12. Theo
Theo
Ipulled up in front of the red brick colonial on Forest Hills Drive and sat with the engine idling, willing myself not to panic.
The house was a two-story with green shutters, fronted by a manicured lawn and bordered by hedges of azaleas.
It was the quintessential Forest Hills home—gracious, welcoming, and grand without being ostentatious.
And inside might be the woman whose loss had been responsible for driving my great-grandmother to madness, my grandmother to despair, and my mother to the bottle.
Liv had told me her grandmother loved the piano. That was the excuse we’d devised: I could show up and play for her. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I felt like a traveling organ grinder, minus the monkey.
“The hell with it,” I muttered, shutting off the car and getting out. I gave myself a quick once-over—khakis pressed, button-down ironed, limbs still attached—and then headed for the house. If this was going to be a cluster fuck, best to get it over with.
Laughter emanated from within, mingled with the tinkling notes of a piano. I had my fist raised to knock when the door swung open, revealing Liv. She wore jeans that hugged every curve and a blue sweater that matched her eyes. And God, she was stunning. For a second, I forgot my manners and stared.
Liv cleared her throat and, embarrassed, I extended a hand.
She rolled her eyes and ignored it, wrapping her arms around me in a hug.
I inhaled the coconut-and-vanilla undertones of her perfume and the floral scent of her shampoo as she melted against me, her breasts against my chest, her head tucked under my chin.
Then she pulled away, leaving me off-balance.
What was it about this woman that knocked me on my ass? And what the fuck was I going to do about it?
“Earth to Theo.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face, eyebrows raised. “Did you hear anything I just said? Because I’m pretty freaked, and if we’re both hanging out on Space Mountain, there’s no way this is going to work. One of us needs to hold it together.”
“Sorry.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I was…ah, forget it. Let’s start over. Hello, Liv. Thanks for having me.”
She broke into a shaky smile. “Hello to you too. What I said was, welcome to the impending apocalypse. Please ignore the total awkwardness of this situation and come in.”
As I stepped into the foyer, her smile faded into a worried expression that clouded her eyes and flattened her lips into a thin line. “I meant what I said on the phone,” I told her, stepping closer so we wouldn’t be overheard. “I won’t cause any trouble.”
“You’d better not.” She rubbed a palm down one of her denim-clad thighs, a gesture I recognized from the other night as a nervous tell. “You promised, Theo. Don’t say anything.”
“Like, not anything at all?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood as much for my own benefit as for hers. “That could get a little weird, don’t you think? Should I claim to only communicate through my music, like a selectively mute virtuoso?”
“This is not funny!” She swatted me on the shoulder, hard enough that I winced. “My parents—you don’t understand. They’re not…forgiving.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I get that. If grudge-holding was an Olympic sport, my mom would medal.”
Both palms were at it now, smoothing the unwrinkled material of her jeans—God, had she ironed them?—again and again. “It’s not just that. I… Have you ever seen Gilmore Girls?”
I blinked at this non sequitur, then nodded warily. A woman had once called me “Luke with a better hairline, more money, and commitment issues,” which had intrigued me enough that I’d watched the first couple of episodes. Much as I hated to admit it, the show had sucked me in. “Why?”
“They’re like Lorelai’s parents,” she said in a rush.
“The country club, the DAR membership, the caring what people think. My dad even went to Yale, and it kills him that I chose Duke instead. They had expectations for me, and then I married Gray and everything went to crap. Now they’re trying to shape Chloe into the daughter they always wanted. ”
Her hands left her jeans, shaking fingers twining in the red waves of her hair instead.
“But most of all—they can be vicious. They’re like…
like a riptide beneath the surface of a gorgeous Caribbean sea.
One second you’re enjoying a margarita on a beach float, and the next, you’re fighting for your life. ”
My heart clenched. Where had the confident woman I’d met the other night gone?
I hadn’t even met her parents yet, and I hated that they could do this to her.
“Look,” I said, taking one of her trembling hands.
They were cold, her fingers clammy. “I promise, all right? I won’t embarrass you.
I won’t make things worse. I’ll be on my best behavior. Believe me. Please?”
Liv opened her mouth to reply as the tinkling of the piano cut off and a little girl came barreling around the corner, red hair flying.
“Mom, Grandma says I can have—” She stopped short, her eyes flicking from Liv to me and back again.
I’d dropped Liv’s hand the moment footsteps sounded in the hallway, but that didn’t stop the girl from giving me the once-over.
Man, she was the spitting image of her mother, except for those dark eyes I assumed she’d inherited from the aggravating ex.
