Careful What You Kiss For (24 page)

Carl was following a trail that indicated Burns and his son might be behind two non-profit organizations — one called “Citizens for the Arts” and another called “Save our City” — that had recently donated to three political campaigns. “Somethin’ must be goin’ on,” Carl said as he rifled through papers on his desk. “A guy like that doesn’t give a shit about the city or the arts, unless he’s gettin’ some kind of cover charge for it.”

Max felt anticipation ripple up his spine, the same feeling he always got when pieces of a puzzle began falling together. “Which political campaigns?”

“Too soon. Haven’t connected all the dots yet.”

Max leaned forward, pressing his hands hard into the wood of Carl’s desk. “Don’t care. Tell me.”

Carl sat back, chewing on the end of his pen, his gaze cool and steady. “Moss for Mayor. Digman and Walker for City Council.”

“Moss, Digman and Walker,” Max repeated. “Interesting.”

“I thought so.” Carl took the pen out of his mouth, leaving an ink mark on his upper lip a lot like the one Rhonda had had. “But interesting doesn’t get you very far in court.”

“I saw a guy at the club,” Max shook his head, thinking, “that I know I’ve seen before. High up somewhere. No way he should have been there. Maybe he’s tied in to this somehow.”

“Name,” Carl barked. “Gimme a name.”

“Don’t
have
one yet. Weren’t you listening?”

Carl tapped his pen against his forehead. “I myself have a great memory. Most detectives do.”

The guy was a dick and not just in the cop lingo way. What had Rhonda ever seen in him? “I’ll remember who he is,” Max muttered.

“Yeah, I’m not holdin’ my breath.”

Max stood. “Good. Never know what might happen, at your age.”

Carl glared at him.

“I’m leaving.” Max rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Work to do.”

“Get outta here,” Carl growled. “You’re botherin’ me.”

Max stopped when he reached the door, curling his fingers around the jamb. He looked back over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing we can pin on the weasel, yet.”

Max’s voice scraped gravel. “I’ll get something.”

The creases in Carl’s face deepened. “What’s your deal with him, anyway?”

Max’s fingers gripped the door harder. “Just doing my job. That’s all.” He left before Carl could pick up anything on his face that said that wasn’t the half of it.

• • •

Tensley dried her hair as Stinky watched and Blinky turned in circles, apparently trying to figure out where the whirring sound was coming from. Gemini had taken refuge in the guest bedroom.

The more she thought about who had taken her rightful place at Tanner, Inc., the more determined she was to find out. It was simple. She’d go see her mother, and ask.

Of course, nothing having to do with Esme Tanner had ever been simple. But somehow, the woman would have to see that Tensley belonged with the company. Whatever had happened between them would have to be forgiven.

Esme only had one child. And Tensley only had one mother. Blood will out. Or … something like that.

She finished drying her hair and quickly applied her makeup, propelled by an urgency to be gone before Kate came home and tried talking sense to her. Tensley couldn’t afford to be sensible right now.

She stepped into Kate’s room and flipped through hanger after hanger of clothing until she found a tailored, conservative suit that Kate probably wore to veterinarian conferences. The shade of blue went well with Tensley’s hair and the fit wasn’t bad, given her altered body. She turned one way and then the other in the full-length mirror, hoping the unwritten best friend rule they’d always followed still applied — my clothes are your clothes until death, distance or unacceptable fashion taste do us part.

“Wish me luck,” she told the dogs, who had followed her in. They looked as convinced as she was that this would be a good move. “Come on, you guys. She’s my
mother
. How bad can it be?” Her pulse pounded out an answer.

Blinky turned and left, followed by Stinky, his nails clicking on the hardwood.

“Thanks for the support,” Tensley called.

She turned back to the mirror, tugging on the jacket that was a little too big in the waist and a little too small in the chest. Her new boobs stretched the fabric into a gap. From the corner of her eye, she spied Kate’s handbag collection and grabbed a large, flat Michael Kors bag to hold in front of her. “That’ll work.”

As long as she didn’t lower it, she wouldn’t have to see her mother’s left eyebrow arch in displeasure.

Tensley had spent a lot of her life fending off that eyebrow arch. Even the
thought
of seeing it made her stomach turn over.

