Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Not Mexico

 

 

 

 

 

Riding shotgun in the new Range Rover I’m going to have to return as soon as the lease expires because it’s way too expensive, I tabulate funds on my cellphone calculator. Adding in Lincoln’s nest egg, the money in Jack and my savings account, and the cash from the stuffy pawn shop, I hit the Equal button and release the breath I’ve been holding.

“Well?” Lincoln asks, glancing over at me from the driver’s seat.

“Forty-eight thousand, six hundred and sixty-seven dollars.” I look up to find his awaiting eyes. “Plus, I have a hundred-dollar gift card to The Cheesecake Factory.”

A short laugh escapes him. “Well, that’ll cover one of our meals.”

“We’ll be fine,” I say, stuffing my phone in my purse. “Realistically, how much will the food truck cost to get off the ground?”

Lincoln slows for a red light. “On the low end, about fifty.”

“Thousand?” My mood nosedives with the speedometer needle. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a solid plan to get us started at twenty-five to thirty-grand. We’ll have to buy used and do some of the work on the truck ourselves but we can handle it.”

I run a hand up and down his thigh. “Tell me where we’ll set up shop.”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“At least tell me it’s someplace warm.”

His cocky grin gives zero hints. The light changes to green and he gets into the gas, sucking me into the seat. Excited jitters course through my bloodstream, feeding the ants in my pants. We’re leaving town together and this is really happening. I even packed my coffee maker because I’m not coming back and I love that coffee maker. Watching the town blaze past in a sunlit blur, part of me wonders if I’m being reckless. But a bigger part doesn’t care. We’re both committed and it’s too late to turn back now. Nothing can stop this road trip. My phone rings and I cringe. Digging it from my purse, I curse this horrid timing. The last thing I want right now is a phone call! I wish it was 1989 and there were no such things as cellphones so nobody could reach us inside a moving vehicle.

“Who is it?” Lincoln asks, passing a noisy pickup.

“My real estate agent,” I reply, hitting the Answer button. “Hi Wendy.”

“Hey Sienna, I’m sorry to call with bad news like this.”

“Bad news?” I trade a worried look with Lincoln and put it on speakerphone. “What’s wrong?”

Wendy sighs into the line before getting right to it. “I’m afraid you’re upside down on the house.”

Lincoln and I frown at each other for a baffled moment before I find my voice. “What? How can that be? We put eighty thousand down and have been making steady payments for over three years now. Not to mention the value has gone up in the neighborhood.”

“I realize that,” Wendy thankfully admits, “but I’m assuming you didn’t know that Jack took out a second mortgage last fall.”

“Jesus,” Lincoln groans, turning back to the road and setting his jaw.

“Second mortgage?” It’s all I can say because I’m completely flabbergasted. Although, I don’t know why I’m surprised by anything Jack did after catching him and his little blond-haired friend making a mess of our thousand count bedsheets. Holding the phone out in front of me, I stare at the screen. “Why would he do that?”

“Technically, I’m not privy to that information.”

My eyebrows draw together. “But…”

“But…I know a guy at the bank and, after bribing him with a date this Saturday night, he told me that Jack recently fell short on a couple of risky investments. Do you know anything about high yield bonds?”

“No.”

“Me neither, but I can tell you they didn’t pay off and Jack found himself in a spot of financial trouble.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe into the phone. This couldn’t be happening at a worse time. “So…what does this mean?”

“Well, it means we try to get as much as we can for the house.” Wendy pauses for an unnerving moment because I know more is coming and I won’t like it. I can tell by the downturn in her voice. Usually, she’s so upbeat and optimistic. Now, she sounds tired and glum. “Or,” she says, “we let it fall into foreclosure and it goes to the bank.”

Hanging my head, I hide behind a hand. I don’t know if I should be sad or pissed so I settle for both. “That fucking asshole,” I say, wincing as soon as the words slip from my mouth. Wendy doesn’t know the whole story about Jack and it must’ve sounded really callous calling my deceased husband a fucking asshole, but screw it. If the shoe fits… “Let’s see what we can get for it, okay?”

