The Other Woman Page 7

  “I don’t want you hating Dad because of me.”

  “I don’t hate him because of you. He’s earned my derision.”

  Liz couldn’t believe it wasn’t because of her. When they were growing up, it had been Isaac who’d tried to protect her. She knew a lot of what he felt had to do with how she’d been treated. “It’s in the past.”

  “He treats you like shit for years and years, and then one day he shows up out of the blue, and you’re ready to welcome him with open arms?”

  It’s in the past was easy to say, but not so easy to act upon. She was nervous, frightened, hopeful—and those were just the emotions she could identify. “I guess I’m willing to give him an audience, and see what he has to say.”

  “If you think he’s come to make you an apology, Liz, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. He won’t admit he did anything wrong. I’ve tried talking to him about it before. He says you and Luanna didn’t get along. As if the problem could be summed up so simply. As if he had no responsibility in the matter.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t as good a girl as I thought.”

  Isaac rolled his eyes. “No. I was there, too. You were sweet and innocent and…It wasn’t fair.”

  But Liz must have done something to make Luanna target her. Isaac was treated with a mild sort of neglect, but he was never berated. “Okay, say our stepmother was completely to blame and our father let me down—”

  “Which is true.”

  “I’m thirty-two years old.” She slipped into the desk in front of him. “I can’t hang onto the resentment forever. I have to let go.”

  “Can you?”

  That was the big question. Liz wasn’t sure. She hadn’t expected to be faced with this decision, not right now and not after so long. Her father hadn’t even cared enough to stay in contact with them. So why was he here?

  “What if he’s willing to be a better grandfather than he was a dad?” she asked instead of answering Isaac’s question. “It might be good for Mica and Christopher to know him.”

  Isaac’s long fingers tapped the top of his desk. “And what if Luanna takes him back after a week or two, and things revert to the way they were? How will you feel then?”

  Cheated. Betrayed. Like before.

  She wasn’t up for it, she realized. Not when she had so much going on in her life.

  She stood. “You’re right. It’s not a good time for me. Maybe in a couple years—”

  The door opened and a male student sauntered in. Liz knew many more would arrive in a matter of minutes.

  “Never mind,” she said. “You’ve got another class coming up. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Isaac followed her to the door. “You can tell him to leave you alone if you want to, Liz. Remember that.”

  “Right. I’ll remember,” she said.

  “Who, Mr. Russell?” the student asked.

  “No one you know,” he responded.

  The boy’s eyes lit up. “Is someone stalking your sister?”

  Liz noted the kid’s black hair, black pants, black T-shirt and black fingernail polish. A quick glance at the cover of his notebook revealed numerous drawings of skeletons, vampires and graveyards.

  “Nothing quite so dramatic, Devon,” Isaac said with a chuckle. “This is still Dundee, remember?”

  “How can I forget?” The boy slumped into a desk in the back row. “I’ll die if I don’t get back to Detroit soon. I’m tired of watching the grass grow.”

  “There’s always homework.”

  He slouched even lower. “Yeah, right.”

  Isaac flashed Liz a smile as he held the door for her. “Call me after he’s caught up with you, okay?”

  “How do you know he’s here to see me?” she asked as she stepped outside.

  “Because he knows enough not to try and contact me,” he replied and waved as a sea of arriving students surrounded him.

  “WHAT’S A CHOCOLATERIE?”

  Carter paused from painting long enough to look down at the unshaven but well-dressed man. Liz’s father, who’d identified himself as Gordon Russell, had his arms crossed over a lightweight V-necked sweater and stood gazing out the front window. He’d appeared almost as soon as Carter had returned from the hardware store. Since then, he’d asked several questions about Liz—where she was, how he could reach her, where she lived.

  Carter didn’t have any of that information. But he probably wouldn’t have shared it even if he did. His background occasionally made him too secretive, he knew, but he found it pretty strange that a father wouldn’t be more familiar with his own daughter.

  “Evidently, it’s a chocolate shop,” he said, focusing on his work.

  The man’s expensive Italian loafers made barely any sound as he wandered over and stood beside the ladder. “Why doesn’t she just call it that?”

  Carter reloaded the paint on his roller. He remembered what Liz had said about the movie, and he liked the idea. But Russell’s condescending attitude made him undeserving of an explanation. “I guess she doesn’t want to.”

  At the coolness of his response, Liz’s father propped his hands on his hips, splaying well-manicured fingers—one of which sported a large diamond. Either he had money or he liked to pretend he did. Carter was betting on the latter.

  “Who did you say you are?” Russell asked.

  “A friend of a friend,” Carter responded.

  “So you know Keith?”

  “Not really.”

  “In a town this size?”

  “I’m new.”

  Russell had to be nearing sixty, but the years had been kind to him. If not for the crow’s feet at his eyes and the subtle lines around his mouth, he could easily pass for ten, maybe fifteen years younger. He certainly took care of himself. Judging by his muscular physique, he worked out often. And he went to the added trouble of coloring his hair. It stuck up a bit as if he hadn’t showered after rolling out of bed this morning, but it was completely brown, without any hint of gray.