So she did the only thing she could. She shot out of the apartment before she could think any more about the wisdom of what she was about to do.

• • •

Tanner, Inc. had offices in a tall downtown building with a sweeping staircase below and a helicopter pad above. As a little girl, Tensley had been intimidated by it. As a woman, she found its size and seeming immobility somewhat comforting. Anything that large, with that much invested in it, would go on forever, wouldn’t it?

But she knew better. Even if her mother didn’t.

Now as she stood before the building, holding Kate’s handbag tight against her chest in an attempt to slow the hammering of her heart, she could only think about the woman at the company’s helm and what she would have to say to an estranged daughter. A daughter who quite possibly had brought unimaginable shame, in Esme’s eyes, anyway, upon the storied family name.

One innocent visit to a psychic and everything’s shot to hell.

Tensley cleared her throat, drew her shoulders back and held her chin high. Then she walked toward the building and through the wide glass doors that opened with a whoosh.

Once in the lobby, her heart lifted at the familiar sight of the gray-haired, grandfatherly security guard who’d come on board a few years ago. The two of them had a routine. Every morning, he’d greet her with a huge smile and a, “How are you today, Miss Tensley?” She’d say a cheery hello and lift her Starbucks cup in greeting. He’d tell her, with a grin, that too much coffee was bad for her. She’d reply that she could never have too much. He’d shake his head and then touch his finger to his head in a little salute.

And she’d know everything was going to be fine that day. One way or another.

But today, he didn’t say anything to her. She lifted her hand, minus the cup of coffee, and called, “Good morning, Arthur!”

His brows drew together. “Good morning, miss,” he responded, his tone dutiful.

Arthur didn’t recognize her.
Arthur
. Her heart sank. Despite the odds, she’d hoped he would.

She headed for the elevators. The security guard stepped in front of her. “Do you have an appointment, miss?”

Tensley hesitated. “I — ” She looked away, not meeting his eyes. “Don’t need one.”

“Can I have you check in with the young lady over here, please?” Arthur gestured toward a receptionist with a blonde ponytail, who bounced to life at his direction. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Esme Tanner.”

The young woman picked up the phone. “Your name, please.”

Once again, Tensley straightened her shoulders. “Tensley Tanner-Starbrook. Her daughter.”

The receptionist blinked. “Her daughter?” It didn’t seem to register with her.

Fear shivered through Tensley. It wasn’t possible that Madame Claire could have erased her parentage, along with everything else … was it?
Oh God, oh God, oh —

Arthur stepped over at that, indicating the receptionist should put the phone down. “I’ve got this,” he said to her.

Of course, Tensley thought with relief. Esme’s daughter wouldn’t have to be announced.

Other people walked past them, heading toward the elevators with the cool confidence of those who belonged. One woman called out, “Hi, Arthur.” He gave her a smile and the one-finger salute Tensley had thought belonged to her. Then his expression turned grave. He took Tensley’s elbow.

For a second, she thought he was going to apologize, tell her it was all a mistake and how glad he was to see her back. The next second, she realized he was escorting her toward the front doors. “Wait a minute,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“Now, miss,” he replied, not unkindly. “Your mother’s been pretty clear about this.”

“About what?” Panic caused her voice to rise, waver.

“I’m not saying it’s right she doesn’t want you coming here.” He kept his tone low, likely trying to save her from public embarrassment.

“Arthur. You’re making a mistake.” Though she tried her best to use her vice-president-in-charge-of-some-things-voice, it didn’t work. She sounded like a kid protesting being sent to her room.

“Yes, she is,” he said with a sigh. “But let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.” The automatic door opened at their approach. “Take care, miss. It looks like rain.”

“Arthur,” she pleaded.

He hesitated, but then turned away.

Tensley’s eyes filled. The woman had given instructions not to let her past the front desk? She stepped through the door, head bent with the humiliation of a daughter rejected by her mother. Maybe she’d done something worse than become a stripper, with a record. At what point did a parent draw the line and disown a child? How bad did things have to be?

She felt ridiculous, dressed in Kate’s suit that didn’t fit her quite right. As though she were Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
, trying to get the snooty people on Rodeo Drive to wait on her when she knew they could see she didn’t belong.