“I think that’s the right course of action,” Wendy agrees. “The market is very hot right now and we just might break even. I’ll email you the particulars and then schedule an open house for this Sunday. Is that okay?”

I clench my teeth. For all I know, we’ll be a thousand miles from here by this Sunday. Doesn’t matter, I remind myself. I already gave Wendy a key and if she needs any help, I’ll put her in contact with Mary, who has another key. “Yes, that’s fine,” I reply, thanking her for everything, including her date with the banker this Saturday night.

“Well, there goes the neighborhood,” Lincoln murmurs, turning onto a quiet street.

Tossing the cellphone back in my purse, I’m fuming so hard I don’t even notice where we are. I’m seeing red. “That sonofabitch! Even in death, he still finds a way to screw me over.”

“Hey, don’t let it get to you. There’s nothing we can do about it now and you still have the life insurance settlement coming.”

“Pffft,” I spray all over the dash, dismissing the thought of ever seeing a penny of that seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. “The way things are going, I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“They will pay out. They have no reason not to.”

“As far as we know, but let’s be honest, if there’s even the slightest chance that…” My words turn to dust as we pull down a street I definitely recognize. A cold shiver worms through me, settling in the pit of my stomach. “What’re you doing?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

“The last thing in the world I want to.”

“Lincoln, I’m not ready for this.” Looking down at my clothing, I gasp in horror. “I’m wearing athleisure wear!”

He pulls around the circular drive of a huge house with a Spanish roof. Putting the SUV in park near the front doors, he eyes me over. “You look beautiful.”

“Lincoln,” I pant. “We can still leave if you put it in drive and go right now. It’s not too late.”

“It is too late,” he replies, jerking his chin to a big bay window.

When I turn to the house, I see Minni move off to the side. The curtain slips back into place and, suddenly, I feel as if I’m about to give an unprepared speech to a boardroom full of important people. My palms begin to sweat and this is a terrible idea. I mean, what’s the point? They’ll either try to stop us from leaving or make me feel worse than I already do. “This is a no-win situation,” I think aloud, tightening my ponytail.

“You don’t know that,” he says, opening the car door. “The two of us can make this right. They love you and I can’t leave things like they are. It’s too weird now.” He grins at me. “But mainly, I want my car back,” he adds, getting out.

“Lincoln!” Groaning, I drag myself from the Range Rover and up the front steps. Lincoln bangs a big round knocker with a lion’s head against the arched double door.

“What’re you doing?” I whisper, twisting the bare spot where my wedding ring used to be.

“They took my key too.”

Closing my eyes, I exhale a sullen breath and debate running for some nearby bushes. I still have time to hide. It’s not too late. The property is partially wooded and the door cracks open, driving a stake through my plan.

Minni looks us over with those cold, steel eyes and she’s so still, she reminds me of a wax figure at Madame Tussauds. I’m not sure if she’s real or not. Then she turns her back on us and clicks a pair of teal high heels down the hallway. Rolling his eyes at me, Lincoln takes my hand and tows me inside.

Minni’s style is very different than mine – than anyone I know for that matter. Ornate fabrics and furniture adorn the many rooms, and the more the merrier. I don’t know how Tom puts up with all the golds and reds without feeling like Liberace. He’s the one who taught all those classes and penned all those history books over the years, and she’s the one who gets to pick out whatever gaudy decorations she chooses? I guess what they say is true: happy wife, happy life.

“Thom-mas,” Minni cries out like she’s in some state fair husband calling contest. Coming to a stop in the music room, she takes a seat on the red Victorian couch they seldom use. My stomach drops. I always feel on edge in this room, like I can’t touch anything or I’ll break it, and I think she knows that.

Tom waltzes into the room with tweezers in one hand and bifocals perched upon the tip of his pointy nose. He’s obviously been working on another ship in a bottle and I love him for it. He’s a fun man with a big heart and, despite his temper, I just might miss him the most. Tom stops when he sees us, jaw coming unhinged. “Oh, hello. I wasn’t aware we were having company.”

