Enchanted Heart (29 page)

“Lance, I don't want to talk. There's nothing to talk about. What happened was an accident.”

“That accident as you call it is going to be our child.”

Viv closed her eyes. “Just take me home, Lance. Now. Please,” the plea so soft it was almost a pathetic mewl. That sound more than her pleas got to him.

They talked even less on the drive back to Norfolk. Since Lance had left his car at the lingerie shop, they returned to Guilty Pleasures. Lance looked at the sign and the thought crossed his mind that they were in this predicament because they'd succumbed to a guilty pleasure, without paying any mind to the possible consequences.

Lance got out of Viv's car, walked around to her door and opened it for her. A moment later, she slipped behind the wheel.

“Good night, Lance.”

He halted her when she would have shut the door. “Vivienne, please. Please promise me you won't do anything to . . . well, to it. Let's talk first, okay? Promise me.”

She sighed, then nodded.

“Say it,” he urged. “Tell me you won't get an abortion. Let's talk about what our options are, all right?”

“All right, Lance,” she conceded. But he didn't think she meant it.

“All right what?”

“God! Lance, leave me the hell alone. I said I wouldn't do anything hasty. Now get out of my way.” She yanked on the door, slammed it shut, not mindful of the hem of her jacket that was caught in the door. She peeled off down the street. And Lance hightailed it to his car. He'd be damned if he'd let his future hurtle out of his life.

He'd never wanted a baby before. He'd never even thought about children except in an abstract, way-off-in-the-future sort of reality that had no bearing on his current or immediate plans.

So Lance found himself somewhat bewildered to discover that he wanted this child with Vivienne. Maybe it had something to do with missing out on Tarique's life. Maybe it had to do with his grandmother's taunts about him not having or taking on any adult responsibility.

Maybe it was just a part of getting older and wanting to leave a legacy. Wasn't that what Cole always preached about—past, current, lost and future legacies? A child, maybe another son, to carry his name. Or a daughter he could love and protect. But before he could go out buying Barbie dolls or basketballs, they had to get through Viv's apparent massive aversion to children.

Everybody started out as a kid. What wasn't there to like?

Vicki paused.
Ain't that the truth,
she thought.
My problem is I was born.

Vicki smiled at the image. Though she knew no child created by Lance Heart Smith and her sister would pop out looking like burnt toast. Like Halle Berry, maybe. But not burnt toast.

“And we're back to that again,” Vicki said wearily. She rubbed her temple and reached for the glass of wine on the bedside table.

Vicki's own depression, a result of living sequestered away like the ghoul Lance suspected her of being, had taken a toll. If it hadn't been for that blasted drug test when she'd gotten her job, she'd have been able to keep hidden from her employer the truth of her physical appearance and disability. Her skills and the blessing of the Internet had been her salvation on that score.

But she was tired of it all. Tired of the half-truths and lies she told people on a regular basis that kept her hidden away. Tired of the fact that she'd never had the opportunity to be a whole woman with a man like Clay.

For a moment, her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She should tell him. But if she told him, he'd reject her.

Vicki sat there for a long time, the laptop open on the bed. She had been depressed ever since Viv blurted out the pregnancy news. Instead of unifying the sisters, the crisis just brought home to Vicki how very different they were. If Viv had the baby, Vicki would get to mother the child. Viv didn't have the patience, time or desire to focus on anything except what she wanted. Viv might be beautiful, but she was also selfish and condescending. Though, when honest with herself, Vicki thought that the condescension may have been a reflection of her own mistrust.

It was late, and as usual, Viv wasn't home yet. It was a work night, too. Vicki wondered which one of the men she'd go to tonight. Viv always needed to feel affirmed when she was unsure about things and the way she did that was to have someone remind her of how beautiful she was. Viv said Lance had gotten her pregnant, but Vicki wondered if Vivienne even knew for sure.

Lance and Viv were a perfectly matched set. And not just a result of the gene-and-DNA combination that had created them. On the rare occasion when Viv offered up any info about Lance, she complained about things that she apparently couldn't see in herself. Lance and Viv were mirror images of the same person.