  “How well do you know Liz?” he asked.

  “Not very well,” Carter admitted.

  “You two aren’t dating, are you?”

  Russell said it as if he wouldn’t be pleased to see his daughter fall for a mere painter. Carter took exception to the implication but refused to reveal how much it bugged him. “No, we’re not dating.” He didn’t bother to explain that they’d had dinner together last night. One evening didn’t qualify.

  Liz’s father consulted the thin gold watch at his wrist.

  Carter sensed that his visitor was growing impatient, but Russell didn’t leave. He walked into the back rooms, poked around, used the restroom.

  “Maybe I should go back to the diner down the street,” he said when he returned. “The waitress who told me Liz would be here might be able to give me directions to her house.”

  “Probably,” Carter said. “But I don’t think your daughter went home.”

  “There’re only so many places she could be in this Podunk town.” With one foot, he tapped the wrapper of Carter’s new roller. “To be honest, I don’t know how you stand it.”

  “It has its benefits,” Carter said.

  Russell didn’t appear to be convinced. “Really?”

  “Sure. Depends on what you’re looking for, right?”

  “What are you looking for?”

  Carter needed the space. He’d lost the idealism that had once characterized him so strongly—the belief that good would eventually prevail. Because of that, he didn’t have the patience he’d once possessed, the kindness, the diplomacy or the understanding. Hell, he didn’t even have the desire to be close to anyone.

  Charles Hooper, who was now spending the rest of his life in prison, had seen to that.

  “A crab feed on the front page of the newspaper,” he mumbled.

  “Did you say crab feed?” The deep grooves in Russell’s forehead revealed his confusion at such an answer, but he didn’t have time to question Carter further. The door swung open and L
iz walked in.

  “Sorry that took so—”

  Her words trailed off as soon as she saw her father.

  “Surprise!” Crossing over to her, Russell swept her into his arms.

  Liz didn’t push away, but neither did she respond to the embrace. She tolerated it—at least that was Carter’s interpretation.

  “Keith told me he saw you in town,” she said, her voice breathless and wispy.

  “Can you believe it?” Russell’s response was a little too loud to sound completely natural. “Me, all the way out here? I’m already going nuts without a Starbucks on one corner and a golf course on the other. What made you move to the boonies?”

  He acted as if Liz’s relocation was something that had just happened. But Carter was fairly certain she’d been living in Dundee for over a year. Maybe two.

  “I like it here,” she said simply.

  She didn’t mention what Keith had done to her—that she’d only come because of her children. Anyone even remotely connected to her knew about that scandal. So how was it her father didn’t?

  “To each his own, I guess.” He waved toward Carter. “Your painter wants a crab feed on the front page of the paper. He doesn’t ask for much, eh?”

  Liz offered Carter a quick, apologetic smile. “He’s not my painter.”

  “No?”

  “He works for Senator Holbrook. He’s just helping me out.”

  “There’s a senator in the area?” Russell said. Obviously that was the part that impressed him most.

  “A state senator,” Liz clarified. “He’s Isaac’s father-in-law.”

  At the mention of Isaac, there was a strained silence, but Russell’s pleasant expression remained stubbornly in place. “Isaac married, huh?”

  “Yes. A year ago.”

  “Good for him. Sounds like it’s about time I came out. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  Liz clutched her purse to her side. She hadn’t taken a single step from where she’d been when her father had hugged her. “Where are you staying?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “Is there a motel around here?”

  Liz’s father must’ve passed the Timberline on his way through town. Carter guessed he was hinting—hoping Liz would put him up.

  “There is,” she said. “But…”

  “The Timberline’s only sixty-five bucks a night,” Carter volunteered.

  Russell blinked at him, but Liz made the offer anyway. “I guess you could stay with me. For a few days,” she added quickly.

  Carter shook his head. He couldn’t protect people from themselves. He’d learned that the hard way.

  “A few days ought to be enough,” Gordon said. “I’m just here to meet those kids of yours.”

  Had this guy been out of the country? Carter wondered. Liz’s children had to be six and nine, at least. Maybe older.

  “Right,” she said, but she seemed more confused than anything, and immediately launched into a series of questions. “So you’re retired now? You’ve sold your law practice or…or closed it down?”

  “I sold out to my two partners, coupla years ago. Got a good price, too. It’s nothing but traveling and golf for me. A whole new life.”

  “And Luanna?” Liz asked.

  A shadow fell over Russell’s face. Carter told himself to keep painting, that the scene unfolding beside him was none of his business. But he hadn’t felt so much tension crackling in the air since he’d arrived in Dundee. He slowed his paint strokes so he could hear clearly over the spin of his roller.

  “We split up.”

  “Does that mean it’s over? For good?”

  “That’s right. She’s too difficult to live with.” He grinned conspiratorially. “You of all people should know that.”

  Liz didn’t answer, but Carter got the impression she had plenty to say.

  Her father clapped his hands, obviously eager to put the subject behind them. “So what should I do with my bags?”

  Liz looked at Carter. When he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, he couldn’t help getting involved again.

