Chapter 24
“So you’re like Edward in Pretty Woman?” Allison asked, sounding doubtful.
“No, I don’t buy companies and sell them for parts. I buy companies in trouble and make them better. Then I sell them for profit.” Killion smiled at her. “It’s all about the profit. Sometimes a company has a good idea but can’t get it to market or can’t get the financing for manufacturing.”
“But wouldn’t the bank just loan them the money?”
“Banks are picky.”
“You’re picky, too,” Erica pointed out. “Just in a different way.”
“But with the bank, there’s only a loan, right?” Allison frowned slightly. “But when you get involved, you own part of the company. They have to do what you say.”
Killion grinned. “That’s the part I like. My job is to make money. I look for cheap companies with potential. I make them profitable, then sell at the highest price. I don’t want to hold on to anything permanently. I’m not looking to acquire. I want to get the most I can, then move on.”
Allison looked doubtful. “That sounds ruthless.”
“You’ve just made his day,” Erica teased. “Killion loves when people think he’s ruthless.”
They were seated in the kitchen at her house. Summer was out with friends and Mara was “entertaining,” so it was just the three of them. Erica and Killion had talked about going out to dinner, but had decided to stay in instead. He’d shown up at about six thirty, in time to entertain Jackson with a rousing half hour of chase and play with trucks. While Erica had popped the white-sauce lasagna in the oven, Allison had bathed her son and read to him until he’d fallen asleep, then she’d come downstairs for dinner.
Killion picked up his wineglass. “It’s business. I’m in it for a profit.”
“But do people get hurt by what you do?”
“Some will get fired. Others will make a lot of money.”
“What about the ones who lose their jobs? What if they have families?”
“Most companies have a severance policy. There’s unemployment.”
“You know that’s not enough.”
His gaze was steady. “I do.”
“But you’re so nice, to me, to Erica.”
“That’s personal.”
Erica could see her friend struggling with the concept. Yes, Killion was a good, kind man who cared about those in his world. But in business, he was, as Allison had said, ruthless.
“People are complicated,” Erica told her. “How is training going?”
Allison had been going to the Bellevue salon for her customer service training for a few days now. Allison looked at her, obviously aware of the not-so-subtle shift in topic. She looked at her plate, then back at Erica.
“It’s great. I’m enjoying the program you use. The lessons are clear and easy to understand.” She smiled. “They’re a bit repetitive, but that’s probably the point.”
She turned to Killion. “Have you been to the Bellevue Twisted? It’s so beautiful. The reception area is so open and inviting. There are these large cabinets filled with product and plenty of seating. There’s one person whose whole job is to ask you if you want something to drink. They make lattes and cappuccinos. Everyone wears black. Seriously, head-to-toe black. They do hair and nails on the first floor. All the other treatment rooms are upstairs. When the elevator opens, this lovely scent wafts in. Kind of a vanilla-and-eucalyptus combo.”
She stopped talking and looked at her plate. “I went on and on, didn’t I?”
Erica smiled. “I love your enthusiasm. Plus you’re bragging on one of my favorite places, so say more.”
They all laughed.
“It’s an amazing place. We got to observe a facial. One of the staff was the model and the esthetician talked us through everything she did. It was so interesting.” Her tone turned wistful. “Working at home with soon-to-be two kids makes the most sense, but there’s something about the energy of the salon I really like.”
“That makes me happy.” Erica smiled at her. “The Bellevue salon is where it all started. Whenever I have a problem to work through or a hard decision to make, that’s where I go to think things through.”
“It’s your sacred space,” Killion teased.
Erica laughed. “In a way.”
Killion glanced at Allison. “How’s Peter now that he has a new lawyer?”
Erica saw Allison’s mouth tighten.
“I haven’t really talked to him since Erica hired him. I know it makes me a coward, but I’m to the point where I really don’t want to know what’s happening. All I hear is bad news.”
“That’s going to change,” Erica told her. “Once all the charges are on the table, Raymond can start negotiating. Peter will cooperate and things will get better.”
“He’s not going to be home in time to see Bethany born.” Allison sighed. “I think I’ve always known that but now it’s impossible to even pretend.”