“Nor was I,” Minni adds, crossing her legs and picking a piece of lint from her lavender colored slacks. “Well, are you going to sit down or just stand there all day?”

Tom, Lincoln, and I look at each other, unclear who she’s talking to. Then we all hurriedly take a seat like the record just stopped on a rousing game of musical chairs. Lincoln and I perch upon the edge of a matching love seat, ready to make a break for it if our hand is forced. Clearing his throat, Lincoln stares at Minni and Tom sitting across from us on the blood red couch.

“Listen, I know you don’t want to see us right now,” he says, pausing when Minni makes a noise under her breath. “But we wanted to stop by and let you know that…we’re leaving town. Today.”

“Together?” Tom asks, staring at us over his glasses.

“Yeah, Pops, together,” Lincoln replies, pumping my hand in his.

Minni speaks out the corner of her mouth. “Thomas get your gun.”

I let my gaze drift to the grand piano in the corner of the room, avoiding their eyes for as long as possible. We shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t my idea.

“But I wanted to clear the air before we left,” Lincoln says, shifting on the loveseat.

“Left to go where?” Minni asks with a casual air, acting unconcerned because she’s already written Lincoln off for the rest of his miserable life. Her rage hasn’t faded one iota since catching him stroll from my upstairs shower.

“To launch a new food truck; somewhere permit friendly.”

“Oh, come on, Lincoln,” Minni laughs, trading a sardonic look with her husband. “That old pipe dream? Well, let me tell you something, young man, those food trucks are a daily grind. There isn’t a get rich option. I did some research at the library and I don’t think you have the stomach for it. You’ve never worked hard at anything a day in your life.”

“That’s not true.”

“You couldn’t even finish college,” she spits back, hitting him where it hurts and spiking my anger. I’ve heard her make that cheap jab before, especially after a few glasses of Christmas chardonnay or Easter mimosas, and it didn’t sit well with me back then. To Minni, culinary school is the equivalent to community college and that just goes to show what she knows.

“Look, I didn’t come here to argue,” Lincoln says in that calm voice I don’t know how he maintains. “I’m a grown man and will do what I choose.”

“Yeah, until you need money. Then it’s a different story, isn’t it?”

“Minni,” Tom says in a warning tone, removing his glasses and setting them next to a crystal lamp on the end table.

“You know it’s true, Thomas,” she fires back, waving a hand through the air like a magic wand. “He thinks we’re a magic money tree he can come prune whenever the desire strikes.” Her angry eyes shift to me, compressing the fluid in my spinal cord. “Well, those days are over.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I don’t need anything from you. Like I said, I didn’t come to argue. I came out of respect for both of you.”

“And that’s a very admirable notion indeed, son.” Tom loosens the lavender necktie tucked beneath a heather gray V-neck sweater. “I’m just wondering how Sienna fits into all of this. I mean, we’re talking about a very different lifestyle change here.”

Oh shit. My pulse skyrockets because that’s my cue and now the spotlight is on me. Everyone is staring, waiting for my reply and I don’t know what to say to convince them of anything. This was a horrible mistake and I’ll only make things worse because that’s what I do best. Filling my lungs with notes of lilacs and coffee, I look Minni square in the eye. “When Jack hit me the first time, I called Lincoln to come patch things up.”

I pause to let a thunderstruck silence flood the room on a soundless wave. What little color was left in Minni’s painted on cheeks runs into her shoes like a toddler who just pissed herself after stepping on a worm. I feel horrible for spilling the beans and never intended to do so. It just came out and I cannot, for the life of me, look at Tom. He loved Jack so much and had no idea who his eldest son really was.

Until now.

I tip my chin down and step on the gas. “I never wanted to tell you that but I will not sit here and watch you lose two sons. Lincoln is a good man and the only person I could ever talk to about anything. He is innocent and he is my hero.”

Setting her jaw, Minni speaks through her teeth in a heated growl. “Why, you little…”

“Minni!” Tom shouts, returning the room to a stunned silence that rings hollow in my ears. Sitting up straighter on the couch, he squeezes his wife’s knee and lowers his voice. “Let the girl speak.”

