Sleeping Alone (20 page)

“You did it, didn’t you?” Eddie charged. “You sold out.”

“What if I did?” Sally shot back, crumpling her napkin in her hand. “I don’t have anyone to take care of me, Eddie Gallagher. I’ve got to find a way to take care of myself.”

A silence fell across the diner as the men seemed to close ranks against Sally. Alex and Dee locked eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sally,” Dee said. “You did what you had to do.”

Which was something Alex understood all too well. She tried to console herself with the fact that she hadn’t exactly lied to John, but deep down she knew she was only fooling herself. What would he say if he knew she’d run out on Griffin? What would he say if he knew she not only wasn’t divorced, but that she also might be carrying her husband’s child?

Twice Dr. Schulman had scheduled Alex for a sonogram, and twice Alex had canceled the appointment.

“We need to pinpoint the date of conception,” the doctor had explained once again. “Given your irregular menstrual cycle, a sonogram is our best tool for determining your due date.”

Alex couldn’t argue with the woman—what the doctor said made perfect sense. Unfortunately there was more at stake than pinpointing the due date. What if she found out the baby was Griffin’s?

Lately she’d found herself dreaming about him almost every night. They weren’t exactly nightmares, but the dreams never failed to leave her uneasy.

The dream was always the same: Griffin showed up on her doorstep to claim his child. He was his usual cool and sophisticated self. He stepped inside her cottage as if he were stepping inside a landfill. His eyes took in every detail. The framed prints on the wall. The ceramic milk container in the shape of a cow. Disdain rolled off him in waves. She could feel herself shrinking, growing more insubstantial by the second. The only thing real about her was her belly.

She’d wake up in a cold sweat, hands shaking, heart pounding as if she was in the middle of an anxiety attack. It was only a dream. Dreams couldn’t hurt you. If Griffin hadn’t tracked her down by now, the odds were he never would. In every way that mattered, her marriage was over.

“They’re a tough crowd,” Dee said after the morning crew scattered. She poured herself a cup of coffee, then sat down at the counter. “They cut Sally off at the knees today.”

“I know,” Alex said, joining Dee at the counter. “Sally was crying when she left.”

Dee shook her head sadly. “When they close ranks on you, you’re done for.”

Alex looked at her. “You sound as though you’ve had personal experience.”

“In a way,” Dee said, “although in my case it was the father they cut off at the knees.” She met Alex’s eyes. “I suppose you’ve figured it out by now.”

“About Mark?”

“About Mark. John probably told you everything.”

“No,” said Alex. “Actually John hasn’t told me anything at all. But the family resemblance is hard to miss.”

“Oh, God, you don’t think that John and I—” She looked horrified. “It was Brian.”

“I know,” Alex said. “I saw the way Mark looked at him on Thanksgiving.”

Dee took a sip of coffee, then put the cup back down on the saucer. “Mark doesn’t know.”

“What?”

“Unless I remember wrong, pregnancy doesn’t affect a woman’s hearing. I said Mark doesn’t know that Brian is his father.”

“You must be kidding,” Alex said. “How could he not know? Mark practically has the name Gallagher stamped on his forehead.”

“One of life’s little ironies,” Dee said. “Mark thinks my ex is his father.”

“You don’t really think he believes that, do you?” Alex surprised herself with the blunt statement.

Dee hesitated a moment. “I want to.”

“But you don’t.” She couldn’t possibly.

“No,” Dee said. “I don’t. Tony tried to accept Mark as his own son, but he couldn’t do it. Don’t ever kid yourself, Alex. That whole blood thing is more important to them than we know. That’s why we divorced. I’ve spent the last thirteen years telling myself that the kid doesn’t need a father, but the older he gets, the more sure I am that I’m dead wrong. That’s why I’ve decided to talk to Brian. We made so damn many mistakes, Alex. I want to undo some of them while Mark is still young enough for it to make a difference.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mark needs to know who his father is. He loves Eddie and he respects John. I want my son to know that they’re his family.”

“And what about Brian?”

“Let’s just say I have low expectations.” Dee forced a smile. “You don’t know how lucky you are, Alex. Your child won’t have to wonder who his father is. He’ll know it’s John, right from the start.”

“Gallagher, you’re not listening to me.”

Brian looked up from his yellow legal pad. “You said something, Mary?” They were having a lunch meeting on the subject of Sea Gate.

“You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

“Sorry.” He pushed the pad to the other side of his blotter. “You were saying?”

She fixed him with the kind of look he associated with schoolteachers and other figures of authority. It was almost enough to make him laugh. “We need your okay to move on to phase two of the Sea Gate project. The storeowners on Ocean Avenue are hanging tougher than we’d expected.”

“So offer them more money. Everyone has a price. You’ll hit theirs sooner or later.”

“Not this time,” she said. “They’ve banded together to fight us.”

Son of a bitch,
he thought. They were a ballsy group, the people he grew up with. He couldn’t help admiring them for fighting the inevitable. And it was inevitable. They’d been able to close ranks against him when he was young but times had changed. Make no mistake about it, this was one fight he was going to win.