“Can you ask one of your friends to be with you?” Killion’s voice was kind.
“I will.”
“A solution,” he said. “But not the one you want.”
“No.”
Erica was more concerned about whether or not Allison really was going to ask one of her friends. So far no one had stopped by to hang out with the pregnant woman and she rarely went anywhere socially. Were there friends or was Allison in her position—living her life for something that, in the end, turned out not to be enough?
After dinner, Killion helped with the cleanup, then excused himself. Erica walked him to the door, where she promised to come stay with him in a few days, then returned to the family room.
Allison was trying to get comfortable on the big sectional.
“He doesn’t stay the night?” she asked.
“Not here. It’s easier for me to go to his house. It’s one thing for Summer to know Killion and I are together and another for her to see him in his bathrobe.”
“I think she knows you’ve seen each other naked.”
Erica sank onto the sofa and smiled. “Yes, but there’s no need to make it obvious. She’s very mature for her age, but still only sixteen.”
“Killion really cares about you.”
“Killion likes me and finds me convenient.”
“What does that mean?”
“What it sounds like. He enjoys my company and my lack of expectations.” She smiled. “We’re each other’s plus-one. Monogamous, but without expectations. The relationship isn’t going anywhere.”
“You’re not in love? You don’t want to get married?”
Erica laughed. “You’re such a dreamer. No, I don’t want to marry him or anyone and I’m not in love with him.”
“But you sleep with him.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Without love.”
“Apparently.”
Allison frowned. “I could never do that.”
“I know and that’s fine. We’re all different. All my life men have judged me for being too ambitious, too successful. They’ve been more afraid of me than attracted to me and some who have wanted me have done so for the wrong reasons. Killion gets me and I get him. We’re both busy and driven, which makes being together easy. But neither of us expects happily-ever-after.”
“I don’t know.” Allison looked at her. “I’m pretty sure he’s in love with you.”
“What?” Erica sat up straight. “Why would you say that? He’s not.”
“He acts like he is, the way he takes care of you. Plus you haven’t seen how he looks at you.”
“What do you mean how he looks at me? What a ridiculous thing to say.”
She could feel herself getting annoyed, which made no sense. They were just having a conversation and Allison was wrong. Killion was like her—he enjoyed what they had and would never want more.
Allison surprised her by smiling. “You’re right. Don’t listen to me. I barely know the man. I don’t think I could handle your relationship, but I respect it. Besides, it’s working and that’s the whole point.”
Which all sounded right but left Erica feeling oddly unsettled. A sensation she didn’t like at all.
Summer walked into Erica’s home office, her tablet in her hand and a determined expression on her face. Erica braced herself for conflict.
“I’m almost afraid to ask what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice teasing, hoping to avoid whatever fight they were about to have.
“I have a list,” her daughter admitted, flopping down on the sofa. “For summer and other stuff.”
“Ah, the summer-activity dance.” Erica typed on her laptop and pulled up her daughter’s calendar. “You’re scheduled for softball camp, as per usual. Last we talked, you weren’t sure if you want to spend the rest of your time volunteering or getting a job. It’s kind of late to get a volunteering gig. Won’t most of them be taken?”
“I’ve decided to work,” her daughter said, studying her tablet. “Not just for the money, but to learn some skills. I’ve applied a couple of places.”
Erica waited, but Summer didn’t offer any specifics.
“All right,” she said slowly. “Softball camp is in the morning and—”
“I don’t want to go to camp.” Summer sat up and set the tablet on the coffee table. “I’m done with softball.”
Erica stared at her. Sure, she’d mentioned she didn’t want to play in college and was thinking about letting the sport go, but this seemed sudden.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” Summer smiled. “I’m serious, Mom. Nothing big. No revelation. I’ve been playing for a long time. I’m good but not great. I don’t want to play in college. It’s a lot of work and the schedule ties me down. I want to be free to explore other things. Avery isn’t going to play, either, so it’s not like all my friends will be doing it.”
She sighed. “I told you about the younger players. They’re really good. Competitive good. They’ll probably get college scholarships. So let them have my spot.”