Vicki, the broken mirror image, wanted so much more for herself.

“Dammit!” Vicki threw a pillow across the room.

Her latest—and biggest—lie to date had created a complication.

Sending Clay Viv's photograph had been a mistake. A huge one. In their nightly e-mails he'd eased up a bit on the pressure to get together, but Vicki knew that was only because she'd threatened to stop writing him if he didn't stop rushing and hassling her.

Vicki took a deep breath. “It's now or never,” she said. “Just get it over with. If he dumps you, well, he's not the man you thought he was anyway.”

The pep talk didn't make what she was about to do any easier.

24

T
he rest of the week was as jacked up as Wednesday had been. Twice Lance had been to the compound to see his grandmother, and each time he'd been told by Penelope that he'd just missed her.

“I'm starting to believe that you're putting me off,” he'd told the maid.

“Now you've up and hurt my feelings. She's out shopping. For her cruise. And I can tell you this, I've never seen her so excited. She's like a little kid.”

“Regular sex'll do that,” Lance muttered.

“Beg pardon?”

“Nothing,” he said as he stalked away.

He wouldn't miss her today though. He was camped out in the driveway, waiting for his opportunity to extract first blood.

For once the blame for this situation didn't fall at his feet. He'd own up to the part about running off to get married in Mexico at seventeen, but his grandmother had created this situation.

No way would Gayla and Tarique be where they were today if they'd all been together as a family.

Lance had never given much thought to that word. In Lance's experience, family meant arguing over stock options, battles in boardrooms, Cole and his cousin Mallory at each other's throats, Cole and Virginia going at it, his own mother retreating to Florida rather than being a party to the nonstop drama.

People on the outside looking in thought the Hearts lived charmed lives in their big houses and with bank accounts overflowing with profits from the chain of department stores the family owned. The reality: A few, those who'd managed their assets well, including Cole and his grandmother, did have lots of money. The primary players, as his cousin Lucia called them, “the mainline money,” had pocketed millions in the sale of the stores to the Knight and Kraus chain. And Lance, being an heir of Coleman Heart II, had gotten his good share.

The rest of the family, the hangers-on, Hearts by marriage or affairs, maintained an elaborate facade of aging wealth. And just about all of the grandchildren—Lance being the exception because Cole had initially managed his income—worked for a living.

Lance pulled a small notebook from the glove box. While he waited for his grandmother, he began to jot down some ideas for the consulting business to which he hadn't given much thought. That business, after all, was why he'd been initially interested in Viv.

His mouth quirked up. Well, one of the initial reasons.

As a professional model, Viv could put him in touch with the right people, give him a few pointers on dealing with her world. But his dream for his own company had somehow gotten stifled in the middle of all the other drama. And the sex. The sex had definitely gotten in the way. And look what had happened there.

Lance figured he ought to be counting himself lucky that he didn't have a slew of kids running around. He'd always been careful about that, so very careful.

But now, Viv was pregnant. Taking care of that baby and of Tarique would require not only a consistent income, but a father whom they could look up to, a role model. Lance bent his head to his notebook again, this time seriously mapping out a business plan.

His opportunity to confront Virginia never came. A cramp in his leg let him know he'd been sitting awhile. He put the notebook down and got out of the car. More than an hour had passed. He told Penelope to leave a message that he'd be back. Lance wanted to get to the bottom of what had happened to Gayla, and Virginia had answers. Even though he hadn't seen Virginia and was spoiling for a fight, he'd discovered just what he wanted to do with his own consulting firm.

 

 

The last thing Lance felt like dealing with was a crowd of people pushing and shoving. The driving beat of hip-hop from oversized speakers blared in four corners of the recreation center gym. Outside it was worse. The crowd pressed close to the fry stations where deep-fried catfish beckoned hungry palates, and juicy burgers, flipped on the grill and dressed out with lettuce and tomato straight from the farmer's market, awaited eager hands.

