A Collateral Attraction (13 page)

From the moment Heath shuts the door to the passenger side of the Ferrari that Tyler loans him, I feel like I’m in a movie as we head downtown for breakfast. He’s casually dressed in jeans and a blue henley shirt and he’s happy. Even the dimples are making their appearance, and with the convertible top down, we look just like any Santa Barbara couple, enjoying their day together.

We have breakfast at a cafe right on State Street known for its southern-influenced dishes. The place is packed but after a few minutes of waiting, we’re led to a table outside.

He tells me that Ethan and Blythe are staying at the Mariposa, a brand new resort that he and Ethan had invested in years earlier.

“It’s also where we’ll be staying for the rest of the trip,” he adds as I grin from ear to ear. No matter how beautiful Tyler’s property is, I’d rather stay in a ratty motel than spend another night at her guesthouse, whether it sits in the relationship corner on the bagua or not. In fact, my suitcases are already packed right next to the bed, though I don’t tell him.

“What made you change your mind about staying at Tyler’s?”

“It was only just for last night,” he says, “I needed to touch base with her in person and let her know what happened with my meeting with Harris.”

“Do you trust her?”

“I do — when it comes to the company,” he replies, nodding his head. “But she’s not happy with my decision to delay informing the board of the alleged embezzlement, not when it cost her everything she’s worked hard for. And she’s right.”

“Do you think she’ll tell someone?”

“If she does, it’s going to be soon, but she’s willing to give me a few more days before she does — unless I do it first,” he replies, looking up as the waitress arrives with my mimosa served in a mason jar.

“And Harris?”

He shrugs. “It won’t affect him either way if he does or doesn’t, though his priority will be to shield his godson from scandal.”

“And you? Who’s shielding you?”

“Just Wally and Fred,” Heath replies, stroking the back of my hand, a move I find myself welcoming.  His guard is down, and as hard as it was hearing what he said on the plane about me needing to move on, I’ve long accepted the fact that he’s right.  No matter how harsh his words sounded then, someone had to say it out loud.

“Who are Wally and Fred?”

”They’ve only been following us since we left Tyler’s.”

“Are they Tyler’s men?  Like from last night?” I ask, looking around.  Other than people who are dressed casually and probably a combination of locals and tourists, I don’t see anyone who could look like bodyguards — if that’s what Heath means.

“They’re the company’s,” he says. “Kheiron Security was not happy to learn that I had traveled to Saint Lucia, and neither was my own personal security company through Ettinger Holdings.  And Tyler is pissed as hell that I took that risk.”

“So everyone’s pissed off at you, you mean?”

“Yes.”

By the time our breakfast arrives, we stop talking about business. I don’t realize how famished I am till I’m faced with poached eggs on top of crab cakes and a side of avocado salsa, while Heath digs into his order of rib-eye steak and two fried eggs, grilled asparagus and potatoes. We take a few minutes to just eat, and I can’t help but notice how, even through his sunglasses, I can see his eyes watching my every move.

“How come you never told me that Tyler’s a woman?” I ask, taking a sip of my mimosa. Between my coffee and this, I have a feeling I’m going to be on a happy caffeine high for the next few hours.

“Because her being a woman shouldn’t be an issue,” he says.

“Where did you meet her?”

“At Harvard,” he replies. “We were both doing our Masters and we became close.”

“So how did Tyler end up on your board? Did you work with her before?”

“I threw her name into the pool of other names they were considering for Co-Chair,” he says, “though she was already on the list on account of her performance with Credit Suisse. She’s been on other boards before — and she is on one other board as well.”

“Did you ever date her?”

Heath gazes at me for a few moments, a slight smile on his lips. “What if I say yes?”

I shrug. I don’t know why I’m feeling a slight tug in my chest, but maybe it’s just my bra. “Then you said yes.”

“No, I never did,” he replies, chuckling. “I was too engrossed in making my mark in the corporate world to date anyone for that matter — at least seriously. Though it doesn’t mean I didn’t date.”

“I never said you didn’t,” I say, chuckling. “It’s not like you’d be hurting for dates anyway.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t,” he says, the dimples appearing as he grins, “just as I’m sure you weren’t hurting for dates yourself.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t,” I say, though I omit that part where I never see them past the second date, or past the moment they ask, so how is Blythe doing these days?