Erica thought that if the other players were that good, they would have beaten Summer for her spot and she wondered if that was part of her daughter’s decision. Better to quit on top than be forced out.
Was that the right lesson to learn? Should Erica force her to practice this summer and then try out in the new school year? But to what end? Summer was a good kid. If she was done, then she was done.
“You’ll finish out the season,” she said.
“Of course.” Summer rolled her eyes. “Mom, I would never let down the team.”
As she spoke, she pulled the band from her ponytail. Her long brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. Erica tried not to wince at the split ends and uneven cut. Her fingers itched to get in there with a pair of scissors and take off about three inches and add some layers. Maybe a couple of highlights. Nothing wild, just a subtle brightness here and—
“Stop mentally doing my hair.”
Erica held in a smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What else is on your list?”
“Allison needs baby stuff. She’s weeks away from Bethany being born and she doesn’t have anything. Shouldn’t she have little clothes and diapers and wipes and those jumpy-chair things?”
“She should have all those things,” Erica said slowly, typing into her computer. “I’ve been so caught up in getting her settled and everything else, I wasn’t thinking about the upcoming birth.”
She searched for a generic list for “what do I need when I bring home a baby.”
She carried her laptop over to the sofa and sat next to her daughter. They both stared at the long list.
“We’re going to need a moving van,” Summer murmured. “And a bigger house.”
Erica laughed. “It’s not that bad. You gave her the big bedroom, and the laundry room has tons of storage. She can use that. I’m not sure what she has from when Jackson was born. If she was planning on having more kids, she would have kept all that stuff.”
Summer looked at her. “Did you keep my stuff?”
“I did. For at least five years.” She remembered the boxes full of tiny clothes, most of them so girlie, with ribbons and bows.
“I dressed you in pink. Oh, there was the occasional trim in teal or white, but otherwise pink. It was all so pretty and delicate.” She smiled at her daughter. “I’m sure you hated it.”
“I’ve seen the pictures.” Summer leaned against her. “I did hate it but I looked cute.”
“The cutest.”
“Why didn’t you and Dad have more kids?”
“I couldn’t do it, time-wise. I wanted another child, but with you and work and Dad, I was already scrambling every second of every day. I was afraid I couldn’t be there enough, and no kid wants to feel like their mother doesn’t have time for them.”
Summer drew back a little and angled toward her. “You come to every softball game.”
“I do.”
“That’s a lot of time.”
“You’re worth it.” Erica smiled. “I pray for rain a lot.”
Her daughter laughed. “Sometimes we do, too. But only if we’re winning.”
“Sure. Why would you want to take the loss?”
Summer stared at her. “Are you mad about Allison?”
“In what way?”
“That she’s here, that I guilted you.”
“I’m not. Surprisingly, I like her very much. She’s a good person. I’m sorry for what she’s going through and I’m happy we can help.” Peter was a total douchebag, but that wasn’t news.
“I like having her and Jackson here, too. I’m excited about Bethany being born.”
“Oh, a newborn isn’t necessarily the thrill you think she’s going to be. They can be loud. My bedroom’s far enough away, but you’re right next door. I hope you can get enough sleep.”
“I’ll be fine. If it’s too bad, I’ll sleep on the sofa in the family room. I can take Jackson with me.” Her daughter grinned. “We should get a dog.”
“No.”
“Come on, Mom. Jackson would love a dog.”
The dog request wasn’t new, but the use of Jackson as a reason was.
“Nothing about our lives has changed. I’m gone too much and you’re gone too much. A dog needs human contact.”
“Allison’s home.”
“With two small babies and starting a new job. Trust me, she’s not looking for more responsibility.” She closed her laptop. “If this is very important to you, I can get you one of those fluffy mechanical ones. They walk and bark and I think there’s some kind of heater in them so they feel warm.”
Her daughter laughed. “That’s so horrible. Don’t offer me a fake dog.”
“Then be realistic and think about the life the poor dog would have with us. It’s a firm no.”
Summer leaned against her again. “You’re right.”
“I usually am. No wonder you find me annoying.”
“You’re not annoying. Just mom-like. Can I go shopping with you for the baby stuff?”