  “You might prefer to stay at the Running Y,” he said. “It’s a nice resort. They have eighteen holes out there. Hunting. Fishing. Horseback riding. Scenery’s beautiful.”

  Liz turned expectantly to her father. But he shook his head. “That’s okay. No need to waste good money when I’ve got family in town, eh?”

  The knuckles of Liz’s fingers grew white on her purse. “Right,” she said. “Well…in that case, why don’t you follow me over to the house?”

  “Sounds good. Nice meeting you,” he added, but Carter could tell he didn’t mean a word of it.

  “Same here,” Carter replied, equally insincere.

  Liz’s polite smile disappeared as soon as her father moved ahead and could no longer see her face. Her chest lifted, as if she was attempting to summon more strength, then she began to follow him. But as the door swung shut behind Russell, Carter reached over and managed to catch a piece of her sweatshirt.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  He thought she’d tell him to mind his own business. She definitely had reason to. But she didn’t. “I have absolutely no idea,” she murmured, shaking her head.

  “Maybe you should rethink this one.”

  “How can I?” she said. “He’s my father.”

  Carter frowned as he watched her go, wishing she’d let him take control of the situation. But then he cursed himself. Why did he care? Maybe blocking his emotions made him more of a robot than a man, but at least he could still function.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he returned to his work. Mr. Russell’s appearance wasn’t a life-or-death situation, certainly nothing like what Carter had faced in the past. He had no moral responsibility in this, and he could safely go on with his day as if the situation didn’t exist.

  But Russell’s arrival seemed pretty catastrophic to Liz.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LIZ WALKED STIFFLY through the four-bedroom house she rented on a month-to-month basis. When she first moved from the Holbrooks’ neighborhood, she’d considered purchasing. But buying a house had felt far too permanent. She was staying in Dundee for her children’s sake, but she was comforted by the knowledge that she could escape with relative ease if she wanted to. Maybe that was what made Dave’s calls so titillating. There was always the possibility she could pick up and go. That was true, even with the store, since she’d signed only a six-month lease.

  Of course, she’d lose her initial investment, which was significant. But that was another story. She had an out, if she needed one.

  “So…how long have you been living here?” her father asked.

  Liz cringed at the subtle emphasis he placed on the final word. Her father had always cared so much about appearances. Seeing the old ranch house through his eyes embarrassed her, made her wish she’d been more successful in life. She’d had a nice home in L.A. She’d had a happy marriage, or so she’d thought; elegant clothes and jewelry, an expensive car, even a club membership that enabled her to play tennis three or four days a week. Her father would have been impressed.

  But he hadn’t bothered to come around then. He’d waited until she’d been stripped of almost everything, even her pride. “About six months.”

  “Do you own or…”

  “I rent.” She opened the linen closet in the hallway and grabbed a fresh batch of sheets. Although the house had four bedrooms, only three were furnished, so she’d have to put Christopher on the couch and give her father his room.

  “Where does Isaac live?” he asked.

  “On the other side of town, a little farther out. He and Reenie own a small farm.”

  “They have animals?”

  “A couple of horses, a pig that Jennifer’s raising—”

  “I thought his wife’s name was Reenie.”

  “Jennifer’s one of Isaac’s stepdaughters.”

  “How many does he have?”

 
“Three. Jennifer’s eleven, Angela’s nine and Isabella’s seven.”

  “Any children of his own?”

  “Not yet.”

  Her father acted as if he had more to say, but the pictures on the wall caught his attention. He stopped, and Liz turned to see him staring at a photograph of her mother.

  “Where’d you get this?” he asked.

  Luanna hadn’t allowed any sign of Chloe Russell in her house. On the night Liz had run away, she’d gone to the attic to find this photograph in the boxes containing her mother’s belongings. “I took it when I moved out.”

  She wondered if that admission would bring up the past, if her father would finally ask her why she’d left. But he didn’t. He pulled his gaze away from Chloe’s pretty face and smiled expectantly, as if he was ready to see his room.

  Didn’t he get it? Liz wondered. Didn’t he realize they’d lost far more than a wonderful wife and mother? More than they’d needed to lose?

  If he understood, he gave no indication. “I’ve got to get back to the store and help with the painting,” she said, sliding some of Chris’s LEGO creations out of the way so her father could wheel his luggage into the room. “And I’ve got to go by the police station on my way.”

  “What do you have to do at the police station?”

  “File a report. Someone tore the sink out of a wall at the store.”

  “I saw that.”

  “It was probably a random one-time occurrence and nothing I can do much about. But I figure I should report it, just in case.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Why not grab a nap here while I’m gone or—” she wasn’t sure what he’d do, why he’d even come “—or take a look around town, if you’re up to it.”

  “Where are the kids?”

  “They don’t get out of school until three.”

  “And Isaac?”

  Liz had started changing the bedding. Hesitating, she glanced at her father. The way he’d said her brother’s name made her wonder if Isaac was the real goal.

  Or was that jealousy talking?

  She was tempted to tell him Isaac didn’t even want to see him. But loyalty to her brother wouldn’t allow it. She could see why Gordon loved Isaac. Everyone loved Isaac. Especially Liz. “He teaches science at the high school.”