Chapter Eleven
Ross glanced back when the bathroom door closed behind her and told himself two wrongs—falling in with the sisters’ scam—wouldn’t make a right. He didn’t lie, ever, least of all to his brother. He was so angry with Viv he wanted to shake her.
How the hell did she think such a ridiculous masquerade would ever work? Except it had worked for three days…and the only reason he’d caught on was not through his honed SAS instincts, but through his body’s reaction to her.
It seemed to delight in betraying him these days. “Shit!” He slammed the doorjamb with his open palm. “Shit, shit, shit.”
There was a gasp, so soft, Ross barely heard it. He looked up. Tilly, in pink flannelette pajamas imprinted with black cats, her current obsession, sat on the stairs, clearly shocked.
Shit. “Did you hear all that?”
The small throat swallowed, but she didn’t speak. Her eyes accused him.
Oh, hell. “You’re cold, honey,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get you into bed.”
She stood obediently, let him shepherd her upstairs. Her bedroom was to the left of the stairs, the walls covered with posters of kittens.
Awkwardly, he tucked her in. “You want to talk about this?”
She turned away and faced the wall. Tilly always got stoic when she was hurt. If Meredith or Charlie fussed over, say, a knee scrape or a bee sting, she’d get mad. She didn’t like to cry. Saw it as a weakness, Ross supposed.
“Honey, someone has to tell the truth.”
She stared at the wall, very small and still under the duvet. His heart felt like a pump, building pressure in his brain. Since the separation, both he and the twins’ brother, Dan, had worked damn hard to avoid fallout on their friendship. Now Viv had thrown a massive spanner in the works through this ridiculous charade. Ross had to take sides.
Until now, he’d believed that was Charlie’s side.
Viv was huddled on the couch when he came downstairs a couple minutes later, Salsa glaring at her from his basket. Glimpsing Ross through the banisters, the dog scampered over. Viv lifted a tearstained face, then shoved to a sitting position when she saw Ross and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box beside the couch. “I thought you’d gone.” She looked pathetic and sad and Ross didn’t care, he was so bitterly resentful.
“I was putting Tilly to bed. She heard everything.”
Her head shot up. “No!”
“I told her I wouldn’t tell Charlie.”
“Oh, Ross, thank you.” She started to smile but he scowled at her.
“As soon as Charlie’s over his initial grief and can deal with the truth, Meredith’s telling it.”
“But—”
“It’s not open to negotiation. Understood?”
She eyed him. Did the woman have no sense of self-preservation? “Understood?” he repeated.
Her lashes fell, screening her expression. “Understood.”
With that reassurance, Ross became all business. “How are you planning on identifying everyone at the funeral?”
“Merry’s briefed me, and Tilly and I have been going over photo albums.”
He frowned. “Funerals don’t have RSVPs. You can’t know everyone who’ll be there.”
“Then I’ll come over all teary…excuse myself.”
“You’ll have to use them sparingly or they’ll look like crocodile tears. Everyone knows Linda bullied Meredith.” He paced the living room. “I’ll stay close when I can—run defense with Coltrane relatives.”
She blinked. “So…are you helping me now?”
“What choice do I have? I’ve given Tilly my word.” He decided he hated Viv Jansen. “You’re putting my relationship with my brother at risk. I have to make sure you don’t blow it.”
“I’ve done okay so far,” she retorted. “I’m not going to fall apart halfway through.”
“Except I sprung you, remember?”
Viv sighed. “Fair point,” she conceded. “What gave me away?”
Something very close to a wet dream. “I’m SAS,” Ross said brusquely. “You can’t hide anything from us.”
“Then thank God Dan isn’t coming to the funeral.”
He hadn’t thought that far. “And your parents?”
“Mum’s still in Italy and Dad’s busy helping Dan with lambing. Obviously he and Dan offered—for Charlie’s sake—but Merry put them off.”
“At least you’ve got something right,” he said grudgingly. Actually she’d got a lot right over the past few days; he could only marvel at her ingenuity. But he wasn’t telling her that. Except… “Why the hell did you let me talk you into hosting the reception after the service? Your best strategy was a quick appearance and a quick getaway.”
Viv gave him an exasperated look. “You think? But if you recall you made it a condition of our truce.”
“Damn it. Well…we’re stuck with it now, so best thing to do is set up a schedule for the day.” He stopped because she was shaking her head. “What?”
“I don’t need another person trying to micromanage every detail.”
“Is that what Meredith’s doing?” He could imagine that; she’d done it with Charlie. Because whatever sob story she’d told Viv, his sister-in-law helped plow her domestic rut. She was one of those wives who complained her husband did nothing in the house, then made him feel incompetent when he did.
