Introducing Daddy
“I’d lose it.”
“We could have taken the stairs.”
“Are you nuts? Forty-some-odd floors?”
While the others swapped elevator war stories, Evie kept her head ducked and counted the minutes. Every time the car stopped passengers changed; some got off, some on. She pressed herself as deeply into her corner as she could and tried not to see the people, not to hear them. She wished she could look at her watch. Had it been fifteen minutes? Did the security guard really mean he’d have the van towed in fifteen minutes or he’d call to have it towed in fifteen minutes?
Again the car stopped and this time the elevator disgorged nearly all its passengers. Before the doors closed two men stepped on—charcoal gray legs and khaki legs. Khaki Legs said, “So, are we on for Wednesday?”
“Wednesday’s good for me.”
That’s all he said. Just “Wednesday’s good for me,” but Evie’s body underwent the same reaction it had the first time she’d heard that voice fourteen years earlier. The hair on her nape stood, and her stomach erupted in a storm of butterflies.
Oh, please, no. Don’t let him see me. Please. I’ll go to Mass, to confession even. I’ll make the nine first Fridays. I’ll join the Altar Society. Hail, Mary, full of grace—
Another boom of thunder seemed to make the whole building shudder, and the lights flicked off for a full three seconds.
“That was close,” Adam Rabalais murmured. “Think it struck the building?”
“Could have,” his companion answered. “Happens all the time.”
Evie held her breath. I’ll stay on until he gets off. I don’t care if I have to ride this thing to the moon.
Something told her he was looking at her, noticing her. But how could he not be curious? There were only three of them in the elevator—two smartly dressed businessmen and one extremely short person who wore squishy sneakers, rumpled, rain-soaked jeans and carried an enormous Burmese hamper. That same person was obviously cowering under an old, yellow rain slicker and had frantic blue-black ringlets of hair crawling out of her hood.
Why? she wondered. Why is this happening? It’s like a nightmare or a horrible movie. Evie bowed her head against the basket. The cellophane crackled maliciously.
When the elevator car creaked to a stop Khaki Legs exited. “I’ll call you Wednesday when I’m on my way,” he said.
“Right. Wednesday, then,” Adam replied. Evie recognized the thoughtful tone in his voice.
She felt bereft. She almost wanted to follow dear old Khaki Legs out but she had no idea what floor they were on. She didn’t dare to look up to check, either. Besides, if she started to get off, Adam would notice that there was still another floor punched. He might speak to her, and if she answered, he’d recognize her voice for sure. And her height. She was so damned short.
Why didn’t I wear tall shoes, she wondered. Oh, right…wet blue jeans and pumps. Just what all the delivery drivers are wearing. What could possibly be more low profile? Please, God, she prayed, please don’t let him talk to me.
“That’s a beautiful basket, but it’s nearly as big as you are.”
You just have to be Mr. Friendly, don’t you? Why can’t you leave me alone? “Mmmm,” she answered, trying to disguise her voice and ducking her head even lower. She wished she could hide her bony little hands and the frenzied hair that refused to stay wadded up inside her hood.
A moment of cold, pregnant silence ensued, during which Evie sent up one more desperate prayer that Adam hadn’t recognized her voice—that he wouldn’t try to make her say anything else and give herself away completely. She swallowed and kept her gaze riveted to the floor. The angle of his gleaming wingtips told her that he’d turned to face her.
“Who’s it for?”
Oh, God, he knows. Evie didn’t answer.
“I said, who’s it for?” This time his voice was peremptory and demanding.
Evie looked up hot-faced and unashamed of the sheen in her eyes. “Your fiancée, Adam.”
For a fleeting instant a look of joyful disbelief flashed across his face, and he stepped toward heralmost reflexively. Then his look hardened.
Evie took a deep breath to make sure her voice was steady. “By the way, when were you planning to tell her that you’re still married to me?”
Chapter Two
Evie’s heart slammed in her chest as Adam nailed her with a cold glare.
“I’m surprised to hear you ask that, Evie. Since when do you care where I go or who I spend time with?”
