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On Friday, Anne Marie got to the restaurant shortly before the predetermined time of seven. Based on past experience, she expected Melissa to be late; that was usually the case, especially if the event happened to include Anne Marie—like dinner at her and Robert’s house or a holiday get-together. It was yet another way she displayed her complete lack of regard for her stepmother. But when Anne Marie arrived Melissa was already there, pacing outside the restaurant. Anne Marie was shocked, to say the least.
Melissa had suggested a well-known seafood place on the waterfront close to Pike Place Market. Walking fast, it was about twenty minutes from the bookstore, andAnne Marie had worn an extra sweater against the cold wind coming off Elliot Bay.
Her stepdaughter abruptly stopped her pacing the moment she saw her. Because of their long, unfortunate history, Anne Marie didn’t—couldn’t—lower her guard. She’d been sucker punched too many times by some slyly cruel comment or unmistakable slight.
“Hello, Melissa,” she said, maintaining a cool facade. “You’re looking well.” Her stepdaughter was an attractive woman, tall and willowy in stature. Her hair was dark and fell in soft natural curls about her face. She was wearing black jeans and an expensive three-quarter-length khaki raincoat. Even as a girl, she’d been almost obsessed with fashion and appearances, an obsession her father had indulged.
“You look good, too,” Melissa said carelessly. “Are you dating anyone?”
Anne Marie bit her tongue. “No. If that’s what you want to talk about, I think I should leave now.”
“Calm down, would you?” Melissa snapped. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you dating.”
The derisive, scornful attitude was there in full display, and Anne Marie wondered why she still tried. Her stepdaughter seemed unreachable—by her, anyway—and had been from the day they met.
“I…I shouldn’t have asked,” Melissa murmured in what might have passed for an apology if her voice hadn’t held the same level of hostility. “It isn’t really any of my business.”
“Shall we go inside?” Anne Marie said. The wind was growing stronger, and the rain seemed about to start any minute.
“Yes,” Melissa agreed, moving quickly to the door.
Melissa had made a reservation, and they were soon seated at a table by the window. The water was as dark as the sky but Anne Marie gazed out at the lights, dimly visible in the fog. Then she turned to her menu. She and Melissa both seemed determined to make a thorough study of it. With her nerves on edge, Anne Marie didn’t have much of an appetite. She decided on clam chowder in a bread bowl and when the server came, she was surprised to hear Melissa order the same thing.
“I’d like some coffee, too,” Melissa told him.
“I would, as well.”
Once the waiter had left, Melissa nervously reached for her linen napkin, which she spread carefully across her lap. Then she rearranged her silverware.
“Are you ready to tell me what this is about?” Anne Marie asked. Any exchange of pleasantries was pointless.
There was a pause. “It’s probably unfair to come to you about this,” Melissa finally said, “but I didn’t know what else to do.”
Anne Marie closed her eyes briefly. “Rather than hint at what you want to say, why don’t you just say it?”
Melissa placed her hands in her lap and lowered her head. “I…I haven’t been doing well since Dad died.”
Anne Marie nodded. “I haven’t, either.”
Melissa looked up and bit her lip. “I miss him so much.”
Anne Marie tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “Me, too.”
“I thought if I went into his office and talked to his friends I’d feel better.”
The waiter brought their coffee, and Anne Marie welcomed the distraction. She could feel tears welling up and she didn’t want the embarrassment of crying in front of Melissa.
When they were alone again, Melissa dumped sugar in her coffee. “Like I said, I decided to stop by the office,” she muttered, scooping up three tiny half-and-half cups and peeling away the tops. “Dad was always so proud of his role in the business.”
Robert had every right to be proud. He’d worked for the data storage business almost from its inception and much of the company’s success could be attributed to his efforts. He enjoyed his job, although the demands on his time had increased constantly. For three consecutive years, Robert had planned to take Anne Marie to Paris for their wedding anniversary. Each year he’d been forced to cancel their vacation plans because of business.
“Everyone must’ve been happy to see you,” Anne Marie commented politely.
Melissa shrugged. “Even in this short amount of time, there’ve been a lot of changes.”
That was understandable. Robert had died almost ten months ago, and life had a way of creeping forward, no matter what the circumstances.
“Do you remember Rebecca Gilroy?” Melissa asked.
“Of course.” The young woman had been Robert’s personal assistant. As Anne Marie recalled, Rebecca had started working for the company a year or so before Robert’s heart attack.
“She had a baby.”
“I didn’t know she was pregnant.” Had she learned of it, Anne Marie would’ve sent her a gift. She’d only met Rebecca on a few occasions, but she’d liked her.
“She isn’t married.” Melissa’s gaze held hers.
Anne Marie didn’t consider that significant. “It’s hardly a prerequisite these days.”
Melissa picked up her coffee and Anne Marie noticed that her hands were trembling.
“Do you remember exactly when you and my dad separated?”
Anne Marie expelled her breath. “It’s not something I’m likely to forget, Melissa. Of course I remember. He…left on September 18th the year before last.” She lifted her shoulders as she took in a deep breath, feeling raw and vulnerable. “I was miserable without your father. I still am.” She wasn’t sure where this conversation was leading and strained to hold on to her patience. Exhaling, she added, “Despite the fact that you dislike me, we’ve always had something very important in common. We both loved your father.”