“You are absolutely going shopping with me. I’m not doing that alone.”
“What about Allison? Should we tell her what we’re doing?”
Erica considered the question. “Let’s wait until she asks about it. If she knows we’re basically outfitting her for her newborn, she’ll feel awful and then she’ll start thanking me and I’ll feel awful.”
“I get the Allison part but why don’t you like being thanked?”
“I don’t know. The first time is nice. The second time makes me feel funny. Guilty about having too much.”
“But you worked hard for what you have.”
“Guilt doesn’t always make sense. We’ll surprise her. That will be better.”
“We can have a reveal party. With snacks.”
“Hungry again?”
Summer pushed off the sofa. “Always. Let’s raid the refrigerator.”
While Allison found the walk from the parking lot to the prison more difficult every time, she was getting used to the indignity of checking in, being searched and having to talk to her husband in a large public room with a hundred or so other people and several dozen guards.
“You look better,” she told him, noting that he seemed more rested and less worried.
“Raymond’s doing his magic,” he said happily. “He’s working to get money released to you, plus some of the charges have been dropped.”
That was news to her. “Which ones? Does that mean you’ll be able to get out?” Before Bethany is born? But she didn’t ask that. He’d already told her that wouldn’t happen.
Peter glanced around, as if judging how close the guards were, then he reached across the plastic table and took her hand.
“I’m not getting out. Not for a long time. I’ll have to plead guilty and serve my sentence. They’ll count the time served so that shortens it some—”
He kept talking, but she couldn’t hear him. There was a rushing sound and a sense of the world shifting off its axis. The tears immediately followed as a protest rose up inside of her.
“You’re not getting out?”
She tried to keep her voice down, remembering what had happened when Peter had started shouting. But the broken part of her wanted to scream out a protest.
“You’re not getting out?” she repeated in a whisper. “I thought we’d have time. I thought you’d fight the charges. Isn’t that what Raymond is for, the reason you waited for him? So he could help you?”
Peter sat in his chair, obviously uncomfortable. He looked at everything but her.
“You really thought I was coming home? Allison, I can’t. The charges. Didn’t you know?”
“Know what? You kept saying it was a mistake. A misunderstanding. What does this mean? You’re cooperating. So you know stuff? Are you guilty? Did you do those things?”
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”
He reached for her hand again. She wanted to snatch it back, but that would cause a scene and despite everything, she didn’t want the visit to end. If only she could ignore the sick feeling in her stomach.
“I wanted everything for you,” he said desperately, his voice low, his gaze intense. “I need you to remember that. Things weren’t going well and you were pregnant and I got frantic.”
She tried to understand what he was saying. Or maybe the real information was in what he wasn’t saying.
All this time she’d assumed he was an innocent man. That circumstances had forced his hand, or he’d been tricked or something. But she’d been wrong.
“Are you a criminal?”
“What? No.” He drew back. “Why would you ask that? You love me. I’m a good husband and father. I’m not a criminal.”
“But you’re in jail and you’re going to plead guilty.”
“It makes things easier.” His gaze locked with hers. “I love you, Allison. For always. This is just a bump in the road. We’ll get through it.”
A bump in the road? “Do you have any idea what this has been like for me? I believed in you. In us. Was it all a lie?”
“No.” His voice was strangled. “God, no. I hate what I’ve done to you, but you have to understand why.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t. Nothing about their situation made sense.
“Did it really start in the past few months or have you been doing stuff like this for longer?”
He looked around again, as if conscious of listening ears. “No, no. Of course not. It was just a one-time thing. I got tripped up and things spiraled.”
She wanted to believe him. Despite everything, she missed him and she wanted him home with her and Jackson. She’d seen herself growing old with Peter.
“There was nothing wrong with our life,” she told him. “What we had was special because we loved each other. We had a family and a future.”
“Baby, all that’s still true. Give me some time.”
Time wasn’t the problem, she thought as she studied him, looking for the person she’d fallen in love with three years ago. The problem was that she was finally figuring out he wasn’t who she’d thought. And while it was easy to say it was all his fault, what if it wasn’t? What if she was just as much to blame?