Lover's Lane (22 page)

“Have you or your lawyer given a thought to Christopher’s welfare while Charles planned all of this, Anna? Let’s say that by some long shot, you succeed. It won’t matter that you’re his grandmother or how much money you have. You won’t be able to force him to love you.” Jake leaned against the wall, stared up at the ceiling, and tried not to think about what the threat of losing her son would do to Carly. “He’ll wind up hating you. Is that what you really want?”

Silence echoed over the line before Anna said, “I promised Charles.”

Screw Charles, Jake thought as he strangled his anger.

“Forget Charles. What do
you
want?”

“I want to keep my promise to him. I
have
to keep my word. I’m hanging up now, Jake. I believe we’ve nothing more to say.”

He couldn’t let her hang up, not knowing whether she’d ever take another call from him.

“Is this what Rick would want?”

For a second or two there was no answer. Then her voice broke. “Rick’s not here, is he? My son’s not here to say.”

Jake closed his eyes. Her determination reminded him again of his grandfather. It had been so important for Jackson to try to “salvage” him after his dad died. Jackson couldn’t stand the notion that he had failed to control his own son’s life, so he’d tried to meddle in Jake’s.

“If you cared about Christopher at all, you wouldn’t want to turn his whole world upside down. What you really want is Rick back.”

There was no answer, but he could hear her ragged breathing on the other end of the line.

“You can’t do this, Anna. It’s only going to bring heartache to everyone, and when it’s all said and done, you’re the one that’s going to be hurt the most. Why don’t I come by tomorrow? We can sit down and talk this over rationally.”

“My mind is made up,” she said, though she sounded less than certain. “Everything’s already in motion. I’d thank you not to bother me again.”

The line went dead and Jake put down the phone. The room smelled like cheap burritos. He wasn’t even hungry anymore. He hoped to God that Carly’s worst nightmare wasn’t about to become a reality.

He punched in Carly’s number, waited as he let it ring and ring, but she never picked up.

30

IT HAD BEEN LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS SINCE ALL hell broke loose in her life.

Somehow Carly had made it through the night by unplugging her phone and working in her studio. Sleep wasn’t an option.

It was nine in the morning. Chris was happily eating Fruit Loops on the living-room floor in front of the television watching “Shark Week Day One” on the Discovery Channel. Carly was still in her terry-cloth robe, barely finished with half-a-cup of coffee when the doorbell rang.

Jake.
It was her first thought, until she remembered that he’d gone back to Long Beach.

Mesmerized by the great white, Chris hadn’t budged. Tightening the sash on her robe, she opened the front door. A county sheriff was standing on the porch, hat in hand along with a legal-sized envelope.

“Ms. Carly Nolan? A.k.a. Caroline Graham?”

When she heard Caroline’s name, all she could do was nod.

He handed her the envelope. “You’ve been served.” Then he turned to walk away.

“Wait!”

“Ma’am?”

“What . . . what is this?”

“Could be any number of things. I’m just a disinterested party, ma’am.” He put his hat back on and walked down the steps toward the gleaming black-and-white patrol car parked beside Betty Ford.

Clutching the document, she glanced around to see if anyone was on the street. None of her neighbors was out and about yet, but she glimpsed movement behind Etta’s drapes.

Somehow she made it to the table before her legs gave out. She ripped open the envelope, scanned the documents. She was to appear at the Superior Court of Los Angeles County on June 29th at two o’clock.

Four weeks.

Four weeks.

Anna Saunders had filed a petition for guardianship of Christopher.

Anna Saunders knew where she was and knew her name was Carly Nolan.

She stared down at the pages. Jake hadn’t wasted any time.

Chris was still on the floor, watching a diver in a mesh suit protected by a steel cage as he tossed hunks of fish out to a school of frenzied sharks.

Carly easily related to the bait.

When the phone rang a few minutes later, her first impulse was to rip the cord out of the wall, but acting on autopilot, she answered it. If it was Jake . . .

If it was Jake, she honestly didn’t know what she was going to say or do. She was too numb to think.

“Carly?”

“Yes?”