Melissa didn’t acknowledge the comment; instead she stared down at the table. “One night a couple of months after you and Dad separated, I decided to treat him to dinner. He was working too hard and he often stayed late at the office.”
That was a fairly typical occurrence throughout their marriage. As a company executive, Robert put in long hours.
“I picked up a couple of sandwiches and some of his favorite soup and went over there to surprise him.”
Anne Marie nodded patiently, wondering when her stepdaughter would get to the point.
“The security guard let me in and when I walked into the office…”
The waiter approached the table with their order; Melissa stopped talking and even seemed grateful for the intrusion.
Anne Marie took her first taste, delicious despite her lack of appetite. Realizing Melissa hadn’t continued, she gestured with her spoon. “Go on. You walked into the office and?”
Melissa nodded and reluctantly picked up her own spoon. “Rebecca was there, too.”
“Mandatory overtime was one of the job requirements.”
“She wasn’t exactly…working.”
Anne Marie frowned. “What do you mean?”
Melissa glared at her then. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” she demanded. “If you’re going to make me say it, then fine. Rebecca and my father were…they were having sex.”
Anne Marie’s spoon clattered to the floor as the shock overwhelmed her. Her body felt mercifully numb, and her mind refused to accept what she’d heard. It was like the day the company president had come to the bookstore to personally tell her Robert had died. The same kind of dazed unbelief.
“I’m sorry, Anne Marie,” Melissa whispered. “I…I shouldn’t have been so straightforward, but I didn’t know how else to say it.”
Melissa’s words had begun to fall together in her mind. Robert and Rebecca sexually involved. Rebecca pregnant and unmarried. Rebecca had a child.
Anne Marie could no longer breathe.
“Rebecca’s baby…”
Melissa’s eyes held hers. “I’m not positive…but I think so. You know her better than I do. I only saw her the one time… with Dad, and then when I stopped by the office recently. I…I had the impression that she isn’t the type to sleep around. Oh, and she was at the funeral.”
Anne Marie closed her eyes and shook her head. All of a sudden, the few spoonfuls of soup she’d managed to swallow came back up her throat. Grabbing her napkin, she held it over her mouth and leaped from her chair. She weaved unsteadily around the tables, then bolted for the ladies’ room and made it inside just in time. Stumbling into a vacant stall, Anne Marie was violently ill. When she finished, she was so weak she couldn’t immediately get up.
Melissa was waiting for her as she came out of the stall and handed her a dampened paper towel. Tears had forged wet trails down the younger woman’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t have told you. I…I had no idea what else to do.”
Anne Marie held the cold, wet towel to her face with both hands. Shock, betrayal, outrage—all these emotions bombarded her with such force she didn’t know which one to react to first.
“I should’ve talked to Brandon,” Melissa whispered, leaning against the wall. She slid down until she was in a crouching position. “I shouldn’t have told you…I shouldn’t have told you.”
A waitress came into the ladies’ room. “Is everything all right?” she asked, looking concerned. “The manager asked me to make sure there wasn’t anything wrong with your dinner.”
As Melissa straightened, Anne Marie tried to reassure the woman that this had nothing to do with the food. “We’re fine. It wasn’t the soup…it’s nothing to worry about.”
“There’ll be no charge for your dinners.”
“No, please. I’ll pay.” The anger had begun to fortify her now, and she washed her hands with a grim determination that was sure to kill any potential germs.
Melissa waited for her by the washroom door, following her back to the table. Anne Marie scooped up her purse and slapped two twenty-dollar bills down on the table. That should more than cover their soup and coffee. Like a stray puppy, her stepdaughter trailed her outside, a foot or two behind.
The rain had begun in earnest by then and was falling so hard large drops bounced on the sidewalk. Anne Marie flattened herself against the side of the building while she struggled to comprehend what she’d heard. It seemed impossible. Unbelievable.
It couldn’t be right. Robert would never risk getting Rebecca pregnant. Even the one night they’d spent together—She froze. They hadn’t used protection. She’d told him she was off her birth control pills and it was as if it no longer mattered to him. His lack of concern had thrilled Anne Marie. She saw it as the first crack in his stubborn unwillingness to accept her need for a baby.
“Anne Marie…” Melissa choked out her name. The tears ran down her stepdaughter’s face, mingling with the rain. Her hair hung in wet clumps but she didn’t seem to notice. “Someone needs to talk to Rebecca—to ask her…”
“Not me.”
“I can’t,” Melissa wailed.
“Why not?” she asked. “What difference does it make now?”
“If the baby’s Dad’s, then…then it’s related to me. And if that baby really is Dad’s, then…I have to know. I’ve got a right to know.”
Anne Marie wondered if Robert’s daughter would have been as tolerant toward a child she might have had. “Did Rebecca—did she have a boy or a girl?”
“A boy.”
The pain was as searing as a hot poker against her skin. It took her a moment to find her voice. “If the child is Robert’s, why hasn’t Rebecca said anything?”
