Cam propped a foot on the edge of the patio. “It happens all the time.”
She looked up at that, hearing more than a trite cliché in his tone. “It happened to you?” It was a personal question, but he’d opened the door himself.
“Call it the voice of experience.” He shrugged, stepping back to leave. “And if I had it to do over again, I’d react differently. I wouldn’t waste time in denial. You sound as if you’re ready to defend Ted, but he’s not showing the same sensitivity to you or your kids, so forget him and think about the kids and…just in case…take some common-sense precautions, that’s all I’m saying.”
He brushed grit from his hands. “And since I’m so full of advice today, I’ll just make this one other suggestion. Don’t waste time wondering what you did or didn’t do that made him cheat. That’s mostly a road to nowhere when you need to be concentrating on what you and the kids’ll do with the rest of your life.” He then stepped off the patio and walked away as abruptly as he’d appeared.
“Whoa,” Dinah said softly as soon as he was out of earshot. “And here we thought he was surly and insensitive and had a deep-seated grudge against you.”
“I still think that,” Rachel said, watching him make his way across the lawn, setting a fast clip to cover the distance between her mother’s property and his. “Yesterday, he could barely be civil to me and today he’s doling out advice, but not in a very loving way. He’s probably getting some kind of sick satisfaction knowing my life is falling apart.” She gave a push on the swing with one foot and settled back while it swayed gently. “Whatever his motives, I don’t need his advice.”
“I wouldn’t dismiss it so lightly, hon. To hear him tell it, he’s been there, done that. Besides, it can’t hurt to call Stephanie and simply run the situation by her, just to hear what she might suggest.”
Rachel looked at her mother. “Mom, for Ted to do what Cameron said would be a betrayal as bad as his cheating in the first place. Do you really think he would be so…so low-down?”
“I’m hardly unbiased, but I’ve seen some pretty sneaky things done when couples begin talking divorce. You—”
“We haven’t decided to divorce! Ted’s moving to the lake cabin, but it’s more like a separation. He’ll come to his senses, I’m sure of it. The consequences of an affair with Francine are just too dire. For one thing—if we’re talking assets—Ted’s whole financial life is tied up in the practice and the affair jeopardizes his position there. He had a taste of Walter’s reaction this morning, for heaven’s sake. He can’t think Walter will simply stand aside while Ted steals his wife and yet expects to continue to work alongside him every day, can he?”
“Betcha a dollar to doughnuts that he’s telling himself he’ll figure a way to get around that sticky issue.”
“I grant you his behavior is pretty disgusting,” Rachel said as she bent forward and picked up her wineglass, “but he won’t just dismiss eighteen years of marriage and our two children like one of his used suits. You’ll see.”
“Just promise me you’ll call Stephanie.”
That lowlife, Cam thought as he made his way back across the lawn. And stupid to boot, screwing around with his partner’s wife. Although he didn’t know Ted Forrester beyond a few casual encounters at the golf course, he’d seen him a couple of months ago at a restaurant in Dallas with a woman and it wasn’t Rachel. With no connection to Rachel other than the few minutes he’d spent in her office five years before, he’d thought nothing of it. But now…somehow after overhearing her talking to her mother and knowing the boy’s concern, he couldn’t quite manage the detachment it took to stay clear of sticky situations.
Back inside his house now, he went to the fridge for a beer. Unscrewing the cap, he headed back onto the porch and stood squinting through the afternoon sun at Dinah’s patio where both women still sat talking. Ever since Nick’s surprise visit this morning, he’d been trying to figure what in hell was behind the boy’s request. Well, now he knew. With his father shirking his responsibilities as keeper of the Forrester cave, the son felt obliged to assume the man-of-the-house role. Apparently that included helping his mom manage things on the home front and seeing to the welfare of his little sister and his grandmother…even if it meant forgoing his pride and seeking help from someone who was a virtual stranger. A daunting task for a fifteen-year-old.
His beer forgotten, he stared at the two women as thoughts of Jack and his own desolated family rushed back. He’d spent five years wishing he could turn back the clock, wishing especially that he wasn’t haunted by that last telephone call from Jack.
It had been late at night and he’d been in the throes of his usual deadline angst, trying to work through a book that was giving him problems. He’d rewritten the dialogue of the killer at least four times, trying to get it right. It was a crucial scene, one that would shed a glimmer of understanding about a man who had murdered half a dozen teenagers in the local lover’s lane of a small town in California. The crime had actually happened, and only God—or the devil—knew for certain what the killer said or thought as he prepared his young victims for sexual torture and death. Cam’s extensive research into the case had provided a lot of facts, but little psychological insight. If he’d pulled the story out of his imagination, he could invent whatever drove a monster to kill. But his genre was true crime, and his evaluation of the killer’s psyche had to be solid. After three bestsellers, nothing less for his next book would satisfy his fans or Cam himself.
In the back of his mind, he’d heard his phone ringing but ignored it. Everyone knew to leave him alone when he was working to a deadline. The book had to be on his editor’s desk in two weeks, and even working fourteen-hour days, he’d have to push to get it done. It was on the fifth ring that the answering machine picked up.
“Hi, Dad. It’s me.”
Jack. Cam dropped his head and groaned. It was the third time this week that his son had called, and Cam was still clueless over the reason for the calls. Lately when Jack phoned, he seemed to have something on his mind besides playing ball and the latest movie or rock group. When Cam tried probing deeper, all he got was evasion or Jack suddenly had to hang up.
Now Cam turned to look at the answering machine, silent except for Jack’s breathing. It could simply be that Jack wanted to see Cam, whether in a visit to New York or in Texas, where he lived with his mother. He hadn’t come out and said so, but that had to be it. He knew it was not possible. It was the middle of the school year. Besides, he knew Cam was on deadline. Jack understood these things. Or he used to understand these things.
“Dad, will you pick up?” There was urgency in his tone now. “I need to talk to you.”
Maybe it was Cara. Now that Jack was in the full throes of adolescence, maybe they were at odds over some things. Girls. Sex. Algebra. But, hell, it would kill Cara if Jack actually pushed to come and live with Cam in New York and leave her.
“I know you’re on deadline, Dad, but—” Jack’s voice caught on something that sounded like a sob.
Cam picked up. “Hey, Jack. What’s up, son?”
“Not too much.” Cam heard a sniff, then in a muffled tone, Jack said, “I guess you’re working, huh?”
Cam looked at the blinking cursor on his monitor. “I’m trying to wrap this one up, yeah, but maybe taking a break’s a good СКАЧАТЬ