“It’s me, Geoff. You never called back yesterday, and I mean to tell you, I’m miffed.”

“Geoff?” Thankfully it wasn’t Jake, but she still couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

“What’s wrong?”

She struggled to get the words past the lump in her throat. “Can you . . . can you come over?”

“I’ll be right there.”

She was still at the table twenty minutes later when Geoff gave a quick knock, opened the door, and strolled in with his arms full of grocery bags.

He called out a greeting to Chris as he breezed past Carly and on into the kitchen.

Chris waved, still stretched out on the floor with his head propped up on one hand. The diver on television was out of the cage and back on the deck of a boat trolling beach-ball-sized chunks of bloody chum.

Geoff started unpacking the bags, piling fresh veggies all over the countertop along with a carton of eggs, a pint of heavy cream, a half-gallon of fresh-squeezed orange juice, a bottle of champagne and two champagne glasses.

“First I cook, and then we talk.” He paused, crossed his arms and looked her up and down. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”

“I feel worse than that.”

He tipped his head. “I take it my little plan backfired. I figured I owed you one of my special veggie omelettes as an apology.”

She didn’t object or explain as he unerringly found a skillet and began to chop and sauté onions along with red and green bell peppers. While they simmered, he opened the bottle of champagne.

Carly cupped her chin in her hand, watching Geoff break half a dozen eggs into a bowl. He whisked them together before he added heavy cream.

It was easier to let him have his way than protest that she wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t really eaten since dinner with Jake on Friday night.

Geoff brought her a mimosa he’d made with champagne and orange juice.

“So . . .” He took the sautéed veggies out of the pan, left them in a bowl, and poured in the eggs. As the edges of the omelette started to set, he turned around, leaned against the kitchen counter, and folded his arms. “So, how are
you
doing?”

Her hand shook as she forced herself to take a sip of the mimosa. “I’ve been better.”

“God, Carly. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

Carly lowered her voice so that Chris wouldn’t hear. “Actually, Friday night was . . . unforgettable. Everything went according to plan. Dinner was a huge success.”

More than a success. His hands, his lips, the very way he spoke her name on every sigh had moved her to new heights. For as long as she lived, she would never, ever forget that night in his arms.

“And afterward?”

“I’ll never forget it. But it’s over.”

“I thought you two had something going.”

“We did. Until I got home yesterday and heard from Glenn Potter that Jake isn’t the owner of a consulting firm. He’s a private investigator.”

Geoff went back to the stove, lifted the edge of the omelette so that the creamy egg mixture would cook evenly.

“And that’s a bad thing?” he asked.

She took a deep breath, shuddered. “Jake didn’t come to Twilight just to buy a painting. He came specifically looking for me.”

Geoff paused with a spatula in the air and waved it like a wand. “Why?”

“He knew Chris’ father.”

“Ohmygod. There’s
way
more to this than meets the eye, isn’t there?”

She fought a sudden wash of tears and nodded.

“Just let me get this dished up, and then you can start at the very beginning.”

Twenty minutes later, Geoff’s omelette was gone. Carly’s was still on her plate, untouched. She’d given him the
Reader’s
Digest
version of her life right up until yesterday when she’d learned about Jake’s duplicity. There wasn’t the relief she’d experienced after telling Jake, but at least baring her past had been a little easier this time.

“This morning right before you called, a sheriff knocked at the door and asked if I was Carly Nolan, a.k.a. Caroline Graham, then he shoved an envelope at me and left.”

Geoff’s right brow slowly rose. He pulled the papers toward him and glanced over them with a look of pure disdain. “Let me guess . . .”

“Anna Saunders is petitioning the court for guardianship of Christopher.”

“Jake told her where to find you.”

“I don’t know how else she’d know.”

Trust me, Carly. All I’ve ever wanted is to help you and
Chris.

She closed her eyes. Tried to shake off the notion that Jake had betrayed her. There was nothing else to believe.

Geoff grabbed his empty plate and pushed away from the table. “What in the hell is the woman thinking? There’s no way she can prove you’re negligent or abusive. This is just a waste of time and money. It’s ridiculous.”