Maybe she was a hooker, too. Wouldn’t that just figure.

With her head still bowed, she didn’t see the woman who brushed into her until it had happened. She looked up to meet the startled eyes of Jen Joseph, a childhood acquaintance who had gone to work in Tanner Broadcasting’s accounting department after high school. Though Tensley’s office was on another floor, the two women had seen each other occasionally in the hallways. Neither had been happy about it.

“Tensley,” Jen breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Irritation pushed humiliation to one side. “My family owns the place,” was her terse reply.

“I know, but … ”

“But what?”

“Your mother says you’re not welcome here.” Jen had never been known for her tact.

“So I hear.”

“Well, you can’t blame her,” was Jen’s reply.

“I think you can.”

“Your lifestyle isn’t exactly, you know, up to Tanner standards.”

Prim little bitch.
Anger took over from irritation, elbowing humiliation out of the way. “What do you know about it?”

Jen made a move toward the door. “I have to get to work.”

“Wait!” Prim little bitch, or not, Jen might be the answer to what Tensley needed. A way to see her mother. Because no matter what order Esme Tanner might have given, there was now a principle involved. The principle that Tensley got to tell off her mother, face-to-face. For the first time ever.

Jen hesitated, creating enough of an opening for Tensley to stick a stiletto through. “I need your help,” she said.

The other woman shook her head. “I can’t help you.”

“I have to see my mother.”

“For God’s sake, Tensley.” Exasperation peppered Jen’s voice. “I’m not an idiot. I’d like to keep my job.”

She’d like to think Jen was overreacting, but Tensley knew her mother too well. Then inspiration struck. Could she do it? Probably not normally, but after this kind of humiliation … “I have to see her. It might be the last time.”

The other woman’s expression turned doubtful. “You’re going somewhere?”

“It’s not me.” She paused to let that sink in. “And don’t you think a mother and daughter should at least have a chance to say a final goodbye, no matter what’s happened between them?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course not. She wouldn’t let on about something like that.”

“She’s
sold
the company?”

“No.” Although that wouldn’t have been a bad one to go with. “That wouldn’t happen … until after.”

Jen looked annoyed. “I don’t have time for games. I have a job to get to.”

Tensley curled her fingers into a fist, but she kept her voice cool. “I should never have said anything. She would hate for anyone to know all she’s going through.” She shook her head. “She’s always been so strong, so healthy. It’s not fair.”

Understanding dawned on Jen’s face. “She’s sick?”

Tensley lifted a shoulder. “I can’t speak for her.”

“Oh my God. What will happen to — everyone’s jobs?” Jen fell silent, the ramifications apparently too huge to talk about.

Tensley gritted her teeth. “I’m pretty sure the company will carry on.”

“Maybe.” Jen didn’t sound convinced.

“I should have a chance to say goodbye to her, don’t you think?” She touched Jen’s arm in a plea. “She’s the only mother I have. And once someone, you know … ” she said, looking down, “you never get that chance again.”

“Sick,” Jen repeated. “She doesn’t look like it. I’ll bet she’s never even had a cold.”

Not to Tensley’s knowledge. “With this — you wouldn’t be able to tell. She’ll look normal right up until the, you know. End.”

Jen had never been the brightest. “Really?” She shuddered. “I hope the company doesn’t go to some huge conglomerate that doesn’t even know what we do.”

Or the most compassionate. “Really. So will you help me?”

Jen’s attention slid back to Tensley. “Help you?”

“Let me in the back entrance.” It was locked twenty-four/seven. Security didn’t patrol there and even though there was a camera, she was pretty sure no one looked at it very often.

“Oh. I don’t know about that.”

“It’s my last chance to tell the woman who gave birth to me how much she — ” She stopped, then tried again. “How much I love her.”
Cue the dramatic music
. Except that, unfortunately — for Tensley, anyway — it might be true.

Jen chewed her lower lip, but then appeared to make up her mind. Maybe she’d decided that if Esme Tanner had so little time left, this couldn’t be a career-ender. Either that, or she’d finally sprouted a sympathetic side. “Fine,” she said. “Meet me there in fifteen minutes. You know where it is?”