She glared right back into his eyes. The first time Mrs. Alexander had seen him, she’d remarked, “Gray as rain. Even when he laughs he looks so sad. His eyes are the color of tears.”
Evie raised her chin and tried to make her face hard. “I don’t care,” she said. “I’d just find it a little embarrassing to be married to a bigamist.”
“Well,” he said, “thanks so much for your overwhelming warmth and concern.”
Evie scowled at him, then faced the door. The elevator shuddered, and a deep, faraway rumble told her the storm still churned overhead. I’m not going to look at him. Maybe this isn’t happening. Maybe I’m having a horrible nightmare.
She could feel him staring at her. Waves of hostile incredulity poured through the tiny space. How long had it been since she’d seen him? Nine months? No, ten. And how long before that had it been since they’d looked at each other with anything other than anger and resentment?
The last time she’d spoken to him was more than six months ago when he’d called from Buenos Aires and caught her at her aunt’s house, but that conversation hadn’t lasted long. As usual, it took only moments before one of them started yelling and the other one slammed down the phone. That last conversation had ended on a particularly devastating note. And now, here she was, suspended with him in an eight-by-eightfoot box somewhere halfway up One Shell Plaza.
When thunder boomed again, the car hesitated and the lights flickered. Evie groaned against the feeling of weightless nausea and hugged her basket tighter. No, not this. Not now. Once again they began to rise, but in only seconds, with a hydraulic scream, the elevator car bounced to a stop. Evie heard her breath escaping with a terrified hiss; Adam didn’t even seem to notice they’d quit moving.
He uncrossed his arms but didn’t step toward her, he just rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “I’m sorry, Evie. That’s not what I meant to say.”
She cut him the ugliest glance she could manage and then turned away again. The pressure of furious tears intensified in the back of her throat. Hurry, elevator. Hurry, hurry. She clutched the hamper to her middle and hoped that the huge basket would disguise her weight loss, her pale complexion and her brimming, swollen eyes. I won’t look at him, and that way I won’t cry. And I don’t have to say anything, either. I’ll just deliver my basket and get the hell out of here, and things will go on just like I planned. “What’s wrong with this thing? Is there a phone in here?” What she wanted to do was scream, Let me out.
“It’s okay,” Adam said quietly. “We’ll start up again in a minute. This happens a lot.”
For a moment he was quiet, but she felt him looking at her. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months,” he said. “Nobody will give me your number.”
“Good.” Her voice was definitely wobbling. God, she hated that. And why did she have to look like something the cat wouldn’t even bother to drag in? Not that it mattered. In fact, this was probably better. Adam, of course, looked impeccable in perfectly tailored Savile Row. Evie recognized the suit from one of his trips to the U.K. Last year? No, two years ago. She remembered because he’d been gone for their anniversary. And her birthday.
“Why, Evie? Why won’t you even talk to me?”
She didn’t look at him. “What’s the use? What could we say that we haven’t already said a thousand times?”
“I may have said it a thousand times, but it’s still true. I want you to come home, Evie.”
There was no avoiding it, she had to look at him; talking at the elevator doors was stupid. She sighed. “And where’s home this week? Argentina? Outer Mongolia? And how would you even know if I were home or not? You hardly ever bothered to show up there.” She took a quick breath and her voice lowered. “Half the time I didn’t even know where you were unless your secretary told me. I didn’t know you were back in the country until I saw your engagement notice in the paper.”
He winced. “Damn. I knew you’d see that piece of bull—but it wasn’t an engagement notice. Kimberley and I just went to a company function together because she didn’t have a date.” He paused for a long moment. “And I had no idea how to get in touch with my wife.”
His voice had been growing hard, but then his tone softened. “That was just stupid gossip from a stupid gossip column, you know that. Besides, you know Kimberley. She’s just a kid.”
“We’re the same age.”
He shook his head slightly. “For Pete’s sake, Evie, I’ve known her since she started college, and—”
“You’ve known me since I was in junior high.”
Adam’s mouth closed in a hard line, and with the deepest satisfaction Evie saw that he was losing his temper—that she’d gotten to him. Good, she thought. In the past she had never won any arguments. Adam could always talk circles around her. No matter how prepared she thought she was, she would always wind up ranting or crying, while Adam maintained his maddeningly unflappable calm.