She clasped her hands in her lap, her fingers cold as ice. She stared out into the studio. “I should pack up Christopher and leave . . .”

“Running away isn’t the answer anymore, Carly. It won’t solve anything. You’ll just have to keep on running. It’s time you fought back.”

“But what if she wins?”

“How can you lose?”

“Geoff, I passed myself off as someone else for years. That’s against the law.”

“Did you commit fraud while using your friend’s name? No? Then it’s not like you ran up debts in her name or stole her credit cards and bank accounts.”

“Of course I didn’t do any such thing.”

“For heaven’s sake, you’re a great mother.” He slipped his plate into the soapy water in the sink then made a fist in the air. “Just bring the old bitch on. As soon as I get home, I’m calling you with the name of a good lawyer. He’s a friend of a friend of mine in San Luis Obispo. You’re calling him first thing in the morning.”

Tears began to slide down Carly’s cheeks. With a quick glance at Chris, she wiped her face on the sleeves of her terry robe, damning and missing Jake at the same time.

“All I’ve ever done is make one stupid decision after another, Geoff. I thought that somehow everything I was doing was for the best, but a lot of wrongs never add up to a right.”

“Running away again certainly isn’t going to help you now. Besides, you’re not fighting alone this time. You’re not a nineteen-year-old unwed mother, either. You’ve built a home here. You have friends who consider you family. Do you think any of us will let anyone take Christopher away from you?”

Family.

A dream that had died when she was a child, blossomed for a brief time in Borrego, but perished again with Rick on a treacherous mountain grade.

Geoff sat down across from her again and pointed to her plate.

“I’m not going anywhere until you’ve eaten half of that omelette. I know thin is in, but
you
can’t afford to lose any weight.” He glanced down at his watch, a slim rectangle on a black leather band. “I’ve got to open the gallery in forty minutes, so you eat up, missy. Don’t make me have to get butch about it.”

Carly found herself smiling through her fear. She picked up her fork, forced herself to take a bite.

Maybe he was right. Maybe this time, if she fought back, she’d finally be able to put the past behind her and stop looking over her shoulder.

Maybe from now on, things would be different.

Half an hour after Geoff left, Carly was in the shower rinsing her hair when Chris called out from the other side of the shower curtain.

“Mom! It’s Jake! He’s on the phone!”

She stuck her head and shoulders around the edge of the shower curtain, and there was Christopher, holding the portable phone toward her.

“Tell him I can’t talk.”

He held the phone to his ear. “She can’t talk right now. She’s all wet and she’s
naked
. Yeah. She’s in the shower.” He looked at Carly, the phone still pressed to his ear. “He says it’s important.”

“Tell him I don’t want to talk to him.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Water’s dripping all over the floor.”

Knowing Chris would stand there and give Jake a blow-by-blow description of everything she was doing, Carly shut off the water, grabbed a towel before she stepped out of the tub, and took the phone.

“Thanks, now go on.” When he flashed her a bright smile and gave her a thumbs-up, she waved Chris out of the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“Hello?”

“Carly, it’s Jake.”

At the sound of his voice she closed her eyes against an unexpected rush of longing. “What do you want?”

“I spoke to Anna Saunders late last night. She . . . she called in her own investigators after she talked with me, and there’s no other way to say this—she had me followed. She knows about you, Carly. She knows where you live, and she knows your name.”

“You’re way behind, Jake. She’s petitioned for guardianship of Christopher. A sheriff knocked on my door at nine this morning and handed me papers.”

She heard him mumble a curse.

“So, if you called to warn me, you’re a little too late. I do like the part about a detective following you around.” She sat down on the toilet seat cover and pulled the towel closer. Water was streaming down her back, dripping off her soaking-wet hair and onto the floor.

“Jake, I really don’t have time for this. Good- . . .”

“Carly, don’t hang up! Listen to me.”

“Look where that’s gotten me.”

“I’m not giving up. I’m going to talk to Anna again.”

“Oh, really? Have a nice chat.” She punched the talk button off and sat there staring at the phone while the puddle on the floor widened.