Keeping His Promise (Year of the Billionaire Part 3) (12 page)

"Thank God for that. I hope that you intend to give me 'credit' for the nights I didn't get to see you. By my count, you owe me at least four nights."

"I have a favor to ask you."

"Anything for you. You should know that by now. Are you ready for me to replace that godawful car of yours?"

"No, I want the key to your apartment."

"Isn't this a rather drastic turnaround? Just a couple weeks ago you were limiting me to a 'few' dates a week."

I laughed. "I'm not moving in. I just want to surprise you with something. Can you trust me with your keys for a day?"

"I sup
pose so . . . You aren't going to steal the silver are you?"

"No."

"Swipe my Cezanne?"

"No."

"Mangle my Monet?"

"No, I promise I won't touch your treasures."

"Oh please! My
treasures
adore your touch!"

"You know what I mean."

"Okay, when do you need the keys?"

"Tuesday. I have the day off. You need to stay at the office all day."

"Such mystery."

"I think you'll like what I have planned. Can you drop the keys off at the book store tomorrow? You do know where it is, don't you? Right across from Zabars."

"I know it, but I have to . . . I'll leave them with the doorman. He knows you."

I spent
Monday on line and on the telephone. One of the most amazing things about New York is that you can literally get anything you want delivered to your doorstep. It took every penny I had saved from my time at the Bookmark but I managed to pull together a respectable semblance of a traditional Christmas in Tristan's apartment.

I had a live tree,
of course. The ornaments were all old-fashioned German glass ones with lovely bright colors and lots of sparkle. I remembered his comment about the time his mother wrapped the presents in 'natural' materials and he didn't like the lack of shine. I went all out with shine. Live garlands adorned each window sill and I found some pretty brass lamps that looked like very realistic candlesticks for the windows. I hung two ornate stockings on the mantle and a beautiful wreath on the door. Gingerbread scented candles mingled their sweetness with the crisp piney greens.

I had several boxes--just little things--
wrapped up in gold and red that I arranged under the tree. I had fun in the toy store when I discovered the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were back and bigger than ever. It wasn't hard to find a set of genuine TMNT nunchucks and the latest versions of the action figures. I figured I couldn't buy him anything fancy so I went for fun instead.

I locked the door behind me, returned the keys to the doorman and was back at the Bookmark an hour before our closing time of six o'clock. Boyd was talking with his grandfather and a pretty girl I knew must be Phoebe when I arrived.

"This is my Phoebe," Boyd smiled. "The light of my life."

"I am so pleased to meet you, Phoebe. Boyd never stops talking about you." She had a heart-shaped face, big blue eyes and strawberry blond hair. I couldn't help but think she had to stand out in any Spanish crowd.

"Pleased to meet you, too, Raina. Boyd's been telling me about what you guys are doing for Grandpa Clemson. It's long overdue." She patted the old man on the hand. "You need to join the modern world, Grandpa."

I envied her the familiarity and the easy way
she fit herself right into Boyd's life. Even though I hit it off well enough with Bradley King, I couldn't imagine ever calling him 'Dad'.

"Let's close up and go have a drink, shall we?" asked Mr. Clemson. "It seems like ages since you've been around to indulge and old man, Phoebe."

We all turned our collars to the cold damp wind that had blown in that afternoon. We hadn't had any snow but Mr. Clemson remarked that it looked like a 'snowy sky'. I always hoped for a white Christmas. It added to the magic of the season. I took out my phone and checked the time. It wasn't even five thirty yet and Tristan probably wouldn't get home for another hour or more. I was impatient to know his reaction. I thought he'd be pleased, but there was a tiny niggling fear that perhaps I had somehow overstepped the limits. There had been so few opportunities for me to do anything for Tristan, it was always the other way around. Maybe he wouldn't like the sentimental gesture.
Oh well, too late
.

We swept into
Kilburn's propelled by the force of a sudden icy gust against our backs. It was half full but we found a nice warm booth toward the back, away from chilly blasts from the door. Mr. Clemson and I sat on one side and Boyd and Phoebe snuggled tight together on the other.

"So, what were you up to today?" Boyd asked me.

"I was planning a Christmas surprise for a friend."

"I went shopping," Phoebe put in. "Spain is wonderful, but there's nothing that can compare to Fifth Avenue at Christmas time. I'm so glad to be back. I've missed everyone so much."

"And we've missed you, my dear," Mr. Clemson smiled.

"I can't wai
t to see the rest of the family too. Boyd, what's your hunk of a cousin up to lately?"

"Making money hand over fist, I'd guess. We
haven't seen much of him lately," Boyd answered as he tipped back his drink.

"You know he always disappears at the end of the year. It's a very busy time for him. We haven
’t seen him at the Bookmark for . . . I don't know probably since before Raina started working there."

"You'd think," added Boyd, "that he'd stop to see you once in a while, Gramps. He lives right in the neighborhood."

I was suddenly listening to the banter a little harder and took a big gulp of my wine.

"
He's a strange young man. He was terribly interested in the shop after he returned from the Hills in September. But then he disappeared. I've had a hard time understanding him most of his life." Mr. Clemson shook his head.

"We had great times as kids. But after Aunt Maryann passed away, he and Uncle Brad hardly ever came to the East anymore."

"He takes after his father. It's very rare that I see any of my daughter's soft edges in our Tristan." He paused before asking Boyd, "Didn't he suggest you give me a hand upgrading our system and developing a website?"

"Sure, but it was long overdue."

