The Wilde Stranger

Chapter 15

fifteen

. . .

Sadie

Work trucks dotted the long, paved driveway up to my parents' two-story Tudor-style mansion. "Just stop here," I told the Uber driver. Her mouth hung open as she stared up at the house.

I dropped my pack over one shoulder and walked between two painting trucks.

It seemed Mom was renovating again. She would finish one room and move on to the next, even if that room had been renovated just a few years back.

It was a continuous cycle with my mom, a woman with far too much money and time on her hands.

Paint colors, flooring and wallpaper were at the top of her priority list. She couldn't have cared less what was happening in her children's lives except when someone won an award or contest or scholarship.

Then she would have her friends over for tea and a big session of boasting.

I was the only one who'd never earned center stage in one of those boast sessions.

I was fairly certain most of her friends had forgotten that Harold and Margaret Rivers even had a daughter.

I'd had a key long ago but lost it in a laundromat. I laughed at the time, thinking about how horrified my parents would've been to know that the keys to their luxurious home were floating around a dilapidated laundromat.

I rang the bell, and Ingrid's voice came over the intercom.

"Yes, who is it?" she asked. Ingrid had been my mom's loyal housekeeper for years.

I spent a lot of time with Ingrid. She was sweet and had interesting stories to tell about her small village in Albania.

If I was upset about something that happened at school, I'd go to Ingrid long before I went to my mom.

I leaned closer to the intercom. "Hi Ingrid, it's me, Sadie." The door clicked open and I walked inside. I heard Ingrid's flat orthopedic shoes shuffling along the marble tile floor before I shut the door.

"My little Sadie." She raised her soft pudgy arms. She'd shrunk a little in height and her beautiful skin had softened enough that it hung in delicate folds off the edge of her chin. Her eyes were still a sparkly brown, and her smile was wonderfully familiar.

I dropped my pack and walked into her hug. She always smelled faintly like cinnamon because of the tea she drank every afternoon. I hadn't realized just how badly I needed a friendly hug until I found myself hanging onto her far longer than was necessary for a greeting.

"Uh-oh, my little Sadie is not happy." She leaned back and looked me up and down. "And skinny, too. You need one of my grilled cheese sandwiches. I'll make it right now."

I was still stuffed with pizza but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. "Oh yes, thank you so much, Ingrid."

"I'll make up your room. Your mom isn't painting that one." She rolled her eyes. It wasn't easy trying to keep house in a place that was under constant construction.

"Where are they?" I asked.

"Last I saw, your father was in his study on the phone, and your mother was rethinking the color she chose for the dining room. They already finished painting it, but she's decided she doesn't like the shade of peach she chose so they'll be painting it again." Another eye roll.

"Well, if they're both busy, I'll join you in the kitchen. I need grilled cheese fortification before I face them."

Ingrid smiled weakly. She was a staff member in the household, but she always knew what was going on because my mom often confided in her. "Come, let's go to the kitchen. There's a new chef, but he took the day off for his daughter's birthday, so we have the place to ourselves."

We reached the kitchen without a parent intercept, and as far as I was concerned, I didn't have to see either parent all day.

I was so flustered and frazzled by everything that had happened in the past few days, the notion of one of Ingrid's buttery grilled cheeses, a hot bath and then bed for the rest of the evening sounded heavenly.

I was so angry at Ace that I couldn't imagine ever speaking to him again.

But I'd made him a two-part promise to stop his blackmail tricks.

I would speak to Mom and Dad or at least let them rant and rave at me for a while, and I wouldn't see Colin again.

The last part of the promise made my stomach knot up with disappointment.

Colin had been the only bright spot in the last few days.

I'd left a little piece of my heart behind with him.

But I didn't want to be the cause of his financial and professional ruin.

It was amazing just how much havoc "a tiny slip of a thing" could wreak so quickly.

I pulled a stool up to the kitchen island.

