills definitely were not a strong suit in this department.

Worried about Drew, she found her way back to her cubicle.
Things had been strained since he announced he might not ever want kids, but
she couldn’t just shut off her feelings for him. She dialed home.

He didn’t pick up. When the machine answered, she left a
message. “Sorry to hear you’re not feeling well. Call me at work if you want me
to bring home any medicine or chicken noodle soup.”

She hung up and looked around. The call center remained
fairly quiet that morning, which meant she could start on research right away.
She sat behind her computer and opened up her browser. Her inbox had several
new messages.

Her heartbeat sped up when she recognized a name. Hannah had
sent her something.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

I know it’s short notice, but how would you like to come to
my art show this Friday? Mom thought maybe you and Parker should both be here.
That way I can get all of my questions answered at once.

A thrill zipped through her. She clapped her hands. All of
her patience had paid off. She did a little dance in her chair. Until she
noticed the new girl, with a headset wrapped over her brunette hair, staring at
her.

What a day! Beth had to talk to somebody. She had to share
her good news.

But she also needed privacy. What she wouldn’t give to get
promoted and have four walls and a door. She grabbed her coat and cell phone.
Once she made it down the stairs to the first floor, she looked outside to make
sure it hadn’t started raining again. The pavement puddles shone in the
sunlight, but the rain had stopped. With a smile on her face, she pushed open
the glass doors to the windy parking lot.

Standing close to the brick building, she dialed Sarah. “Hannah
wants to meet me! Thank you, thank you for your good advice.”

“Slow down. Tell me everything.” In the background she could
hear dishes clanking together as if Sarah were unloading the dishwasher. Kids’
voices danced in the distance. The sounds of a happy family.

“I’ve been e-mailing Hannah. Trying to keep it casual, like
you suggested. Secretly, I was desperate that she’d invite me. After all, she
wanted to meet Parker.” Car engines roared by on the adjacent street, so Beth
plugged her free ear. “I guess the thing with Parker was a disaster.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure. Hannah felt disappointed that they didn’t
click or something. Probably her expectations were too high since she’d been
close to her adoptive father.”

“Excuse me a minute.” Sarah muffled the phone and spoke to
one of her kids, telling them to take the dog for a walk. “I’m back. So you’re
going to meet her.”

“Yes. The odd thing is that she’s inviting Parker, too.”

“Interesting.” She paused as if thinking. “Too bad the two
of you are attached to other people. I always thought you’d make a cute
couple.”

Beth felt as if the air had been knocked out of her. She
squeezed the phone tightly. “You did?” Beth assumed she’d been the only one
fantasizing that they’d make a good pair. The handsome gentleman and the frumpy
girl in a baseball cap. The outgoing club president and the girl who
volunteered for every committee but never chaired one.