“The point is, Evangeline,” he said slowly, “that I want you with me. I always have.”
“No, Adam,” she countered, “you don’t want me with you. You want someone at home in case you decide to show up there. You want dinner on the table and your errands run. You want an acceptable arm hanger for social functions and someone to see that your family gets Christmas cards and birthday presents.”
“Evie, please, not this again.”
“You started it.”
When she saw the flash of hopelessness cross his face she turned away. Despite everything that had happened between them, she still hated to see him unhappy. Be strong. You know what’s at stake here. If he knew…
“Couldn’t we go somewhere and just talk?”
The ache in his voice wrenched her heart. Part of her—most of her—wanted more than anything to spend hours, years, talking to him. Any second she knew she might drop the basket along with the pretense of anger and fling herself into his arms. Yes, right back into the same situation you were in for the past seven years. But it’s not just the two of you anymore, is it? Think of her. That one thought evaporated her momentary fantasy of a tearful reconciliation.
She looked straight into his gray eyes. You’d better make this convincing. “You don’t get it, do you?” The shock and pain in his face twisted her insides. “Remember the last time that I said ‘This is the last time?’ Well, believe it or not, it really was the very last time.” Her voice was thinning out, and she felt the return of incipient tears. “I think it’s pretty obviousit’s been obvious for years—that we want different things, Adam. Different lives.”
“I don’t,” he said. “I want the life we had together back.”
“Well, excuse me,” she said in a choked voice. “Maybe you want the same old life, but it’s just not good enough for me anymore. I don’t want to live alone. I want a husband and a family. I’m not a talking doll, Adam. Just once I’d like to come first—not second or third or fourth behind business meetings and rig workovers and power dinners—”
“You are the most important thing in the world to me, Evie. You always have been.”
“Am I? What about Christmas, Adam? What about the robbery? You left me to go off on your trip.”
Although it had almost been a year, the hideous images remained fresh in her mind—the drizzling December day, her back seat loaded with packages, carols on the radio as she’d stopped for the traffic light. The impact from the car slamming into her from behind had thrown her into the steering wheel and knocked her breath away. She hadn’t known not to get out; she’d never even heard the expression “bump androb.” Besides, when she’d seen the sleek, luxury sedan behind her, it had never occurred to her that it might have been stolen.
By the time she’d opened her door, they’d already swarmed out of their car and had been waiting to jerk her off her feet and throw her down onto the concrete. The opening at the end of gun had looked enormous—like a black, toothless mouth. Please, God, she’d prayed. Don’t let him…
“I made a mistake, Evie. But what was I supposed to do? The robbery was terrifying, I’ll admit, but you weren’t hurt, and the summit in Mexico was critical. You knew it meant jobs for hundreds of people, and I was the only one who…How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
But he hadn’t been sorry at the time. His office had caught him at the airport that day, and he’d burst through the doors of the Emergency Room, wild-eyed with rage. But he hadn’t canceled his business trip; he’d just put it off for a day.
One whole day.
She’d begged him not to leave. He’d begged her instead to come along with him—the negotiations were unraveling, he’d said. Governments were squaring off and a multinational consortium was on the verge of collapse.
Evie had raised her hands and showed him where the gravel had gouged away the skin. Then she’d pulled up her skirt to reveal the purple bruise on her thigh where one of them had stepped on her.
Still, he’d left the next day.
So had she.
That memory renewed her strength. “Well, here we go again,” she said acidly. “you’ve started with Plan A and since that wasn’t working you jumped directly to Plan C.”
“What? Plan A? What—?”
“You see, Adam, over the past ten months I’ve had some time to figure things out. Whenever you don’t show up or do what you promised, you always do one of three things. Plan A is you deny it. Plan B is you say something like, ‘Okay, maybe I did do that, but it wasn’t so bad.’ If it’s Plan C you say, ‘Yeah, I did that and it was awful, but I’ll never do it again.’ But nothing changes. You always do exactly what you want no matter what you promised.”
