Chapter 2 #2
Once she had put the painful past and the near-death experience behind her, she started focusing on her studies.
The result was a four-point-zero average and several full-time scholarships.
She had gotten herself a part-time job in a diner near campus in order to supplement her living expenses.
She had no intention of burdening her mother any further.
And she had succeeded. She had lived to see the day when her mother was proud to the point of tears. She had graduated with honors, holding double degrees: one in education and the other in psychology.
She had started working right after college at a local preschool.
That job had lasted for three years until she applied for the position at this prestigious institution and was accepted.
The pay was excellent and the compensation package was far better than where she had been before.
She had taken it for the health benefits, so she could add her mother to the package as her mother's health had started failing.
And she had bought the house for them. Telling herself that at least her mother had gotten the chance to live somewhere comfortable, somewhere she did not have to pay rent, was a source of comfort, or at least she thought it was.
And she had stood her ground. When men approached her, it had been easy for her to smile politely but firmly and say no.
In college she had been too busy studying and working to even contemplate a relationship.
She had been on a few dates and had men stealing a few kisses, but she had always been able to laugh and turn them away.
When she left college, a teacher at the school where she had worked had tried his best to change her mind, but after a few dates, she had lost interest. And besides, it was right about the time when her mother had fallen ill.
She looked around the tiny space wistfully.
The excitement of owning her own home had carried both her and her mother to yard sales and antique stores where they had foraged and spent hours finding deals.
The result was an eclectic mix: the rugs strewn across the hardwood floor in the living room were handwoven.
The sofas were refinished soft brown leather with throw blankets matching the rugs.
Her mother had lovingly stitched the muslin curtains and embroidered the edges.
Her bedroom was a treasure trove of mismatched furnishings. Her eyes touched on the sculpture she had yet to take out of its protective house. Putting the cup down, she uncoiled herself and walked over to the table. She should give it back. It wasn't right to take such an expensive gift from a man.
She knew what he expected in return and she could not give him what he wanted, no matter how much she was aching to.
And she ached, she thought in distress. If he had pressed the point, she might have given into his demands, and it burned her that it had taken a few potent kisses from someone with obvious experience to have her dropping her guard.
Picking up the delicate glass, she ran her fingertips over the gentle curves lovingly.
The woman was a genius, she thought in admiration.
Owning something by Mary Catherine was a very big deal.
And he did say the proceeds, or most of it, were going to charity, something she was big on.
She would keep it for the time being, someplace safe where Galahad wouldn't bounce around and smash it, and then she would give it back to him.
Placing it back in the tissue wrappings, she hefted it to take it upstairs.
*****
He did not go back to his place. He was too churned up to be alone and had briefly contemplated calling someone. He had a list of women who would love nothing better than a suggestion from him that he wanted to come over. But the very thought of being with someone else turned his stomach.
So, he called his sister and was surprised to find that she was home and that she wanted to talk.
They weren't very close. Years of being in the same space had taken care of any sort of familial bonding.
They had mostly been raised by household staff, a plethora of nannies that never stayed more than a few months.
(Now looking back, Dean realized that his father had something to do with that.
He had affairs with them and paid them off when he was finished with them.) It made him sick to his stomach now to also realize that they had shared the same women, more than once.
No wonder Catherine didn't want to be tainted by him.
"You've been drinking." He made the observation as soon as Irene opened the door to admit him.
"If you're here to be the sober police, you can damn well take yourself off and go to hell." Turning around, she marched along the narrow hallway and into the elegantly appointed yellow and green sitting room.
Dean saw the evidence of her downward spiral on the cherry wood table. The crystal ashtray was overflowing with cigar butts, and a decanter was already half empty with what looked like scotch.
"Help yourself." Waving a desultory hand, she plopped herself down on the soft leather sofa and stretched her legs out. Her sable brown hair was not in its usual immaculate coil at the nape of her neck, and her makeup was streaked as if she had been crying.
"No, thanks." Pushing away her lime green jacket, he sat across from her, eyes following her jerky movements as she pulled on the cigarette. "What's going on?"
"Charles is cheating on me," she declared bluntly.
"I thought you had already left him."
She dragged on the cigarette and blew smoke towards the ceiling.
The window was open, letting in the cool breeze and thankfully filtering away the smoke.
"Dad wanted us to try again." She mimicked their father's voice perfectly.
"'Now, darling. This is your third marriage and Charles is a good man.
He's on the board and is from a very good family.
Cheating is a part of life and it's time you grow up.
'" She sniffed. "So, I decided to give the son of a bitch another go, only to find out he's cheating with his secretary.
And he wants me to sanction the affair, wants me to be okay with it. "
Tears blurred her gray eyes. "Just like our parents. I thought I could be sophisticated about it like Mother, but I can't." She swallowed the lump that had lodged itself inside her throat. "I cannot be that kind of wife."
"And you shouldn't have to be." Surging to his feet, he paced over to the window, expression ominous. He had no love for the people who had brought him into the world. He had told himself growing up that it did not bother him, but now it did. Now he realized that he had been lying to himself.
"Divorce the bastard." He turned back to his sister and deliberately pushed away his own misery. "He signed a prenup, so he gets nothing. You're worth more than some man using you."
She squinted at him, her face a pathetic mass of indecision and utter sadness. "Where's this coming from?" she wondered. "You usually don't concern yourself about my miserable life."
He winced at that and realized it was the truth. He had spent his life doing whatever the hell he pleased without thought to anyone else.
"I'm sorry for that." He came and sat back down. "You're obviously unhappy." He paused slightly and considered the ridiculous question he was about to ask her.
"Are you in love with him?"
Her eyes widened as she gaped at him.
"Darling, are you high? In this family we marry for convenience, or if the person holds an exalted position."
"Then why the hell should you be concerned that he's cheating on you?"
"Because I do." She firmed her trembling lips. "Because it's humiliating to realize the man you're with, your bloody husband is no longer interested in you. I don't look like you," she pointed out bitterly. "I don't look like our mother. Compared to the both of you, I'm plain."
"Do you know how it feels to realize that you're only married for your name? It does something to you here." She thumped a fist against her thin chest. "You will never know what it feels to be used up and discarded. One, you're a man, two you have looks and three your name is Collier."
"I have no talent. The only thing I'm good for is to sit on some charitable board and say a few things about this or that. Nothing more. I'm not allowed to hold an important position in the company. I'm useless."
"Then change it, dammit."
"Pardon?" She blinked at him owlishly.
He knew he had never said this to her before, never cared one way or another what she was up to. Before now, she had been only his sister; they shared bloodlines, but that was as far as it went. But something had changed. Over the past few days, something had changed inside him.
And listening to a lovely and sweet young woman had taught him that there was so much more to life than keeping score of the women he had been with and wandering from one place to the next. He wanted more.
"Change it." He ameliorated his tone, hands reaching for hers.
She drew back slightly in shock. They were also not emotional and public displays were simply not done.
"Get up and stop feeling sorry for yourself. Do something with your life. If the way you look doesn't suit you, change it. Find something you like doing and go for it."
She had allowed him to take her hands but was looking at him as if he had grown two heads and a horn.
"That's rich coming from someone who has never worked a day in his life."
He winced at the truth of it.