Gulp.
Tristan
. Gulp. He had never once come into the shop when it was open and had spent only a few fleeting moments in my little apartment since I moved there. He'd listened to me talk about the job, about Boyd, his cousin and dear Mr. Clemson, his grandfather. And he had never said
a word
.

I was swimming in a flood of conflicting emotions. It was clear to me that Tristan had deceived me. He had engineered the job and
then he continued the deception by pretending he knew nothing about the Bookmark or the people in it. I was feeling a slow, angry burn inside but I was determined to stay in control and not over react. When my phone rang and I saw that it was Tristan, I let it go to voicemail, muted the ringer and stuffed the damn thing into my purse.

It was manipulative and controlling.
It was typically Tristan. And, even worse was the fact that he had used my father as a front for his little scheme. We had already stopped seeing one another when my father came forward with the 'friend of a friend' story. I had a fleeting moment of suspicion when I realized how close the bookshop was to the Dakota and another one when Mr. Clemson had told me about his grandson. But the job seemed perfect so I had pushed my doubts to the back of my mind. When I finally met Boyd Clemson, I was able to relax. The grandson behind the push for the new system was plausible.

Of course, it never occurred to me to question Mr. Clemson or Boyd about
other
grandsons. Grandsons of daughters with married names. And no one at the Bookmark had said a word about Tristan until Phoebe brought him up. That was strange to me. Once his name was out in the open, they didn't seem reluctant to talk about him at all. I wondered how that was possible. Surely he would have told them to keep his relationship with the shop a secret.

I finished my second glass of wine as the conversation turned to dinner plans. The threesome invited me, but I declined. "I have some things I really have to take care of tonight.
You guys go ahead." I gave Phoebe a little hug goodbye. "I'm so glad I got to meet you at last. I hope we can see more of one another."

The three of them headed down the block for a pizza joint that had some of the best calzone in the city. Boyd had brou
ght some into the Bookmark. We had shared them at work and I was hooked.

I thought o
ne more glass of wine might help lubricate my thought process and provide some liquid courage. My cell phone tallied three missed calls, all from Tristan. I resisted listening to the messages he left. There were texts, too. He never texted. He said it was a method of communication for kids. But there they were: "Where are you?", "Why aren't you answering me?", "I want to see you now!". In spite of my mood I had to smile at those. He didn't know the abbreviations--'u' for 'you' or 'c' for 'see'--every word was painfully spelled out.

I turned the phone over again and again in my hand as I contemplated what I was going to say to him. It wasn't the best idea in the world, but I ordered a fourth glass of wine as I watched the phone light up with yet another call.
Finally, I turned it off.

It was only a few blocks walk to the Dakota. Thinking the cold wind would clear my head, I started to walk toward his building. I wanted the walk to last longer than it did. Too soon I found myself staring up at the imposing old building. Once inside, I had the urge to flee.
Suck it up, Raina. Get it done
.

The doorman recognized me and gave me a little nod. He was a vigilant gatekeeper who kept the unwashed masses from buzzing the apartments of the luxury apartments of the wealthy and reclusive residents. I pressed the button for Tristan's apartment. He didn't ask who it was. He simply said, "Raina?"

"Yes, it's me."

The door to the inner sanctum sounded a jarring welcome as I let myself in. The elegant e
levator slid up noiselessly until I reached Tristan's floor. When the doors opened he was standing there, waiting. I hoped for anger so I'd have an excuse to pit my own against his. But he gathered me in his arms with a fierce protectiveness as a father might embrace an almost lost child.

"Oh God. Oh God," he murmured into my hair. "Jesus I was so worried." He rained kisses on my face clutching me and running his hands over me as if he was trying to reassure himself that I was real. I had been so keyed up with alcohol and anticipation that I hadn't noticed how cold I was. The lightweight coat I wore was no match for the bitter wind tunneling down the streets. I shivered.

Tristan pulled me into his apartment and took my coat. He wrapped me in an afghan and settled down with me on the couch. The room was just as I had left it; decorated and scented with the cinnamon of Christmas. I observed my handiwork as a stranger.

"What happened? Where were you? Why didn't you answer me?"

"I was out," I answered him as I groped for some way to begin.

"You didn't have your phone?"

"Yes, I had it." Tristan looked at me, waiting for more. "I was with Boyd and Phoebe." I paused too long.

"And my grandfather."

"Yes."

"I can explain."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't lie."

"Then what do you call it?"

"A sin of omission."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Don't play me for a fool. You lied. I asked you to butt out of my life--to leave me to make my way without your interference. You just couldn't stop controlling me, could you?"

"Will you listen to me? Please?"

I just stared at him. The cold was leaving my body, but it stayed in my eyes.

"You hadn't laid ou
t your stupid conditions when I . . . when I thought of Grandfather's shop. The whole situation was well under way when you put the brakes on.
Think
about it. It was the day your mother returned. I was about to tell you all about the Bookmark, about the perfect opportunity it was for you when you pulled that shit about how I couldn't give you what you wanted."

I thought. And he was right. The conversation about my employment was the catalyst for that awful separation. The
separation I couldn't manage to maintain.

"By the time I saw you again, you already had the job. I was too afraid that you'd bolt again if you knew I had a hand in it."

"But you let me believe I got that job on my own."

"You
did
get the job on your own. Grandfather didn't know anything about you. All I did was suggest he needed an upgrade and Boyd agreed with me. I set the stage, but when you went to the shop to talk to him you were just a girl looking for a job. A job that was a perfect match. I swear I didn't tell him to hire you."

"But you enlisted my father's help, too. And you never told me that."