The surge of angry strength was quickly spent, and when Evie went on, her voice was almost lost even in that small, quiet space. “You send some little gift—or some big gift—and expect it to make up for any betrayal, any broken promise. But flowers aren’t the same as a phone call, and a new bracelet isn’t the same thing as coming home when you say you will. Material things don’t equal time. Or love.”
Even though she spoke quietly, her words had their own power. “If you loved me so much, why didn’t I ever come first? Why wasn’t I ever number one on your list of things to db? Or even number two? Or three? Our marriage was always the very last thing on your list of things to take care of.”
“Evie, you know how—”
The elevator suddenly lurched, and Evie let out a little scream.
“What the hell…?” Adam muttered.
“It’s moving. Thank God.”
In seconds they stopped at the thirty-eighth floor, and the doors slid open. Evie stepped forward, sick with relief to make her escape. When Adam followed her, she stopped so fast he almost ran into her. “This isn’t your floor,” she said.
He almost snorted. “You don’t really think I’m just going to let you walk away, do you?”
She knew arguing was pointless, so she turned and stalked across the elevator lobby toward the glass doors. Adam’s long strides easily carried him past her, and before she reached the door, he stepped in front and grabbed the brass pull.
“Thanks,” she snapped.
“My pleasure.”
The receptionist’s desk sat on an emerald island of plush carpet set in the middle of a vast, marble floor and was flanked by deep leather couches and coffee tables. Behind her, a wall of glass looked north and west over the roofs of the Central Library and City Hall and beyond that to Allen’s Landing and the tangled interchange of Interstate 45 and the Katy Freeway. The heavy sky roiled and glowered behind her.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, the stylishly gaunt young woman glanced up. Beneath the curving desk Evie could see that smoke-colored hose covered her shapely legs, and she wore forties-style shoes that revealed scarlet toenails. She gave Evie an assessing once-over, and her eyes registered cool disapproval, but when she saw Adam, her face broke into a radiant, porcelain-veneered smile. “Mr. Rabalais,” she gushed.
“Hello, Lisa.”
She beamed. “It’s so nice to see you.”
The girl’s voice had risen and stretched out melodiously as she spoke to Adam. “So nice to see-e-e you.” Oh, barf, Evie thought, and stomped across the floor so her shoes would really squish. She stopped in front of the desk and set the basket down. A leather desk blotter, a magazine and a nail file were arranged artfully next to a small phone set, and a computer sat blank and silent on one corner of the desk. Untouched by human hands, Evie thought, judging by the blonde’s flawless manicure. “I have a delivery for Miss Van Kyle. Would you sign, please.”
With obvious reluctance the girl tore her enraptured gaze from Adam’s face and looked at Evie. “Of course,” she said, and held out her hand. Her eyes immediately snapped back to their original target. “Is there someone I should buzz for you, Mr. Rabalais?”
“No, but thanks, Lisa. By the way, this is my wife, Evangeline. Evie, this is Lisa Roark.”
The girl’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, and she blushed very prettily and murmured something that sounded like, “It’s very nice to…I-I’m sorry I didn’t realize…”
Evie crimped her mouth into a smile. “Delighted,” she said, and again glared at her husband. When the girl finished signing, Evie tore off the receipt, thanked her and turned. Adam’s movements mirrored hers. Neither spoke until they stepped back into the elevator.
“Thank you for that, Adam.”
“Delighted,” he replied.
She felt him standing just behind her, his gaze boring a hole into her back. Her heart began to pound again and she stared at the ceiling, the door, the back of her left hand. When the doors opened, she practically leapt out. Obviously he planned to follow her to the garage. “What are you doing?” she flung at him over her shoulder. “You can’t follow me. I’ll start screaming. I’ll make a scene, Adam, I mean it.”
“Scream away. I told you before, Evie. I’m not letting you out of my sight until we talk.”
She kept walking, then she stiff-armed the swinging doors to the loading dock and all but ran down the short hallway. “Lots of luck,” she said. “You’re gonna look pretty silly running behind the van.”
He didn’t answer.
The instant she reached the loading dock steps, her heart sank. She looked left. Right. Left again.
No van. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?”