“There’s more, Gallagher. Your brother’s the one behind them.”

“Johnny?”

“You heard it here. I don’t know if he volunteered or was drafted, but he’s trying to figure out exactly who Eagle Management belongs to.”

“Let him,” Brian said. “I want him to find out.” There was a certain karmic symmetry to the situation that pleased him. John was setting himself up as a savior. Brian would take great pleasure in knocking him back down to earth.

“You don’t sound very upset.”

“I’m not,” Brian said. “Trust me, he’ll fuck up. He always does.” John couldn’t hang on to his wife or his kids or his career. There was no reason to believe he’d manage to hang on to his old hometown.

“They formed a committee,” she said, glancing down at her notes. “It’s called Save Sea Gate. Our contact says they’ll be taking it to the media once they get themselves rolling.”

“You expect me to worry about that, Mary?”

“Somebody has to,” she shot back. “We need an emergency meeting of our own. Maybe a conference call tonight to—”

“Listen,” he said, “I have another appointment. Why don’t we just schedule a strategy meeting for next week.”

“Next week?” She pushed back her chair and stood up. “It’s almost April, Gallagher. We were talking about a June start-up.”

“Schedule something for Tuesday, and I’ll be there.”

“Your partners aren’t going to be happy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mary. After tonight they’re going to be downright ecstatic.”

He’d been biding his time, waiting for the right moment to play his trump card, and that moment had finally arrived.

* * *

Alex got home a little after five o’clock. She’d have the house to herself for another two hours, and she intended to make the most of it. The one bad thing about living with John and Eddie was not having time for “girl” things like long soaks in the bathtub and walking around with mudpacks on her face and deep conditioner on her hair. She might even wax her legs while she was at it. Before too long her belly would be so big she wouldn’t be able to do things like that.

She unlocked the front door and stepped inside as a wave of fatigue washed over her. A nap wasn’t a bad idea, come to think of it. A real one, complete with a pillow under her head and a quilt pulled up under her chin. The idea was enough to—

“Good to see you again, Alexandra.” A tall, well-built man rose from the sofa. He wore a dark gray Armani suit, a Bijan tie, and an insincere smile. “I’m Brian Gallagher. We met at Dee Dee’s on Thanksgiving.”

She bit back a scream. “Oh, my God! Where on earth did you come from?”

“I used to live here,” he said, “although everyone tries to forget that.”

“I didn’t see your car in the driveway.” Her hands were shaking from the shock of finding him in the living room.

“The Porsche’s getting a tune-up,” he said. “I had my driver bring me down.”

“But I didn’t see—”

“I sent him off for dinner.” He looked at Alex curiously. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

She remained in the archway to the living room. Every instinct in her body told her to turn and run for cover.
Ridiculous,
she thought. John’s brother was no threat to her. Still the odd prickling sensation remained. “I didn’t know you had a key to the house.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“I—they’re doing some repairs on my house. Eddie—Eddie and John were kind enough—I’m staying here until the repairs are finished. I’ll probably be back home next week.”
Get a grip, Alex. You don’t owe him an explanation.
From what John had told her about his brother, Brian showed up in Sea Gate about as often as Halley’s Comet.
Be careful. He’s not here to socialize.

“So where is everybody?” Brian asked.

“Cape May,” she said, glancing at her watch. It was only five after five. “They’ll be home any minute,” she lied.

“What are they doing in Cape May?”

Didn’t the man read the newspaper? “The oil spill. They’ve gone down to help some friends.”

“Sounds like something they’d do.”

The look in his eyes chilled her to the bone.
He hates them,
she thought in amazement.
He hates everything John and Eddie stand for.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I have a few things to do.”

She started toward the kitchen. Brian followed her.

“You’re not being very cordial, Alexandra,” he said as she filled the whistling teakettle with tap water, then set it on the stove. “I drive all this way to talk to you, and you don’t even offer me a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not making coffee,” she said evenly. “I’m making tea.”

“In that case, I’ll take a Scotch, no rocks.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m off work. You’ll have to serve yourself.”

“You’re not making this easy.”

“Listen,” she said, turning to face him. “I’m tired and hungry, and the night isn’t half over yet. I don’t really know what you’re doing here but I know enough to be pretty sure you didn’t drive down to Sea Gate for a cup of coffee.”

“They’ve been talking about me, have they?” He almost seemed to enjoy the idea.

“No,” she said, taking a cup and saucer from the cupboard. “I figured it out for myself.”

He stepped farther into the room. “And what exactly did you figure out, Mrs. Whittaker?”

The cup and saucer crashed to the floor. A shard scratched her ankle, but the sting barely registered. “What did you say?”

“Mrs. Whittaker,” he repeated. “Been a while since anyone’s called you that, hasn’t it?”

She grabbed the counter for support as the kitchen seemed to whirl around her like an amusement park ride gone crazy. He crossed the room toward her. She wanted to move away, but the dizziness was overwhelming.