Besides, the less Heath knows about my lack of a love life after Andrew, the better. In fact, the less he knows about me, the better. It’s not like we’re still stuck in a plane and forced to share our deepest darkest secrets, though as he reaches for my hand along the side of the table, I have to remind myself that this is all part of the charade — the smiles, the hand-holding, the illusion that we are getting along.

“Do you think we’ll run into Ethan and Blythe today?” I ask, pulling my hand away as I take another sip of my mimosa. At the rate I’m going, I’m going to need another one soon. I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I am.

“Ethan should be on the polo grounds practicing right now, though he’ll make the afternoon tea with the tournament sponsors at two,” he says. “Blythe should be there, too.”

I nod and smile, but I don’t say anything.

“Are you nervous?” Heath asks.

“Should I be?” I ask, sipping my drink till the glass is empty. “I think I need another one.”

“And another one it shall be,” he says, flagging the waitress with a glance as she leaves the table after delivering their orders.

We finish breakfast an hour later, sated, and in my case, happier than when I first left Tyler’s house, thanks to the two mimosas I’ve had. When we walk along State Street, I tell Heath how it didn’t look like this when Blythe and I first visited with our parents so many years ago.

“But that was a long time ago, and everything’s changed since then,” I say as I pause in front of a shop window, my gaze falling on a wide-brimmed hat. It reminds me of the hats that I’ve seen women wear to polo matches. Before I can say anything, Heath pulls me towards the shop entrance but I draw away, protesting. “Alicia got me everything I needed for this trip, Heath. I don’t need any more.”

Heath shakes his head. “Alicia got you what she thought you needed, Billie. This time, you’re getting what you want.”

When I still hesitate, he gives me the saddest face he can muster, “Don’t kill my buzz, Billie, please.”

“But you didn’t even drink!” I laugh as I allow him to pull me into the shop. Twenty minutes later, I emerge wearing a Panama hat that was next to the wide-brimmed floppy hat from the window display, which he also bought, sitting now in its own box. He’s also bought me, despite my protests, a lovely white cotton dress with lace cut-outs and matching beige sandals with chunky heels. California chic, he tells me, and perfect for divot stomping during half-time.

I decide then that if Heath wants to buy anything for me, I’m not going to stop him, not when he clearly has better fashion taste than I do. I can’t help but feel giddy as we walk along State Street, one that makes me think I might have a medical condition because my heart feels like it’s bursting with childlike glee. It feels strange but I tell myself to stop analyzing everything for once, and just let go.

Besides, I can always blame it on the mimosas.

By the time we arrive at the country club two hours later, the afternoon tea has begun in a large white tent and the press is in full attendance. Heath is not driving this time. Instead, we’re being driven by the aforementioned Wally and Fred, who work for his company, Ettinger Holdings.  They flew in from New York with Tyler in a private charter and from here on, Heath tells me, they’ll be close by.

For the tea party, Heath is wearing a light button down shirt, white trousers and a navy blue jacket. He looks like he just walked out of a fashion catalog and if not that, then Martha’s Vineyard or the south of France, and he actually blushes when I tell him so. I’m wearing the white dress and the beige sandals that he bought me earlier that morning, and I’m struck by how beautiful it makes me feel, not only because it really is a beautiful ensemble complete with matching gold jewelry and a wide-brimmed floppy hat, but because someone picked it all out for me.

“Isabel Marrant,” he whispers in my ear as we walk past the press line, the clicks of the camera shutters filling the air.

“Who?”

“Who you’re wearing,” he says. “Isabel Marrant.”

And sure enough, as we reach the end of the press line, someone shouts, “Who are you wearing?”

So I beam, and say, “Isabel Marrant,” like I know what the heck I’m talking about, and when they ask me to turn around, I twirl.

Most of the tournament sponsors have their own presentation tables along the sides, and the players of the various teams are posing for pictures and mingling with the VIP guests. Prince Harry isn’t there because he’s due to arrive only on the day of the tournament and already, I hear that tickets to enter the club grounds are going for $400 apiece, while it’s $4,000 each to be in the VIP. On the field, there’s also a game going on between two local teams, which seems like the perfect backdrop for a tea party.