“I…I don’t know,” Melissa whispered. “I shouldn’t have told you….”
“You wanted to hurt me,” Anne Marie said coldly.
“No!” Melissa’s denial was instantaneous.
“There’s no love lost between us.” Anne Marie had no illusions about her stepdaughter’s motives. “You don’t like me. You never have. All these years you’ve been trying to get back at me, to punish me, and now you have.”
Not bothering to deny the accusation, Melissa buried her face in her hands and started to weep uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Anne Marie wanted to turn her back on Robert’s daughter and walk away. But she couldn’t bear to hear Melissa weep. Even though she was the one Robert had betrayed, Anne Marie reached for his daughter and folded her arms around Melissa.
The two women clung together, hardly aware of the people scurrying by.
Anne Marie’s reserve broke apart and the pain of Robert’s betrayal came over her in an explosive, unstoppable rush. She wept as she never had before, even at Robert’s funeral. Her shoulders heaved and the noisy, racking sobs consumed her.
Then it was Melissa who was holding her, comforting her. After all the years of looking for common ground with her stepdaughter, Anne Marie had finally found it.
In her husband’s betrayal.
Chapter 5
Barbie Foster stood in line at the movie theater multiplex, waiting to purchase a ticket, preferably for a comedy. She needed a reason to laugh. Her day had started early when she opened Barbie’s, her dress shop, two blocks off Blossom Street. The shop was high-end, exclusive and very expensive. Her clientele were women who could easily afford to drop four figures on a dress. Barbie made sure they got their money’s worth, providing advice, accessories and free alterations. She had a number of regular customers who counted on her for their entire wardrobes. Her own sense of style had served her well.
She didn’t want to sound conceited, but Barbie was aware that she was an attractive woman. Since Gary’s death, she’d received no shortage of attention from the opposite sex. Men wanted a woman like her on their arm—and, she suspected, they wanted her money. Barbie, however, wasn’t easily swayed by flattery. She’d been happy in her marriage and had loved her husband. At this point in her life she wasn’t willing to settle for mere companionship or, heaven forbid, no-strings sex. She wanted love. She longed for a man who’d treat her like a princess the way Gary had. Her friends told her that was a dated attitude; Barbie didn’t care. Unfortunately there weren’t many princes around these days.
She’d married young. In retrospect she recognized how fortunate she’d been in finding Gary. She’d had no real life experience, so the fact that she’d met a really wonderful man and fallen in love with him was pure luck. He was ten years her senior; at thirty, he’d had a wisdom beyond his years and a great capacity for love, for loyalty. He’d been working for her father at the time and came to the house often. She’d had a crush on him that developed into genuine love, although it took her a few years to recognize just how genuine it was. At nineteen, she always made sure she happened to be around whenever he stopped by, and enjoyed parading through the house to the pool—in her bikini, of course. She still smiled at the way Gary had looked in every direction except hers.
They’d married when she was twenty-one, with her father’s blessing and, surprisingly perhaps, her mother’s. She got pregnant the first week of their honeymoon. When she’d delivered identical twin sons, Gary had been over the moon. The pregnancy had been difficult, however, and he’d insisted the two boys were family enough.
The twins, Eric and Kurt, filled their lives and they were idyllically happy. Not that she and Gary didn’t have their share of differences and arguments, but they forgave each other quickly and never confused disagreement with anger. Their household had been calm, orderly, contented. The plane crash ended all that. Barbie had always been close to her sons, but following the tragic deaths, of Gary and her father, the three of them were closer than ever. They helped one another through their grief, and even now they talked almost every day.
Encouraged by her mother and sons, a year after Gary’s death Barbie started her own business. The dress shop helped take her mind off her loneliness and gave her purpose. Her sons were eighteen and growing increasingly independent. They’d be on their own soon. As it happened, they were attending colleges on the opposite side of the country. Swallowing her natural instinct to hold on to her children, she flew out to Boston and New York with her sons, got them settled in their respective schools and then flew home. She’d wept like a baby throughout the entire five-hour flight back to the West Coast.
Her house seemed so empty without the boys—her house and her life. She’d never felt more alone than she had since last September when she’d accompanied Kurt and Eric to their East Coast schools. Thankfully, though, they’d both come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
She’d kept herself occupied with the shop, but the Valentine’s get-together with the other widows had revealed a different kind of opportunity. Barbie had begun to compose her list of Twenty Wishes, hoping to discover a new objective, some new goal to pursue. Her mother had leaped at this idea with an enthusiasm she hadn’t shown in years, and if for no other reason, Barbie had followed suit. They often did things together and, in fact, her mother was Barbie’s best friend.
The line moved. Barbie approached the teenage cashier and handed her a ten-dollar bill.
“Which movie?”
Barbie smiled at her. “You decide. Preferably a comedy.”
The girl searched her face. “There are three or four showing. You don’t care which one?”
“Not really.” All Barbie wanted to do was escape reality for the next two hours.
The teenager took her money and a single ticket shot up, which she gave Barbie, along with her change. “Theater number twelve,” she instructed. “The movie starts at four twenty-five.”