Between the incessant beat of the music, the excited yelling of kids and teenagers, and smoke from both the grill and cigarettes blown in his face, Lance opted for the relative quiet of the gymnasium. Only about two hundred people were crammed in there.

“Here, you look like a truck ran over you.” T.J. pressed a hot dog and bun with what looked like chili and jalapenos on top, into Lance's hand.

T.J.'s assessment hit the mark.

“Rough night,” Lance said. He shook his head and handed the hot dog back but snagged one of two icy cold cans of Coke from under T.J.'s arm and pressed it to his forehead. “Look, man, I need to jet soon. I've got some business to see to.”

“I was hoping to do the computer draw at five. The TV crew will be here for a live shot on the five o'clock news.”

Lance groaned. “This was supposed to be a quiet thing.”

“Well, the folks from the computer store are supposed to be here then. They want to make a big splash, too, since you talked them into donating the equipment.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off a headache, Lance groaned. Sure, he'd put things into motion, but his contribution today—a smile and a handshake—hardly seemed worth the fuss. But T.J. was happy. He'd also been talking about a seat for Lance on the rec center's board of directors.

“No thanks,” Lance had told him.

It had been an expensive month and things were going to cost a whole lot more now that he had a son and another child on the way. He wasn't in a position to be on anybody's board, since what they did most was fork over cash or find other people to do that. His plate was already filled with more than he could handle at the moment. Namely, a wife he wanted to get rid of. But in Gayla's current mood, he knew she'd hardly agree to a divorce without a huge settlement.

Lance swore.

“You're in a mood today. What's up?”

Lance shook his head. “I don't want to talk about it. At least not now.”

T.J. slapped him on the back. “All right.” Someone called for T.J. “I'll be right there.” Then, back at Lance, “Five o'clock, Lance.”

Lance nodded. This must be how Cole felt when Lance and his secretary had set him up to work all day at a community-wide spruce-up-the-neighborhood event. Trapped. Lance didn't have anything against community work—unless it was cleaning out ditches on the side of the road. Today just wasn't the day for being civic-minded. He had too much personal stuff with which to deal.

“And remember,” T.J. said. “You started this. I'm not the one who gave a bunch of kids . . .”

Lance held up a hand. “All right, already.”

A glance at his watch made him groan again. An hour to kill. No way in hell he'd last another hour. He'd kept an eye out for Tarique, in the unlikely event the boy put in an appearance at the block party. From what T.J. had said though, Tarique was probably planning or executing a rip-off, probably of some of the very people who were here today hoping to win a free computer.

“Tell you what,” Lance told T.J. “I'll be back about ten to the hour. I gotta get some air.”

He excused-me his way to the door leading to the rec center's back lot, when a flash of blue caught his eye.

“Tarique!”

The boy turned around. “What're you doing here?”

Lance didn't quite know what to make of the belligerent tone. He'd neither said nor done anything to the boy. “Hello, Tarique.”

The child shrugged, as if Lance's presence was of no consequence to him.

“Where's your mother?”

The boy snorted. “If you can't keep track of your woman, don't expect me to.”

Had Gayla told Tarique that he was his father? She'd promised that they'd do it together.

“What did your mother tell you about me?”

Tarique eyed him. “She ain't tell me shit.”

“Cussing make you feel grown-up?”

“Pimping make you feel like a big man?”

Lance didn't know what to make of the boy. He was ten years old, going on forty-five. “I'm not a pimp.”

“Then what you doing hanging out with my mama? That's the only kind of man she like, less you . . .” The boy's eyes widened, and he nodded sagely. “You need a runner? I'm quick. I know all the area.”

For a minute Lance didn't know what the boy was talking about. Then realization hit. Not only did Tarique think he was a drug dealer, he was standing there asking for a job!

How could so much go so wrong so quickly in such a young life?

“I'm not a dealer. Your mother and I . . . well, we're, uh, friends. We go way back.”

Tarique smirked. “Yeah, okay. Friends. Well, friend, all that money you gave her is gone. Smoked up.”