Ross remembered Charlie trying to cook dinner while Meredith cleaned up behind him like a super Hoover. She’d taken over walking the dog because Charlie wanted to wait until after the sports news. As a scheduler himself, Ross could appreciate her frustration. As a guy he thought: What’s an extra twenty minutes as long as the job gets done?
“I’m not talking micromanagement,” he clarified. “I’m talking risk management. Making sure you’re on top of all the things under your control so if the proverbial hits the fan, you’re better able to think on your feet.” He noticed she was nearly felling asleep on hers. “Minimizing close calls.”
“That would be helpful.” Unconsciously she hugged herself. “I have to admit I’ve been living the past forty-eight hours on tenterhooks, lurching from one crisis to another. I mean, take a look at the house.”
Ross started picking up the toys scattered across the floor. “Go to bed, Viv. We’ll go over things tomorrow. When’s the best time?”
Her brow wrinkled. “The only outside thing I’ve got on is running a coaching session for Tilly’s soccer team tomorrow after school.”
He tossed Garfield and some Matchbox cars into the toy basket. “You know soccer?”
“I’ll research the rules online. I figure I can learn enough for training.”
Ross resisted offering assistance. He had enough to do for Charlie and damned if he’d make this easy for her.
“Other than that,” she continued, “I’ll be looking after Harry, trying to walk that unfriendly dog… Oh, I also need to rent some extra tableware…clean the house and learn to conduct.”
He lifted a brow. “Electricity?” He’d have said she had that covered.
“And Tilly wants to make that cake…Nana Lin’s favorite.”
She hid a yawn and Ross frowned. Exhausted, she’d make more mistakes, maybe even a critical one.
Damn it. “Up until a couple of months ago I took Tilly’s team.” He’d dropped everything to intensify his training when he realized he wasn’t making the progress he’d expected. “I’ll meet you at the school, run the training session.”
Her face lit up and Ross marveled that he’d ever been fooled. Viv’s energy had always been completely different from her sister’s. She’d succeeded through a visual perception trick, like those pictures where you either saw the profile of a young woman in a hat or an old hag, depending on where your eye first focused. Cleverly, she’d focused them on Meredith, through clothes, through setting, through sheer bloody gall. Hiding in plain sight.
“I’ll phone you tomorrow,” he said. “Meanwhile I’ll keep Charlie away from you and your small accomplices as much as possible. It shouldn’t be hard, he’s run ragged finalizing the funeral arrangements in between work commitments.”
“Thank you, that would be a big help.”
“What the hell possessed you to tell Tilly, anyway?”
“She overheard me talking to her mother.” Wearily, Viv raked a hand through her hair. “But that’s sorted out now. I turn off my cell so I’m not caught in public by calls.”
The penny dropped. “That guy blowing air kisses was your French boyfriend, not Dr. Dick.”
“Dr. Luke,” she corrected. “Wait, how did you know Jean Paul was French?”
“Like I said, SAS.” She seemed too tired to move so he put a hand under her elbow and steered her toward the stairs. “Bed. Now.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to get closer,” she joked weakly. Brown eyes lifted to his—half apologetic, half defiant. And sexual awareness sparked between them, as it had sparked eight years ago. Dangerously alive with something too close to a connection. At the wedding he’d turned her down because of it.
Now she’d embroiled him in a situation entirely driven by moral and emotional dilemmas, his least favorite kind. If mishandled, this had the potential to alienate him from one of the few people he needed—his brother. Ross dropped his hand from her elbow.
“Let’s be clear, Viv. I don’t give a damn if your motives are as pure as spring water. You’ve created an unholy mess and I’m compromising my ethics to help you clean it up. When this is over the only Jansen I still want ties with is Dan.”
* * *
“And you’re sure Ross won’t tell Charlie,” said Merry. “Or our brother?”
“He gave me his word, so it’s all good.”
So why did it feel so bad? Viv sat at the computer nook in the kitchen. A cheerful midmorning sun streamed through the windows, and revealed every smear and scrap of food on the floorboards, except where a basket of dirty laundry cast a mountainous shadow.
The Himalayas, she thought, moving her half-eaten cereal into the shade before the milk soured. Me and a couple of trusty Sherpas, climbing Everest. It’s got to be easier than this.
The kids were at school and day care, and Viv had rushed home for a second Skype session on conducting. “Breathe when you want your choir to breathe and take an exaggerated breath on the beat before any new part is supposed to start. That’s in addition to the hand gestures.”
She was way too busy to be stressing about last night.
On the computer screen, Merry worried the edge of the sheet. “But how did Ross work it out?”
