Chapter 19
Something’s wrong!
Heston
I hadn’t lied to Dad when I told him I was picking up something from the café.
That was true. I did. But afterward, I did a detour to my father’s home, now Sebastian’s pride and joy.
There was no need to worry about Dad having a fall or needing to go to the hospital while I was gone, because Devyn was with him.
Dad had introduced him to telenovelas and my husband-to-be was now invested in finding out what happened each day.
I had an ulterior motive for talking to Sebastian. He thought I was coming over to finalize the details about where and when the marriage would take place. But I was going to ferret out information about why he’d entered this agreement.
When I pulled up, there was no assistant manning the intercom and refusing to open the gates.
Sebastian buzzed me in and I parked and went inside as the front door was ajar.
That was a little odd. It was Sunday and my step-father’s assistant had the day off, but there was usually at least one domestic helper working the shift nobody wanted.
“I’m in the den.”
As I strolled toward the direction of my step-father’s voice, I passed the formal living room that Sebastian had insisted on furnishing with look-alike Louis XIV chairs and chaises. Father had hated it and whenever he was home, he retreated to the den where he lay on an old sofa and watched TV.
For months, Sebastian sat in there after dinner saying the atmosphere was calming, but I was convinced he just enjoyed being surrounded by expensive things, reminding him of how rich they were. Eventually, he’d joined Father in the den and complained about the cheap furniture.
One wall was bare and on poking my head in, the bright sunlight streaming in the large picture windows picked out rectangular marks on the paintwork above the fireplace and wispy cobwebs, suggesting a painting had been removed.
Running my fingers over the wallpaper, I remembered staring at the painting, figuring out what the artist was saying. My step-father told me I needed an eye for modern art to appreciate it and one day, when it increased in value, he’d sell it and make a fortune.
Something else was different. I studied the room, rewinding images from my memory as I worked out what was missing. The carpet. Father had been so proud of it, winning it in an auction. It was one of his most prized possessions.
Sebastian was rearranging the house the way he wanted it, getting rid of the things Father loved.
If I ever came here again, there might be nothing left that reminded me of Father.
Perhaps I could pocket something before I left, but my conscience wouldn’t let me.
Besides, I couldn’t hide it from Dad and he’d make me march back to the house and return it.
Standing in the den doorway, I gazed around the room with papers piled on every surface.
Sebastian was on the floor, rifling through folders.
His creased tee was out of character because he instructed the staff to iron his underwear, the sheets and the towels.
He raked his fingers through his hair and scribbled something on a piece of paper.
A cup of coffee was beside him, along with a half-eaten sandwich. PB&J? Since when did my step-father lower his standards and eat something so basic?
I cleared my throat, and he jerked backward, the papers he was holding flinging into the air before lazily floating to the floor and joining the others.
“What happened to Father’s carpet in the living room?” Seeing my step-father rattled, I blurted out the accusation.
“I—I sent it to be washed. The place near the country club.”
Liar, liar pants on fire. There was no specialized antique cleaner in town. Father had sent it to the east coast the one time Sebastian spilled wine on it.
“I was wondering if you’d made the payment to the hospital.
We can’t go ahead with the operation without the funds.
” That wasn’t a lie. The doctor phoned me every day asking if I’d secured them.
Dad towed his oxygen tank around the house, needing it close by, and he was spending most of the day in bed.
Sebastian flapped his hand at me and grumbled he’d get to it.
“This is my father’s life.”
He swiveled toward me and spat out that my father was already dead. “The man in your apartment is your dad.”
I bit my lip, stifling the abuse that I wanted to hurl at him, that he deserved. The phone beeped and Sebastian returned to his papers while I read the message from Devyn.
How’s it going?
Okay. I’d fill him in when I got home, but after Dad was asleep.
While Devyn had promised he’d sell the car, the one Dean had named Betty—I had no idea why but Dean had told me when he came into the café one day—it wouldn’t be enough. Besides, it was in Roy’s name.
And I hadn’t mentioned it to Devyn because it might sound like I was accusing him of not coughing up enough money. But he had hinted he’d beg his father for the money.
But he couldn’t do that without outing that we had found one another. Dad’s health was my priority. I had to put him before Devyn.
“Got any juicy deets on Roy?”
He furrowed his brow. “Roy?”
“Rein’s son. The guy I assume I’m marrying.”
“Not really, but the wedding has to be soon.” He really was distracted as he picked up a piece of paper, put it down and picked it up again.
“Why?”
“Because… ummm the business deal… the reason we’re doing this. I can’t let it slip away or…”
I got up and sat in another chair, one closer to Sebastian, and squinted at the papers, but he slammed a cushion over them, saying they were private.
“Mind if I make myself a sandwich? I haven’t eaten lunch.”
“Clean up after yourself.”
I meandered to the back of the house, noting opened boxes in each room. In Father’s study, his prized books were missing, leaving a gap on the shelf and after sliding my finger along the wood, it was coated in dust. Sebastian’s housekeeper must be away because he viewed dust as the enemy.
Was Sebastian moving? It made sense to downsize. This monstrosity of a house was too big for one person, let alone one.
On opening the fridge, I stood staring at the empty shelves, the cold air blasting against my cheeks.
Milk. Cow’s milk not the almond, oat, rice or whatever non-dairy “milks” Sebastian favored.
Half a loaf of cheap white bread, jam, some mustard, a wilted lettuce and a bottle of wine.
While I was no connoisseur, the wine was one I’d bought when Dad and I celebrated my getting into college.
It’d been the cheapest one in the store.
All the evidence suggested Devyn was right and my step-father was bleeding money. But how was that possible?
I slapped peanut butter and jam on a slice of bread and ate it, barely tasting the salty and sweet combination that I’d loved since Dad fed me a bite-sized piece as a kid.
Getting out my phone, I snapped a pic of the fridge contents and the boxes strewn around the adjoining rooms and the blank space on the wall in the living room.
I sent the photos to Devyn and asked for his opinion.
He’s got money problems.
That made little sense. He was rolling in it.
The company, the investments, the house…
Maybe he was going on vacation, gave the staff time off and hadn’t replenished his food supply.
But my step-father had expensive tastes.
The best wine, cars, clothes, holidays. The Sebastian I knew wouldn’t touch plain old white bread.
I crept toward the den, wanting to catch him unaware, and listened at the door.
I’d left it open when I walked out of the room, but now it was shut.
There was an indistinct murmur of voices in the den, but I leaned against the door when Sebastian screeched, which was probably the decibel equivalent of a jet aircraft.
“Fix it!”
I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end was saying, but I took my phone and pressed record. There was a law about not recording someone without their knowledge, I thought, but fuck that.
Glass shattered, and I tore in to discover my step-father standing in the middle of the room, his glazed eyes not reacting to my presence. The coffee mug was in pieces and there was a jagged hole in the window.
“Get out, Heston.” He slumped onto the couch. “No, don’t go. This marriage needs to happen yesterday.”
I didn’t point out that was an impossibility and stayed quiet.
“This business deal must go through. I’ll call Rein tonight or meet him at the club and we’ll pick a date next week.”
“Oh, next week. I think I’m busy.” I was enjoying this game of pretend. I realized my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth. I shouldn’t have jeopardized the money for Dad’s surgery.
He leaped up and got in my face. “Listen, you little punk, this marriage is good for both of us. Now piss off.”
As I drove out the gate, I ran through options on how to get the money for Dad’s operation because whatever con Sebastian was engaged in, he had no ready cash.