“Smoked up?”

“Exactly how stupid are you?” Tarique asked.

Lance snatched the boy by the collar. “Let's go for a ride.”

“Hey, this is kidnapping.”

“Yeah, well I've done it before.” He nodded toward a cop who'd just walked in the door. “If you'd prefer, I can tell that kind officer about that bike you're riding around on. Something tells me your mama didn't buy it for you. Care to shed a little light on how it came to be in your possession?”

Tarique jerked away. “Leave me alone.”

“You can come with me or we can stay right here and talk about things.”

“I ain't got nothing to say to you.”

And before Lance could move, the boy darted out the door and disappeared into the crowd.

Lance swore.

“You know, that language is really a bad influence on the kids.”

He didn't acknowledge T.J. at his side.

“What's up with you and Trouble Stewart?”

“Trouble?”

“I told you man, that boy is nothing but trouble with a capital T. If those computers weren't under lock and key right now, I'd guess he was trying to steal them. He's not even supposed to be in here.”

“He's just a kid. He can't be all that bad.”

T.J. shook his head. “He's working on it.”

Lance stared straight ahead. “Maybe all he needs is a mentor, a father figure.”

“Uh-huh,” T.J. said, not even bothering to shield his skepticism. “Be my guest, but don't say I didn't warn you. And look out for the rims on your car.”

 

 

After finishing up his civic and charitable duties with T.J. at the rec center, Lance took three aspirin to ease the headache that had been torturing him. At this rate, he was turning into Cole. He rarely got headaches and surmised it had more to do with the people and situations with which he'd been dealing lately. A plane flew low overhead. Tracking it as it headed in the direction of Fort Eustis, Lance thought about Cole. By now, he would be settled in his hotel room and, knowing Cole, hunched over a laptop instead of out enjoying the sights and sounds of Rio.

“Cole, my brother, you just don't know how to live.”

Lance laughed at the thought, then quickly sobered. Cole's life might be typically suburban, even pedestrian. The erudite Coleman Heart III would never find himself stuck with a pregnant girlfriend, a secret wife and a belligerent kid. The only good thing about this whole mess was that things couldn't get much worse.

He pulled into the drive at his grandmother's house and parked behind the Cadillac he recognized as Miss Lily's. When he was a kid, he'd had a crush on his grandmother's elegant best friend. As an adult, he could still appreciate what a beautiful woman she still was.

This time, Lance didn't play the front door game. He went around to the side where he knew the two women probably were.

“Grandmother?”

No one answered, though the door was open. He pushed it and went into the house.

“Grandmother? Miss Lily? Is anybody home?”

Penelope appeared. Her hair was a mess, the shirt she had on was buttoned all wrong, and something white was smeared on her face. Lance raised an eyebrow.

She cast a quick glance backward, toward the wing that held bedrooms. “Lance. Uh, what are you doing here?”

He grinned and advanced on her. “Hmm, having a good day?”

“Come on, Lance. Give a girl a break.”

“Do I know him?”

She glanced back again. “Uh, maybe. You've missed her again.”

“But Miss Lily's car is outside.”

Penelope nodded. “She left it here while they're gone. Whatever it is you want will have to wait. They won't be back for ten days.”

Lance swore. He ran a hand over his head. “All right. Well, I guess I'll have to deal with that later.”

He leaned forward and with his thumb, swiped a bit of whipped cream from her cheek. “I'll let you get back to your fun.”

He licked the whipped cream from his finger and waved as he let himself out of the house.

 

 

Viv hunched over the toilet, puking her guts out. “This is awful!”

Vicki helped her up, then pressed a cool washcloth into her hands. “Here. Come on. I made you some tea.”

“I hate it that I don't know my own body.”

“You know it,” Vicki said. “This is just a phase. The book I read . . .”

Viv glanced down at her sister. “You're reading books on pregnancy? Why?”

Viv regretted the question the moment it came out. Vicki's hurt look only made her regret it even more. “I didn't mean it like that,” she said, quickly apologizing.