“Omniscient powers apparently.”
Merry’s brow puckered. “It must have been something you did.”
Hurt, frustration and fatigue boiled over like Tilly’s morning porridge. “Why? Because everything that goes wrong has to be my fault?”
“I didn’t say that,” Merry said wearily, and plumped up the pillows. “Only you need to find out what it was and fix it before the funeral.”
Her twin’s complexion was the same shade as the white pillowcase. Viv leaned forward. Merry’s eyes were fever-bright. “Why aren’t you looking better?” she said abruptly.
Merry smoothed down her covers. “I needed stronger antibiotics, they’ll kick in shortly.”
“I’m driving down there.”
“No!” Her sister looked up in alarm. “You’ve got too much to do. Our conducting practice…memorizing names and faces—now there’s the choir’s names, too, remember? Shopping for cake ingredients…and cleaning, too, if the rest of the house is as dirty as what I can see behind you.”
“None of that matters if you need me.”
“Viv, I need you there.”
“At least let me call Dan. He—”
“The kids know, the dog knows, Ross knows.” Merry threw up her hands. “Now you want to tell Dan? Soon the only person in ignorance will be Charlie. I’m on the mend, so can we get on with conducting practice, please? I’m scheduled for more tests in thirty minutes.”
“What kind of tests?”
“Nothing…more blood work. I’ll still be fine for a transfer in a couple of days. Now, ‘Abide with Me’ is four/four timing.” Her pale arms rose in graceful movement. “That’s down for beat one, over across the body for beat two, out for beat three and up for beat four.”
Halfway through their practice, Viv’s cell rang. “It’s Charlie,” she told Merry. “I should get this.” She trusted Ross to keep his promise but was still nervous as they exchanged pleasantries. “Did I confirm the choir?” Viv glanced at her sister who’d made the arrangements.
Merry nodded and held up her hands. Ten fingers, then another five.
“Fifteen are coming,” said Viv smoothly.
“Okay if I pick Harry up from day care?”
“Sure, you can pick Harry up from day care,” she repeated for Merry’s benefit. The sisters looked at each other. Or did he want to see Susan?
“And I’ll collect Tilly from school, too,” Charlie said. “I thought I’d take them for ice cream since I’ve seen so little of them…what with Mum and everything.”
“Didn’t Ross tell you? Tilly has soccer training after school. He’s offered to take it.”
“Of course,” he sounded weary. “Why didn’t I remember?”
“You have other things on your plate.”
“I’m writing the eulogy tonight. Any cute stories involving Mom and our kids come to mind?”
“I’ll think about it and phone you,” she promised.
“Thanks, Mere.” Charlie cleared his throat. “And thanks again for all you’re doing. I’m aware that it’s a big ask.”
“Just trying to do the right thing here.” To Viv’s horror, her voice wobbled. Ross’s condemnation had really knocked her confidence. Horrified, she shot a glance at Merry, but her sister lay back in bed with her eyes closed. “Gotta go,” she managed briskly. “Goodbye, Charlie.”
Merry opened her eyes. “You did tell me not to get my hopes up. He’s going to make up with Susan, isn’t he?”
“We don’t know that,” Viv replied. “Maybe it really is about spending time with Harry. He’s only seen him once since camp.” She blinked. “Is this really only my fifth day in New Zealand?”
“Which reminds me,” said Merry, “Jean Paul left a message overnight. He wasn’t happy with a text message instead of a phone call.”
Great, something else to feel guilty about. She’d contact him after this—no, the time zone was wrong. Viv suddenly felt swamped by the burden of other people’s expectations. “Listen, Charlie wants fun stories about Linda and the children for the eulogy. How about you phone him directly? If you call him at Linda’s home number tonight and use the hospital’s landline instead of my cell, it should be safe enough. Her phone doesn’t have call display.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“I do have them occasionally.”
“Don’t get prickly. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it, that’s all.”
“Because you’re the sensible one.” Old wounds, reflex reactions. She’d had therapy for this, damn it. “Forget it, I’m tired…you are, too.” She tried to smile. “So Linda actually had a couple of Kodak moments with the kids?”
“Believe it or not, she was a different person with them.”
“Is that why she was still getting playdates after your separation?”
Merry shrugged. “With Charlie living there, the children were going to see her anyway. And frankly, I needed a break sometimes…it’s hard being a single parent.”
“Tell me about it.”
Her sister gave her a strange little smile—tight, almost pained. “You know what’s funny about this situation? How many times did I beg you to swap places when we were kids? I was so hooked by those books, The Tricksy Twins— Tess and Terri. I always wanted to try your life but you never wanted to try mine…and now you’re stuck with it.”