Riverbend (5 page)

Was she still asleep?
Please, God, let this still be my nightmare
, she prayed silently.

She trembled, the sweat-soaked pajamas cold on her skin. Her
hand twitched, as if in a move to hang up the phone, but he spoke again. “What? Cat got your tongue?” She continued her silence, frozen. “Listen, bitch, I know it's you. You're all over the Internet these days. All you have to do is put your whore name into Google and there's a dozen articles on you. You're looking good, especially compared to what a cow you used to be. I'm coming to town. Shouldn't be hard to find you. And then you'll pay for what you did to me.”

She dropped the phone like it was hot and stared at it. Then she picked it up and punched the hang-up button before tossing it back on the bed. She folded her knees, wrapping her arms around them and rocking back and forth for several minutes.
Oh no, no, no, no
, a roar in her head.

Chapter Four

DRAKE WEBBER'S HOUSE
was not visible from the mountain road but Annie easily found his paved driveway, enclosed behind a cast iron gate. Glancing at Alder in the backseat, she stifled the rising panic about Marco. After the phone call that morning, she'd decided to keep her son with her today, despite his protests that he wanted to stay with Ellen and go to the river.

“You all right?” she asked Alder, who stared dejectedly out the window.

“I don't know why I had to come,” he said. “This is going to be so boring.”

“You brought your game player thingie, right?”

“It's a DS, Mom.”

“Right. Whatever.”

“And I have my book too,” he said.

“My little reader.”

“Mom, that's so embarrassing when you talk like that.”

“Sorry.” She pulled up to the gate. She pushed the red button on the speaker and waited for the
Master of the House
(she'd deemed him such in her head) to answer, but instead there was only a buzz before the gate opened. The driveway was on a steep incline and her cheap compact car slowed like an old woman up a steep staircase. The woods became increasingly dense the farther they climbed.

“Jeez, Mom, my ears are popping.”

“I know, mine, too. How far up here does he live?”

Finally, after what felt like a quarter of an hour but was really only five minutes, she turned a corner and there was the house,
nestled between firs on either side. It wasn't a house, really. Not on the scale they were accustomed to in River Valley anyway. It was built in the rustic style of a ski chalet, with triangular beams over the entrance and small windows lining the front of the house. The back of the house faced the river view. There was a separate building to the right of the main house. Some kind of guest quarters, perhaps? She parked the car and took a deep breath, fighting the panic from earlier this morning. Surely there was no reason to worry about Marco showing up at her house today. Still, maybe she should have Tommy go by her house later and make sure he wasn't there waiting. But that would require a lot of explanation and she hadn't had time for that before they left for Drake Webber's house. As close as they were, none of her friends knew about Marco or the past she'd run from all those years ago. To explain it now would take some doing. There was a part of her that wondered, no matter how much they seemed to love her, if this information would be too much for them. Would they still want to be part of her life?

“Come on,” she said to Alder. “Don't want to keep the Master of the House waiting.”

“That's not very nice, Mom.”

“Wait until you meet him before you judge me.” She chuckled.

The front entrance was a double door with a heavy brass knocker. “Can I do it, Mom?”

“Sure, honey. Knock yourself out. Get it?”

Alder rolled his eyes as he made two quick raps with the knocker. “Seriously, Mom, you're so embarrassing.”

They waited for several seconds before Drake Webber appeared. He wore jeans and another one of those expensive looking T-shirts, which he filled out ever so nicely, despite his foul personality.
Pretty is as pretty does
, Ellen always said. It would behoove her to remember this, she told herself, and not be charmed by his good looks.

She peered at his face. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them. Was he a drinker? She tensed, thinking of it. Both the men she'd let into her heart had been drinkers; they were both mean drunks. But he didn't have the haggard appearance so many drinking men had, nor was his face bloated. No, this was something else.

“Miss Bell.” His eyes skirted to Alder and then back to her. “You're five minutes late.”

“I'm sorry.” Her stomach clenched. She glanced at her watch. It read two minutes past the hour. “I didn't think it would take so long to get up your driveway.”

“And I didn't expect you to bring a helper,” said Drake. “I think I mentioned that in the confidentiality agreement.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” Twice now she had to apologize to this man and she hadn't yet stepped inside his home. “It's just that I, well, something came up and I had to bring him today.”

“Is this going to be a habit? I'm not running a daycare here.”

She flushed, stealing a glance at Alder. His big brown eyes were wide and frightened. There was no reason to put up with this awful man. She didn't need this job. There was no amount worth being humiliated. She was a renowned chef deserving of respect. “You know what, Mr. Webber, I don't think this is going to work out. I told you I had a son and this is my only day off to spend with him, so, yes, there will be times he will be with me. And if you can't deal with that then you can kiss my ass.” She grabbed Alder's hand. “Come on, honey, let's go.”

“Mom, you said ass,” Alder whispered.

“Shush,” she whispered back.

“Wait.” Drake Webber's voice was loud, commanding. “Don't go.”

Feet from the car, they stopped, turning to look back at him. He was striding across the driveway towards them. “It's fine if he's here.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I just need your word, and his, that he isn't going to run all over town talking about me to his little friends.”