I keep my eyes locked on Minni and go in for the kill. “When Jack came home drunk and hit me the second time, it was Lincoln to the rescue again, correcting Jack and begging me to leave him.”

“I will not sit here and tolerate another word of this,” Minni protests, rising from the couch. “It’s blasphemous!”

Grabbing her wrist, Tom yanks her back down, getting red in the face. “Sit your ass down and shut your mouth.”

Fighting against the rage in Minni’s eyes, I march onward, bravely absorbing her pointed glare. “Your son has been there for me more than anyone I’ve known my entire life, including my own family.” Minni opens her mouth but I stop her with a hand. “There was never anything going on between us prior to Jack’s death. Ever. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Crossing his legs, Tom wags a brown loafer back and forth through the air. “Lincoln?”

Lincoln’s eyes dart to his father and, after a conflicted moment of indecision, he confirms my wild tales with a shallow nod of the head.

“Jesus Christ,” Tom whispers to the tray ceiling above.

I realize I’m finally looking at Tom and the shame in his eyes breaks my heart. I knew that would happen which is why I refused to look in the first place. “I am so sorry, Tom; I really am, but you’ve got everything backwards,” I say. “And Lincoln would never tell you the truth, no matter how much your resentment tore him apart.”

“This is nonsense!” Minni suddenly announces, tears streaking her powdery cheeks. “You will leave this house at once and never come back! Both of you!”

“Minni!” Tom shouts so loud it vibrates my bones. “Stop! Fucking! Talking!” He backhands the crystal lamp, sending it smashing against the fireplace. My body stiffens and you’d think I’d be used to outbursts like this by now, but I’m not. I’ll never get used to it. Sweeping his shiny hair back into place, Tom straightens his sweater and gains control over his voice. “Don’t act like you don’t remember Hannah.”

That name sharpens my gaze. I try not to show it but it’s too late. He’s talking about the coroner’s daughter and now I’m the one who doesn’t want to hear another word.

“Hannah, Pops?”

Tom looks at Lincoln and clasps his hands together. “She dated Jack for a cup of coffee before Sienna came into the picture,” he explains. “Lovely girl.”

Lincoln and I look at each other.

Staring out the balcony doors across the room, Tom’s eyes get lost outside. “Came by one night with a fresh shiner and told us everything through a curtain of tears. I was so fucking pissed at Jack, I nearly killed him with my bare hands.” Drawing a stubborn breath, Tom releases it. “I threatened to destroy him, professionally and personally, and thought he’d gotten the message.” He looks directly at me. “I’m sorry he didn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t press Hannah to go to the police and I am terribly saddened another had to suffer at the hands of my child. That is on me. From the bottom of my heart, Sienna, I deeply apologize and beg your undeserving forgiveness.”

Wiping my eyes, I try to bail Tom out with something kind to say back, something merciful, but nothing comes out. My mind is overheating and, in my peripheral vision, I realize Minni is crying into a silk handkerchief. What’s left of my heart falls out onto the floor with the shards of broken crystal. Her walls come tumbling down, bringing my anger right with it. In a frightening turn, guilt is quick to follow. “I’m sorry, Minni,” I say in a weak voice.

Vehemently shaking her head, she waves the handkerchief through the air, signaling her surrender. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. This is my fault; I never thought he would do that again and I just don’t understand why he couldn’t…”

Tom pats her knee and she cries harder. “There, there, dear.”

“We raised him better than that!” she shouts, making Tom flinch. “And damn Jack for making us hate him again like this! After everything we’ve already been through.”

Lincoln trades a look with me, a silent understanding passing between us. Before the coroner came along, neither of us knew about Hannah and precedent always speaks volumes. Jack would’ve become one of those guys who, eventually, goes too far and puts someone in the hospital or worse. But I stopped him and Lincoln knows it. It’s just too bad Minni and Tom have to take one last sucker punch to the gut on our way out. This changes everything, but better they know the truth about Jack than hate the son who’s still alive. Lincoln deserves their love, not their scorn.