Kheiron Industries is one of the main sponsors though they don’t have their own booth. The presence of two of their board members is more than enough representation, and already, people are coming towards us, greeting Heath before looking at me, almost curiously, and saying something like, Isn’t that Blythe?

But as I scan the tent looking for Blythe, the first person I see is Tyler, standing next to another woman and four men in a semi-circle in the middle of the tent, engaged in friendly discussion. I frown when I see Harris standing at the far end, remembering how he said he’d be here for the tournament, not before that.

As he sees us make our way from the main doors, Harris meets us halfway, pumping Heath’s fist happily before smiling for the cameras, while still shaking Heath’s hand.  There is no sign of the tenuous conversation he and Heath had back in Saint Lucia, nor his animosity towards me when he gives me a kiss on each cheek.

“My dear, you look amazing!” he says, holding me at arms length to admire me.

“Thank you, Harris,” I say, pushing away the memory of him calling me a pathetic copy of Blythe.

“May I talk with you in private?” Harris asks and though I hesitate, I nod and we take a few steps away from Heath who is instantly surrounded by business acquaintances.

“I would like to apologize for the things I said in Saint Lucia,” Harris begins. “I know you heard what I said, Billie. Pam told me you were standing by the trellis for some time before she got there.”

I avoid his gaze, and though I know I’m probably acting like a petulant child, I actually don’t know what to do.

“But whether you were standing there or not, I was out of line to say what I said. I was very angry at Heath and Ethan, for yet another fight between them, another argument that I felt I needed to put a stop to. And because of that, I let my anger get the best of me.” His grandfather tone is back again and I look up at him, though I still don’t say anything.

“I promised their father that I’d keep an eye on them, even though they’re all adults.  But they’ve always been rivals since they were little boys, not that Edgar didn’t encourage it,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s not right, this thing that’s going on between them, Billie, not right at all.  And between Ethan showing up at my doorstep with those letters that he stole from his mother, and then Heath with his news of the embezzlement — well, you can only imagine my state of mind. I may be Ethan’s godfather, Billie, but all of them — Ethan, Jessie, and Heath — they’re like my own kids, Daniel and Sylvia.  She’s Pam’s mother, and she says hello, by the way.”

“Tell her hello for me, too.”

He exhales and rests one hand over his chest. “Even if you can’t forgive me, Billie, please know that my apology is sincere. That’s all I can do on my end, but I will understand if you cant-”

“I forgive you, Harris. Even the best among us make mistakes,” I say with a smile. Of course I’m going to forgive him. Charade or not, the last thing I want is a resentful Harris Colman.

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, pulling me towards him in another one of his grandfatherly hugs. “Heath is very lucky to have you, Billie. That boy sure needs a bit of sunshine in his life and you’re it. After their father died, it was a hell of a time for him, what with corporate matters and all. He hasn’t had a break since, running two companies at the same time.”

“He makes it look easy.”

“He tries though sometimes it makes me wonder if the strain is too much for him,” Harris says, glancing over at Heath who is in conversation with two older men. “And I truly hope this charge of embezzlement against Blythe is nothing but a huge mistake, a misunderstanding. Maybe an oversight on Ethan’s part, even. Polo is like a demanding lover, and thank God he’s got his own taking care of his schedule and everything else, or he wouldn’t be able to get back his old ranking as one of the world’s top players.”

“It must be tough.”

“I’ve launched my own investigation into this whole mess though I’ve yet to see the findings,” he says. “I truly hope that Heath is just wrong.”

“Will you tell the board?”

He shakes his head. “I’d rather step down and let Heath or Tyler make the announcement to the board members themselves, and even file the charges against whoever is responsible. I have to admit, Billie, I’m too old for this. All I want is a cushy retirement and a life without the usual intrigue that goes behind the scenes in the corporate world. It’s much more brutal than soap operas on TV,” he says. “However, it does have its perks — like this tea party, for example, where I get to see you. I hope you go out there during half-time and stomp some divots.”