“No offense, sir, but why do you care?” asked Alder, his young voice soft and genuinely curious.

Drake's eyes sparked and flamed. “It's my business why.”

Alder shrugged, meeting his gaze with a proud lift of his chin. “All you have to do is ask politely. My mom and me, well, we're not the type to talk bad about people. She taught me never to do that, even if sometimes people deserve it.” Her little son straightened his shoulders, trying to appear more grown-up. “And you have to treat
my mother with respect, sir, or there's no way we're staying.” Despite his brave words, she knew he was afraid by the way his voice quavered.

Drake flinched, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. He looked at the ground and then back up at Alder. “I run things the way I want in my own home. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Alder's face was stony. “But you get my point.”

“I get your point,” said Drake Webber, his mouth set in a firm line and his eyes cold. “And I'll double your mother's pay as an act of good faith.”

Alder's mouth dropped open. He moved closer to Annie. “Mom, can we talk alone for a minute?”

Drake shook his head in a vigorous manner, appearing disgusted. “I'm not going to negotiate with a ten-year-old. Take it or leave it.”

Ten thousand dollars a month. That amount of money was almost unfathomable to her. What it could do for them over time was staggering. “I'll do it,” she said.

Alder's expression moved to resignation. As much attitude as he'd just displayed, he knew not to argue with his mother in front of a stranger, especially one like Drake Webber. “Mom, I'm going to wait out here for you.”

Annie hesitated. She didn't want him outside all day. “But it's so warm.”

Alder shrugged. “I'll sit in the shade. And I have something to read.” With that, he opened the car door, grabbed his book, and plopped under the large fir on the right side of the driveway.

“I'll cook quickly.” Regardless of either of their feelings about Drake Webber, the facts remained. They were safe here. And ten thousand dollars a month would ensure a future for Alder, no matter what happened to her.

“Come inside. I'll show you the kitchen,” said Drake, without expression.

Annie followed Drake Webber into the house.

The beauty of the front room hit her in a visceral way, making her forget for a moment the exchange they'd just had with Drake Webber. Pine paneling framed massive windows that looked out onto the deck and beyond to the yard. In front of a large moss rock fireplace were two tan couches and two red leather chairs, all arranged around a rectangular coffee table. Almost in juxtaposition to the rustic décor were two iron chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The floor was a dark hardwood, perhaps cherry, but Annie couldn't be sure. The same moss rock of the fireplace made a column next to the windows. There were art books and
Architectural Digest
magazines neatly stacked on several side tables, accented with pieces of pottery and intricate carvings.

Her gaze moved to what appeared to be the dining room. But was it a dining room or a library? On the south side of the big front room was a dining room, separated by large wooden beams. There was a long table, surrounded with a dozen chairs, and on the wall next to the table was floor-to-ceiling shelving. Every space was filled with books.

By the looks of this gigantic home, he did not seem like a man who would live as a hermit. For one thing, why did he have so many chairs around his dining room table if he didn't plan on having anyone visit him?

“Done gawking?”

“What? Yes. Sorry,” she mumbled.

Drake motioned to her. “Follow me. I'll show you the kitchen.”

The kitchen could not be described as anything but a chef's dream. It had a cook's island in the middle, two sinks, a double gas range, and two ovens. Four bar stools were lined up in front of a raised counter that looked into the kitchen. There was a table with eight chairs near three large windows that looked out on the south side of the deck.

She stood near the range, running her fingers over the glimmering stainless steel. Never in her life had she been in a kitchen as nice.

“It's wonderful,” she said.

“One of the finest architects in the country designed this house,” he said. “We had very specific wishes.”

“We?” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

He acted as if he hadn't heard her question but not before she saw the twinge of pain on his face.

“I'll leave you to it,” he said, turning to go.

“I just have to run out to the car to get the groceries. I have a cooler for the perishables, in case you were wondering.”

Drake Webber surprised her then by insisting he bring in the heavy cooler while she carried the two bags of other items. “I took the liberty of stocking up on all the items I'll need on a weekly basis,” she said when they were back in the kitchen.

“Good thinking,” he said, walking over to a closed door near the breakfast table. He opened the door and stepped aside. “You should have more than enough room in here.”

The pantry was as big as Alder's bedroom at home, with spaces of every size and shape, sliding drawers, pullout wire drawers, and a wine rack, all impeccably finished in the same red cabinetry of the kitchen. She pulled open a drawer and then let go. It immediately sprung back into place. Magnetic drawers—was there anything better? But every space was empty. She had an image, suddenly, of a tuft of tumbleweed blowing through a ghost town.

“How did your architect figure this out?” she asked. “It's perfect.”

“We had one of those closet places design it, along with every other closet in the house.”

Again,
we
. What happened to the
we
? “How many people am I cooking for?”

He stared at her for a moment, as if he hadn't understood the question. “One.”

“Oh, okay. I wasn't sure.”

“I'll go out and get the rest of the groceries,” he said. “You go ahead and start unpacking all this.”

“It's not necessary. For what you're paying me, I can certainly fetch the groceries.”

“No, I'll do it,” he said. “A tiny woman like you shouldn't be lugging heavy things around.”

Tell that to Tommy
, she thought, stifling a smile.