11. An Individual Memory
11
AN INDIVIDUAL MEMORY
W hat the fuck possessed him to invite Charlotte to dinner?
Foster was moving around his house faster than ever before trying to find any sign of who he was.
Three pictures were taken off the shelves in his living room and put in a drawer. Then he rearranged a few other things to take up those spaces and all it did was show dust.
Shit!
He got a rag and cleaner and tackled that as best as he could.
His mail, which he’d grabbed on the way in, was shoved in his desk.
After a quick glance at the first floor, he didn’t see anything that showed he was West Carlisle’s younger brother.
He threw his clothes in the laundry, then jumped in the shower. He had two hours before Charlotte returned and used that time to clean up some more.
When there was a knock at the door at five, he went to answer it.
“What did you make?” he asked.
“Blondies,” she said.
“Yum,” he said. “I’ll take any cookie you want to give me.”
She blushed when he said that. He hadn’t meant it any way other than the words but realized it could have come off as he was hitting on her.
He kind of was, but he never considered himself smooth enough to pull those types of lines off.
“It’s bright in here,” she said, coming into his foyer. He didn’t live in the front of the house. His office was there with a view of the trees and landscaping. If he had too nice of a view he might stay in there longer than he needed to.
His dining room was on the other side and not a room he’d used more than a handful of times.
He didn’t host too many dinner parties and when his mother visited, she stayed with West and not him.
“Sterile,” he said. “I told you it was.”
Everything was gray or white. Even his dining room furniture.
“Not really,” she said. “It’s more modern than anything. Contemporary. I think I didn’t expect that of you.”
“I’m simple,” he said. “I didn’t have to worry about matching too much if I kept it all white, black and gray. Where is Marco?”
“I left him home,” she said. “He’s pretty much house-trained, but I don’t want to worry about him leaving a mess in here. Not on these nice wood floors. Which I have to say the dark wood is a beautiful contrast.”
“I did a lot of work in the house when I bought it,” he said.
“It shows,” she said.
“Follow me to the back,” he said. They moved down a hallway. “There is a half bath here if you need it.”
She popped her head in. “Cute. Functional.”
He snorted. “My mother always says she wants to get her hands on my house and throw color on the walls.”
“I think that would take away from who you are. Holy cow.”
“What?” he asked and turned to look at her face. Her jaw was open and she was staring right ahead. He hoped to hell there wasn’t some picture of West in the house that he hadn’t seen.
“That view.”
“It’s great, isn’t it? Nothing but vast water in the distance.”
“I don’t think I’d leave this spot if I didn’t have to. My sister’s house is stunning and they live up on a cliff somewhat looking out on the water. Lots of glass too. It reminds me of their house in a way. Even down to the decor. But Drew is pretty bougie and you’re not.”
“Hardly that,” he said.
“Amanda put her touch on it. She’s more like me and likes color and softness, but there isn’t anything I would change in here and I’m not sure why.”
She was looking around at his kitchen and family room. It was all open to the other. The only eating area was the massive island holding six chairs. He wasn’t sure why he went so big when he never had that many people in the house.
“It just feels right to me,” he said.
“Which a home should do.”
He set the dish down of dessert. “Can I get you a drink? I’ve got beer. No wine. I don’t drink it or keep it in the house. I guess I could have left to get some.”
“Water is good,” she said.
He opened his fridge and pulled out the ground beef, then reached for a bottle of water for her.
“I’m just going to mix the beef and some seasoning. I’ve got the grill lit and some potatoes on it already. They take a bit more time and have been cooking already. Baked potatoes. Hope that was fine.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope,” he said. “You can sit and relax since you baked.”
She moved to the island and pulled a stool out. “Is this a picture of you and your parents?”
He turned his head quickly. Son of a bitch. He forgot about that on the side of the island. His mother had placed it there on a small shelf so that when she was sitting in the living room she could see it.
Charlotte had the frame in her hand. “Yes,” he said, picking it up to look at it. He was ten in the picture. He put it back just so he could check to make sure there weren’t any more pictures there.
“Sorry I upset you by saying that. You look like your father there.”
“It didn’t really upset me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Don’t worry about it. You looked so happy in that picture. I expected a big family picture and not just you and them.”
“That was the year before my father died. Every time my father was home, we had to have a big family picture taken and then one of us each with our parents. My mother always said it was the right thing to do. That we all should have an individual memory.”