“Sit down,” he said, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table. “My wife had the same problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” she said as she took the seat. “I haven’t eaten, that’s all.”

“That’s not healthy, Mrs. Whittaker, is it?”

“All right,” she said, looking up at him. “I heard you the first time. You know who I am.”

He sat down opposite her. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Two or three miles,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding him. “A good stretch of the legs.”

“Your husband’s been looking for you,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “Funny thing. He never thought of looking for you in Sea Gate.”

“Is there a point to this, Brian?”

“From what I hear, you left London in a hurry.”

She said nothing. Her heart was thundering so hard she feared for the baby’s safety.

“Griffin has been worried about you.”

He looked to her for a response, but she refused to give him one.

“Does your husband know about the baby?”

The air rushed from her lungs, and she lowered her head. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

“Take a deep breath,” he said, unruffled. “My wife used to get dizzy when she was pregnant, too.”

He reached out to take her arm. She swung out at him wildly.
He knows,
she thought.
Oh, God, he knows
....

“You’re strong,” he said. “John must—”

“Don’t.” The note of fury in her voice was unmistakable. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“Protecting little brother,” he said, with a nasty edge in his voice. “He seems to inspire that in his women.”

“What do you want?” she demanded. “Why are you here?”

“Haven’t I made that clear?” His expression was as untroubled as a child’s. “Runaway wives usually don’t want to be found by their husbands.” His gaze lowered to her belly. “Especially pregnant wives. I have a very simple proposition for you, Alexandra: You help me get what I want, and I’ll keep your secret.”

“And if I don’t help you?”

He met her eyes. “I have your husband’s private phone number programmed in my cell phone. If he took the Concorde, he could probably be here in seven or eight hours. You can help me out or you can explain that belly to the man you married. It’s your choice, Mrs. Whittaker.”

* * *

Brian Gallagher was gone by the time John and Eddie returned from Cape May. They were filled with stories about the oil spill and the impact it was having on sea life, but all Alex did was nod.

“Are you okay?” John asked as he made the salad for supper. “You look pale.”

“I—I think I’m coming down with something,” she said. “I might not be able to go to the meeting tonight.”

“The meeting’s not important,” he said, placing his hand against her belly. “You and the baby are. Go lie down. I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

“You know, I don’t think I’m very hungry right now,” she said, edging toward the door. “Maybe I’ll take a nap, then fix myself some scrambled eggs later on.”

She hurried toward the bedroom before he could say another word.

Trapped,
she thought.
This is how it feels to be trapped
. Brian Gallagher had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. Whatever decision Alex made, John was the one who would be hurt the most. Nothing on earth could make her go back to Griffin. In a way, she longed for closure, to finally, officially, put an end to their marriage so she could love John the way he deserved to be loved. If it wasn’t for the baby, she would welcome the chance.

But the baby changed everything. Griffin was nobody’s fool—and he wanted a child of his own more than anything. He would never accept the fact that she was carrying another man’s child, not without medical proof.

Brian’s proposition was wickedly simple. Just as John had suspected, his brother was the brains behind Eagle Management, the company that was devouring Sea Gate. The only thing that stood between Eagle and the marina was Alex’s house. All she had to do was sell her house to the management company, and Brian would forget Griffin Whittaker existed.

“You’re asking too much,” she had said. “I need time to think.”

“Two weeks,” he’d said. “Either you sell the house to me by April 1, or your beloved husband gets a call.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked as he turned to leave.

“Because I can,” he said. “This fucking town turned away from me years ago. Now it’s my turn to even the score.”

She knew beyond doubt that he wanted to even the score with John most of all.

But not even Brian knew how well he was going to succeed. If she told John she might be pregnant with her husband’s child, she would break his heart. If she sold her home to Eagle Management, she would break his spirit.

The only thing left to do was to pray for a miracle.

* * *

The first meeting of the Save Sea Gate coalition went pretty well. John was heartened by the turnout, even if a percentage of the attendees came to learn how they could profit by the town’s troubles. But as long as the marina and the Winslow house remained solid, Eagle Management’s plans couldn’t move forward.

In fact, things seemed to be picking up at the marina. The long cold winter was over, and the sportfishermen had begun to come back. “Better service,” one of them said when John asked what had brought him to Sea Gate instead of one of the other trendier towns. “Don’t have to sit in the harbor for two hours, waiting to fuel up. You guys get us up and out fast.”

The coalition was scheduled to meet again on March 30. They’d invited a reporter from the
Star-Ledger
to join them in order to get an overview of what was happening in their forgotten Shore town. Maybe the media would be able to do the one thing John hadn’t managed: find out the identities of Eagle Management’s top people.

To his surprise, Alex remained strangely aloof from it all. He knew what her house meant to her and why. With the place at the center of the Eagle Management storm, he’d expected her to be more interested in the coalition’s plans to keep Eagle at bay.

“Maybe Sally and Rich are right,” she had said last night as they lay together in bed. “Maybe it’s better to take the money and run.” There was so much he could do with it, she pointed out. With the profit from the sale of the marina, he could go anywhere, do anything he wanted.