Evie ignored him and walked to the security window. “My van…”
The guard barely glanced up. “I told you, lady. Fifteen minutes.”
Evie’s chest tightened. “Thanks a lot. Now what do I do?”
He tapped the window with his pencil, and Evie saw the notice. For Towed Vehicles Call…
Oh, great. How much is this going to cost?
“Do you need a ride?”
“No, thank you. I’ll get a cab.” As soon as the words were out, Evie had a sickening realization. And pay for it with what? Her purse was carefully stowed under the front seat of the van. Besides, she couldn’t afford cab rides. Even short ones. And how much was it going to cost to get the van out of storage? She could call Olivia, but then who would watch the baby?
Evie wanted to cry. She’d been gone three times longer than she’d intended—almost an hour and a half. It was time to feed Juliette. The van was gone. Her purse was gone. She had no money. And worst of all, Adam would now know where she worked. All he had to do was read the name on the delivery receipt. Since her apartment was over the shop, he’d know where she lived, too. He’d said he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight until they talked, and she knew he meant it. She’d had plenty of experience with his stubborn streak over the years.
This had to happen sooner or later. Before you get on with your life you have things to settle with him. Now’s as good a time as any. But Evie knew there would never be a good time to do what she knew she had to do. She’d put it off for months, but now events had overtaken her. Maybe it’s best, she thought.
He was bound to find us someday.
Her shoulders slumped. Apparently Adam recognized the disintegration of her resolve. “Come with me,” he urged. “I’m parked on the first level. You know I’ll be glad to take you back to work.”
Evie sighed. “Lead the way.”
She turned to follow him. Mercifully, he kept all evidence of satisfaction out of his expression and just acted like anyone coming to the rescue of a stranded friend.
His car, as usual, was impressive—brand new with all the bells and whistles. Adam always did drive the best. She felt a momentary twinge about plopping her soaking wet bottom down on his plush seats, but there were so many other things to be miserable about, damp upholstery hardly rated a second thought.
For a moment she considered taking off the slicker and dropping it on the floorboard, but then he’d be sure to notice how much weight she’d lost. Instead, she just yanked the hood back. Her hair, freed at last, rose around her face like a curly, black sunburst. The bun wadded at the back of her neck immediately began to tickle in a really irritating way.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
So composed, she thought, so smooth—just like this is the most natural thing in the world. “The name of the shop is Something Different. It’s on—”
“Westheimer. I’ve seen it.” He turned the key, and the engine roused with a smug purr. Evie huddled against the door. Here she was, not two feet away from him. After all these months. After…everything else. She felt as if time had telescoped, as if the months had evaporated and they hadn’t been separated at all.
You’d better tell him before we get to the shop. You know he’s going to come in—if not today, someday soon. At the thought of it her stomach closed on itself and she clamped her arms over her middle.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
They ascended the ramp, and a sheet of rain smacked the windshield as the car emerged into the gray afternoon. Evie became aware of music on the stereo and recognized the song. “Desperate Men Do Desperate Things.” She reached forward and snapped it off.
“I thought you liked Jimmy LaFave.”
“I—I do. I just don’t feel like listening to music right now. Do you mind?”
“No, of course not.”
Well, aren’t we Mr. Accommodating.
Although she kept her face turned away she felt him watching her—studying her. He shifted slightly in his seat. “Jimmy’s in town this weekend. At McGonigel’s.”
“Mmm,” she said.
“Have you been there lately?”
“No. I don’t go out much.”
“I went by and talked to Rusty a couple of days ago. Teresa’s pregnant. Twins.”
She gasped. Could he possibly…? No. No way.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah.” She turned toward him. “But you’ve got to admit, Adam. This is pretty awkward. It’s ridiculous to act like things are normal between us.”
“I know. I’m just glad to see you, to be with you. But you seem, I don’t know, really jumpy.”
But she looks the same, he thought. Well, almost the same. Thinner. Pale. And he knew she’d been crying. All night long, judging by the way her eyes were puffed up. It had to be that stupid item in the paper. She’d taken off her wedding rings, too. That hurt. Again, he’d bet it was that thing in the paper. Better not to ask about it right now, he thought.