Butter sizzled on the frying pan, and a pleasing moment of nostalgia swept through me.

On rainy days or days when I'd had a tough time at school, which happened a lot, Ingrid would bring me into the kitchen for a snack and a chat and I always felt better afterward.

She'd pulled on her blue checked apron. She smiled as she dropped the bread onto the pan.

"So, tell me, Sadie, what's going on? I know your parents received something in the mail, something that has them both quite upset."

Ingrid turned with the spatula and gave me a pointed look. "I suppose you're in some kind of trouble."

I sighed. "Oh Ingrid, you know how my life is like a terrible never-ending roller-coaster ride?"

"Yes, but I don't think you'd have it any other way." She turned back to the stove and flipped the sandwich. It sizzled again. "Would you like this with a slice of tomato?"

"Nope, too healthy. Just butter and cheese, thanks."

Ingrid placed the sandwich on a plate and sat on a stool next to me. "What's going on, Sadie?"

I took a bite and closed my eyes to bring back the wonderful memories that came with that bite. "You're still the queen of the grilled cheese, Ingrid."

She laughed lightly and pushed some hair off my forehead. "I like what you've done to your hair."

"Do you? Thanks. Mom will hate it. And then I'll like it even more."

Ingrid placed her hand on my arm. "What's happened, Sadie? I can see in your face that it's taking its toll, whatever it is."

"I took a photo. It's a picture that would be quite explosive if I released it. It would earn me great recognition, but it would turn some lives upside down, so I haven't found the courage to post it or sell it."

"So the note—"

"Yes, I have some people trying to get the photo from me, and they are not nice people."

Ingrid touched her mouth lightly. "Oh, Sadie—"

"Yep, so typical. I finally get that one photo that will launch my career, but it comes with a whole bunch of baggage."

Ingrid's gray brows bunched with worry. "You should stay here. It's safe here with all the security cameras and gates."

"I'll stick around if it's all right with Mom and Dad."

Ingrid sighed. "Of course it will be all right. I know you've always felt like the odd man out—"

I covered my mouth to avoid spitting out food from laughter. "Understatement. And it's more like the odd-daughter out."

"Still, in their own awkward way, they love you and worry about you."

"Mom worries about me in between picking paint colors, and Dad only worries that I'll embarrass the family."

"No, I know better than that. Why, just the other day I found your mom poring over your baby album photos. She went on and on about how you'd been beautiful since the day you were born."

"I guess it's good that I'm at least pretty enough for the family, but in every other way they consider me a failure. This photo would show Dad that I'm a good photographer. He's always thought it was just a silly hobby."

"Wrong again. He looks at your website, occasionally, to see what you've posted. He cares more than he lets on."

"Was that Sadie I heard at the door?" Dad's baritone voice rolled down the hallway. He reached the kitchen. "You're here. Meet me in the study right now." He spun away and marched off in his expensive leather shoes.

I raised a brow at Ingrid. "Think my point has been made," I said.

"Like I said, they show it in an awkward way."

I laughed and hugged her. "Delicious sandwich and I'm so glad you were the first person to greet me at the door. It was the fortification I needed to walk into the lion's den or, in this case, study."

Dad had the nerve to be back on the phone just seconds after ordering me into his study for a meeting.

He waved briskly for me to sit in one of his tall leather chairs.

They'd cost a fortune and were easily the most uncomfortable chairs in the world.

He finished his call as abruptly as he'd waved me over.

"We'll wait for your mother," he said coldly and sat at his desk. He began searching through papers as if he was the principal waiting for my parents so he could throw the book at me.

"Hello, Dad, good to see you, too." It had been at least five months since I'd seen either parent. It was quite a contrast to the warm greeting Ingrid gave me.

"Don't be smart with me, young lady. You've gotten yourself into something dangerous. The police have the note, but it was very threatening and it was addressed to you. And how the hell did your acquaintances or enemies or God knows who find our address?"