But the wavy, thick red-gold hair, the heartbreaking bone structure, the arched eyebrows and pale skin—all of that was Liv, in miniature.
Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that a side effect of crashing Sunday brunch with the Carter-Brentwoods would mean meeting Liv’s daughter. That was a privilege I was pretty sure was reserved for the ninth or tenth date, not the weekend after a one-night stand.
The girl shifted from one foot to the other, as if trying to contain the spurt of energy that had sent her sprinting into the foyer. “Sorry, Mom, I didn’t hear the bell. Did it even ring? Also, are you our guest?”
Liv seemed at a loss for words, so I gave it a try, hoping I wasn’t screwing things up even worse. “You must be Chloe. I’m Theo, a friend of your mom’s. She invited me to brunch.”
Chloe assessed me. “Nice to meet you,” she said with perfect politeness. “Mom said you played piano. Are you any good?”
“Chloe!” Liv sounded horrified.
“What? I’m just asking. Maybe he’ll play for Grandma. She always says her piano’s going to waste.” The latter was delivered in an upper-crust Northern accent that was clearly meant to be an imitation of her great-grandmother. I bit back a laugh.
“I’m not bad,” I said, when I could trust my voice.
“Anyway, Grandma says I can have her cashmere scarf with the little flowers on it.” Chloe bounced on her toes. “The one Great-Great-Grandpa Charles gave her. But she said I had to ask you first, to be sure. So can I?”
Great-Great-Grandpa Charles. The male half of the couple who had stolen my great-aunt. Five minutes into Carter territory, and somehow, the man had already come up.
Liv’s eyes darted to me. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“But she wants to give me the scarf now!”
“The scarf will still be there after brunch.” Liv squared her shoulders, taking on an air of calm authority that would’ve been right at home in a corporate boardroom. “And we have a guest. Why don’t we go introduce Theo to everyone?”
“Fine. But I won’t forget.” Giving me one last look, Chloe skipped from the room.
“Sorry,” Liv mouthed as we followed in her wake. “She’s a bit of a hurricane.”
“Don’t apologize,” I whispered back, glancing down the hall to make sure she couldn’t overhear. “Yeah, she’s a force of nature, like her mother. But I like it.”
I’d spoken without thinking, but apparently this had been the right thing to say. Liv broke into a wide, natural smile, and the ball of tension inside me unraveled a bit.
As we walked down the hallway to the living room, I took in the richly hued Persian rugs, the walls hung with massive pieces of original artwork, the antique furniture. The air smelled of lemon polish, overlaid with the scents of bacon and maple syrup.
“And here we are,” Liv said as we rounded a corner. “My parents are in the kitchen, I think, but my grandma…”
Huge windows overlooked a sprawling backyard, complete with the obligatory magnolia tree and tire swing.
Logs crackled in a tiled fireplace. There were overstuffed bookshelves, cozy armchairs, a cream-colored couch littered with pillows.
In the corner, a Steinway piano. And at it, sitting on a bench with her back to me—
She was tiny, so much smaller than I’d imagined. She had a purple scarf draped over her shoulders and her hair was the silver-white of the moon. Chloe ran up to her, and then she turned, getting to her feet. She smiled in welcome, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
I scrutinized her face. No pictures of Lily existed; having photographs made was expensive back then, and my family had been too poor for that.
I’d seen photos of Ella, both before and after her disappearance, but the only evidence that Lily resembled her had been May Dressler’s word.
It had been one of the sticking points in the trial.
At ninety-three, Ella Carter bore little resemblance to the small girl in those ancient photos…or to my grandmother. Her face, lined and wrinkled, gave no clues away.
I could have passed her on the street a thousand times and never known that nearly a century ago, her disappearance shaped the destinies of two families.
My greeting froze in my throat. A drop of sweat trickled down my spine.
This was crazy. I’d invaded this woman’s house and was about to lie to her. The Carters might be guilty, but now, so was I. Way to make a first impression.
There was an unexpected ache in the pit of my stomach: regret.
Liv stepped forward, giving me a warning glance, and cleared her throat. “Grandma,” she said, “this is Theo. Theo, this is my grandmother, Ella Carter-Brentwood.”
I forced myself to cross the room, taking the small hand she’d extended. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hello, Theo,” she said in the upper-crust accent Chloe had imitated so precisely. “I understand you’re a gifted musician. My son and daughter-in-law are putting the finishing touches on brunch. While we wait, shall we play?”
She patted the bench next to her and I sat, then put my hands to the keys.