Minni rises from the fancy couch and rushes across the room, pulling me to my feet and hugging me so hard I can barely breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Sienna,” she sobs into my neck, her flowery perfume making my eyes water. Or maybe my eyes are watering because Lincoln and I won’t lose them now after all. Maybe we can have everything.

Tom comes over and wraps his arms around us, joining in a group hug I will surely never forget. “Lincoln?” he says, gesturing at him.

Lincoln looks over his shoulder to see if Tom is talking to someone else named Lincoln and I can’t hide a smile.

“Come on,” Tom says, feverishly gesturing.

Grudgingly, Lincoln gets to his feet and wraps his arms around the three of us, making it a foursome. Minni and Tom squeeze harder, driving the wind from our lungs and flooding my heart with something foreign. Something I saw in others but never felt for myself.

Family.

“Okay,” Lincoln says, breaking the circle. “Who just grabbed my ass?”

Tom grins at him. “Sorry, I thought that was your mother.”

Backing away and resting his hands on his hips, Lincoln studies the three of us through glassy eyes. “I’m glad we came by.”

“Me too,” Minni says, dabbing at her tears.

 “But we should get going. I hate driving at night,” he says, giving me a playful wink.

Minni’s face folds into her neck. “Wait, you’re still leaving? Lincoln, you don’t have to run from us now. You can stay.”

“Mom, this is something I have to do.”

“We have to do,” I correct him, looping an arm through his and making him glow.

“Then the least I can do is play the part of silent investor,” Tom says, opening a drawer in the end table and removing a checkbook from inside. “Food trucks are very hot right now,” he says, reminding me of Wendy. “Read all about them in NatGeo’s History last month. They started out as food carts outside the Colosseum, ya know?”

“Pop, I appreciate it, I really do, but I have to…” Lincoln stops to correct himself. “We have to do this on our own.”

Ignoring him, Tom reaches beneath his sweater and pulls a silver pen from a shirt pocket. “That’s fine, Lincoln. I’m not planning on washing dishes or cleaning grease traps. I just want to invest.” His eyebrows rise. “How does twenty grand sound to start?”

Lincoln laughs and drops his face into a hand.

“Okay fine,” Tom replies, writing out the check. “Let’s make it twenty-five.”

“No, Pop, I’ve been saving up for this for three years.” He looks at me and smirks, sending a flutter of tingles sizzling through me. “We’re all set, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” I smile, squeezing his hand. “We are.”

Staring blankly at us, Tom closes the checkbook and shrugs. “If you change your mind, just let me know,” he says, tossing it on the table. “I’m always looking for promising startups.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I will, however, take the Chevelle back,” Lincoln offers, stiffening a little. “If that’s okay.”

Tom plops a meaty hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “That car will always be yours, Lincoln. You know that.”

The muscles loosen in Lincoln’s face. “Thanks, Pops. I’ll fly back and get it in a few weeks.”

“I’ll keep it in the garage until then.”

Minni steps into my face and smiles warmly up at me. “I know it wasn’t easy coming here and I can’t even pretend to imagine what you’ve been through. It hurts to even try.” She collects more tears with her handkerchief. “Thank you.”

I hug her again, but not too hard for fear of breaking her brittle bones.

Lincoln hugs it out with his parents one more time and then we’re standing there staring at each other without knowing how to say goodbye. Sighing, I wonder what they’d think if they knew I pushed their sonofabitch son down the stairs and killed him. I wonder what they’d think of me then. Shaking the intrusive thought from my head before it gives me away, I stop another tear from escaping.

“We’ll be back for Christmas,” Lincoln tells them. “Or maybe you can come down there.”

“Down there?” Minni exchanges a worried look with her husband. “Wherever are you going? I hope not Mexico. It’s much too dangerous.”

“It’s a surprise,” he replies, towing me closer to the front door that bursts open before we reach it.

Mary fills the doorway, a silhouette against the daylight beyond. Her chest heaves. Red hair blows up around her on the wind. “Rice on a popsicle stick! Thank gosh you’re here,” she pants, barging inside without bothering to shut the door. “I think I found the thief who stole Jack’s Corvette!”