"I thought we were waiting for Mom." Not that she would provide any kind of buffer, but I needed a moment to gird my loins against the onslaught that was coming my way.

Mom came in just then. "I'm sorry I'm late, dear.

I don't think this painter is doing a good job.

I'm going to cancel their contract after this.

" She reached over and patted me on the top of the head, like someone might do for their dog.

Her sweet perfume surrounded me. I never liked it.

I enjoyed Ingrid's cinnamon tea scent much more.

"Hello, Sadie. Good to see you. You look thin, and what is with the white hair? "

She sat down in the other uncomfortable chair and crossed her legs primly. I was sure it was to let me know that my casual feet on the ground, knees slightly parted wasn't ladylike. The truth was Dad had already pushed all the air out of my sails, and I was slumping out of habit.

"Good to see you, Mom." The woman had had more work done on her face.

Soon her brows would be at her hairline.

She was naturally very beautiful and was aging like any well-kept rich woman, but she still felt the need to chase away the age lines and wrinkles.

I intended to age gracefully, like a raisin in the sun, to let everyone know I was old, that I'd fucking made it to oldness.

Dad rested his forearms on the desk in front of him. "Please explain why we are receiving threatening notes that look like something a kidnapper or murderer might put together."

"It's not a kidnapper or murderer. I snapped a photo—remember that's my profession—and the content of the picture could be considered scandalous and newsworthy." I decided the last adjective gave me more clout as a professional, but Dad wasn't impressed.

"Well, I will need that photo and the negative right now. I want to hand them over to the police, so they can trace this note to the perpetrator. I assume the person in the photo is the culprit."

I had to hold back a smile at his old-fashioned police movie terminology. "You can't have either. They are not here. They're somewhere secure. I know who sent the note. I'll take care of it. You don't need to get the police involved."

"But sweetheart, if you're in danger," Mom started but was interrupted by Dad smacking his hand down on the desk. A few papers fluttered to the floor from the impact.

"I need those on my desk tomorrow, Sadie. End of discussion."

"Right, so we'll just do whatever you decide because you are the king of the house, and my career and life don't matter."

Dad huffed loudly. "You're being dramatic. One photo can't be that important." He pulled out a cigar. He loved pointing out how insignificant my life and career were.

"Dear, not now. We're having a family discussion, and you know both Sadie and I hate the smell of cigars.

" I couldn't believe she'd actually spoken up to let him know she disapproved.

He put the cigar down but not without grumbling something angrily under his breath.

Ten years ago, my mom never would have asked him not to light up, and he would have laughed in her face if she had.

Maybe my parents were finally entering the twenty-first century.

Although he was still doing a crackerjack job at being the controlling, demanding patriarch.

"If we're through with this discussion, I'd like to go up and take a bath," I said.

"As long as we're clear about my expectations," Dad said.

"Yes, sir. Your expectations must always be met." I got up, and Mom took my hand.

She smiled up at me as if we'd just finished a pleasant, warm conversation. "I'll have Ingrid make your favorite, macaroni and cheese."

Macaroni and cheese sounded like overkill after the grilled cheese, but Mom seemed so pleased with herself for remembering "my favorite," I nodded and kissed her on the cheek.

I headed upstairs to my bedroom. It still contained a lot of my things, including a collection of vintage cameras and the stuffed animals I collected as a kid, but half of it had been turned into a storage area where rolling racks of my mom's dresses and gowns sat waiting to never be worn again like most of her clothes.

I turned on the tub and poured in the lavender bubble bath I found under the sink.

It was a little too flowery for my taste, but the bubbles were a must. I undressed and climbed into the warm, fragrant water and closed my eyes.

I could still feel Colin's hands and mouth on me.

My pussy ached from being with him. It was about as amazing as sex could be.

He was a perfect lover. And I had to walk away from him.

God, this family sucked. And Dad would have his photo and negative tomorrow.

I just had to decide which photo and negative would go nicely with a tacky ransom note.