“What a sweet thing,” she said, sniffling some. “I’m so jealous. All the family pictures in my house, no one is smiling. Or if they are, it’s forced. I think I thought I was happy for years, but looking back I never was.”
“Can I ask why?” he asked. He knew if he did, it’d open it up for her to ask him questions and he’d have to field them as they came.
“My parents were hard on us. My mother had this image in her head of a wealthy family and what they should act like.”
“Your parents are wealthy?” he asked.
“No. Not like you think. My father worked his way up in the banking industry. We were upper middle class I guess. My mother didn’t work. She stayed home with us and liked to host or be on fundraising committees. We lived in Philly. There is some old money there and she tried to rub elbows with them.”
“I’m not the rubbing-elbow type of person,” he said.
“It felt like we weren’t able to be kids. Someone was always watching, my mother would say. When Amanda was a teen, she started to date a kid who came from one of those old money families. His father was an attorney.”
“Your mother had to eat that up,” he said. “By the sounds of it.”
“She did. Until Amanda got pregnant,” she said. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.”
“It won’t go any further,” he said.
“I think that is why I feel comfortable saying it.”
“We all have secrets in our lives. I’m sure you’ve got yours.”
“I do,” she said. “Because you’re right. Anyone who says they don’t is just lying.”
He nodded. He was thrilled she’d agreed with that statement even if he wanted to know what her secrets were.
“They would be lying,” he said. “Go on if you want.”
“Randall, that was Amanda’s boyfriend. He went away to Harvard. He just ghosted her. She was able to hide the pregnancy at the end of the school year and no one knew. Randall and his parents knew. My parents knew. No one was happy. My mother was embarrassed and wanted her to terminate the pregnancy.”
“How old was your sister?”
“Eighteen when she graduated and she wasn’t doing it. She is the mothering nurturing type. She wanted their child. But unfortunately, she lost the baby later in her pregnancy. My mother was horrible to Amanda during the labor. She still had to give birth to a stillborn. Randall’s parents had given her money prior to take the child and leave their son and move away.”
“All of that is horrible,” he said.
Jesus. He couldn’t imagine his mother doing anything like that. His mother would bitch slap Charlotte’s parents for even thinking that.
“Why did you smile?” she asked.
“What?”
“You just smiled. Why?”
“Sorry. I was thinking my mother would have a few choice words for your mom.”
“She wouldn’t have cared or listened,” she said. “But I suppose it’s a nice thought. Moving on, Amanda took the money and left town days later and didn’t talk to my parents for years. She had very little communication with me either.”
“Did you feel the same way as your parents?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he’d like that. No, he knew he wouldn’t like it.
“No, but I didn’t want to go against them. I saw the treatment of Amanda.”
“Self-preservation,” he said. “How old were you?”
“Fifteen,” she said. “An impressionable age and I made some poor decisions in my life because of that.”
“Don’t think of the ones you made in the past, but rather the ones you’ll make in the future.”
“You’re pretty smart,” she said.
“I try to be,” he said. “I won’t say I’m the smartest in my family, but I get busted on about it.”
She smiled. “I’m happy to say Amanda and I mended our relationship years ago. I’d been dating someone and was in Boston. I saw her shopping. Crazy fate to run into her when I was on vacation. I still had her number. She looked so happy and I wasn’t. I caved and called her. She was there for me when I never thought she’d be.”
All he heard was she wasn’t happy. “What was going on in your life? Or is that one of those secrets?”
“Nothing more than life wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped. I had a boyfriend like my last. He liked me for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t have a job I enjoyed. After we’d split is when I went back to get my MBA.”
“So you started making changes right then,” he said. “Good for you.”
“I find it sad in a way that I have to look at my sister’s life to see everything she went through and how her life turned out for me to realize I want that too. That was why I ended things with Landon. I’d just come back from visiting Amanda and saw the life she had with Drew on Amore Island. I mean, I get it, she’s married to a Bond. It’s not like I want that kind of life, but just her happiness. She is being her and doing her thing and owns a salon and her husband is so supportive of everything she does. To me, that’s the dream.”
“Your sister is married to Drew Bond?” he asked.
Fuck. Not that he knew Drew personally, but West had some business dealing with Scott Bond, who was Drew’s father.
He knew for a fact if his full name was brought up around her sister’s husband, he’d know right away who Foster might be.