Blame It On Paris

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WILL STOOD AT his father's office window. The view was his dad's favorite-not the river, not trees or a pretty landscape, but the sea of concrete and brick manufacturing facilities stretched below. For the past hour, the telephone had been glued to his ear. When he had occasion to be off the phone, it was only to turn to the mounds of crises covering his father's sleek slate desk.

The boat ride with Kelly might as well have been months ago instead of a week. His begging her to come back to Paris with him-she'd never had a chance to say yes or no. He kept telling himself she'd been going to say yes.

That yes was still possible.

He was holding on to that hope like a lifeline in a stormy sea.

"Mr. Maguire…"

Will spun around and viewed Aaron's new comptroller with suspicious eyes. First off, John Henry persisted in calling him Mr. Maguire. Second off, the guy was so perfect he probably didn't have to spit after brushing his teeth. He didn't joke, didn't cough, didn't trip, never complained, was courteous first thing in the morning-in short, he never did one human thing.

Something was off. Will couldn't pin it down, but nobody could be this perfect every second. Stranger yet was his sense of style. John Henry-what kind of a name was that?-could have auditioned for an escort service.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," John said, "but I have the reports you asked for, and you did ask me to bring them right away."

"I did. And I needed them right away. Thanks, John. I'll get back to you later."

South Bend was famous for Studebakers-a car that failed. The city was also famous for Notre Dame, of course. And then there were the Maguires, upstart Irish once upon a time, but Irish who weren't afraid to get their hands dirty. It wasn't a romantic business his family had gotten into, just the formula for an indestructible alloy. So far the product had been used on everything from trains to computers, from race cars to military hardware.

"Will…" Ms. Randolph showed up at his door next. She'd been his father's right-hand assistant for as long as he could remember. Her age was around 110, her gray hair wirier than a terrier's, and lions couldn't compete with her loyalty.

As far as Will could tell, she was part of the evil conspiracy determined to keep him here. Unlike any sane employee-who would surely think the prodigal son wouldn't know shit about running the place and was just going to muck everything up-Ms. Randolph acted as if the sun rose and set with him. She adored him.

More nauseating yet, he adored her.

"Your father called from the hospital," she reported. "He'd appreciate your calling him before you leave tonight."

"For a fresh set of questions and orders, and the daily tongue-lashing, I suspect." Will said wryly.

"I think he wants to pull the great escape tonight, but he won't be able to manage it without you."

"Oh my God, is he delusional? He actually believes I'd help spring him from the hospital so he could go home?"

"He does. But he knows you won't leave here for hours yet. And sometime over the next hour or so, Blake, in the finishing department, wants you to take a look at the Ariber proposal before we send it out." She glanced at him. "Blake thinks you don't know beans, so watch yourself."

"Thanks."

"Ariber can't be familiar to you. It's a relatively new customer, but one of your dad's pet projects. Not a big profit to be had on this specific project, but serious opportunities down the road. Your father felt it was an important contract to land." After filling him on the rest, she tapped her notepad. "Did you get lunch?"

"No, Mom. But I'm a big boy and can feed myself."

"Humph. I've slapped your father upside the head, so don't think I can't do it to you. You'll either start scheduling a regular lunch or I'll start having it catered at noon."

"Hey, I can fire you, remember?"

"In a pig's eye. You gave me a new job title and a salary increase the minute you got here."

"That was only because my father's stingy."

"Actually…he is. A little." She looked uncomfortable. "I don't mean to imply that your father doesn't treat me absolutely fairly in every way. And you know how I love Maguire's. I had everything I needed-"

"This wasn't about what you needed. It was about merit and power, cookie. And you deserved more power. You've earned it."

"Well, heaven knows, that's true." Ms. Randolph stalked toward the door like the martinet she was. "But for the record, if you call me 'cookie' again, you might not live to see the next daylight." She closed his door on her way out.

When she knew he had a mountain to tackle, she always closed his door, then guarded it with the tenaciousness of a street bully. And she was right. Somehow he had to pack in eight hours of work before he could leave today-and it was already three in the afternoon. And no, he hadn't had time for lunch. In fact, he was damn near light-headed from hunger.

Hunger for food.

Hunger to be anywhere on the planet but here.

Hunger to be with Kelly. Just anywhere with Kel. Alone.

Ms. Randolph paged him right when he was knee-deep in trouble, out in the pre-finishing production area, where the lighting was fierce and the temperature brain-baking. Maybe the heat contributed to old Willy Blake's attitude. The foreman had never liked hearing criticism, and liked listening to new ideas even less.

Ms. Randolph said crisply. "You've got a Kelly Rochard on line three. She knows you're busy. Said she could call back, but I figured you could use the sound of a sweet voice. Particularly if you've been listening to Blake cuss for long."

Will was too whipped to even tease back. "Thanks."

He punched in line three, one hand covering his right ear so he had a prayer of hearing Kelly clearly. Which he did. And simply the sound of her voice made him grin.

"Darn it, Will. I hate bothering you," she said violently.

"You never bother me."

"Yeah. I do. Of course I do. But I wanted to know how your dad was. and I couldn't call you at his place, because your mom could easily overhear anything you wanted to say. And if you were back at your sister's, I figured you'd be sacked out, so I didn't want to bother you there. So the only place left to call you was-"

Before she went on explaining forever, Will figured he'd just jump in and answer her question. "Well, my dad's ornery. Crabby. Insufferable. But I'm supposed to spring him from the hospital after dinner. The family doesn't think he's ready to come home yet, worried that he's way more than my mom can handle. So he called me to come do the jailbreak."

"My. How much fun you're having, huh?"

"I don't suppose you'd like to come with me?"

"To help take your dad home? I'd love to." There. Just like that. A god-awful job turned into something livable.

AARON WAS IN THE MIDDLE of yelling at a nurse and two aides when they walked in. When his dad spotted Kelly, though, you'd think an angel had arrived. He calmed right down.

"We're going to make Will do all the annoying paperwork, and we'll get you out of here." Kelly said immediately.

"Finally, someone who listens to me!"

"I don't blame you for being frustrated. Hospitals are terrible places, aren't they?"

That was all she had to say for Aaron to go into his monologue. "You can't rest in here. They're always poking you or prodding you. Can't even go to the bathroom on your own without some pip-squeak yelling at you. The only food they serve that's edible is Jell-O. How is a grown man supposed to get stronger on Jell-O, I ask you."

Will hit the offices, and got two exuberant kisses from nurses on the way back up to the room. He didn't figure the smooches were because of his sex appeal, just a measure of gratitude that he was taking Aaron Maguire off their hands.

Not that Will would admit it aloud, but unlike the hospital staff, he was damned glad to see his father yelling and acting feisty again. Aaron still looked beat-up, and he clearly couldn't put any weight on his right ankle. But by the time Will caught up with Kelly, she had his dad in a wheelchair and Aaron was chuckling at something she'd said.

He looked at her, just shaking his head. It wasn't a good thing, being in love with a woman who was this skilled at malarkey and charm. Everyone in his family knew Aaron was stubborn as a goat-and completely intractable once he'd made up his mind.

'"Your dad and I were talking." Kelly mentioned on the drive home, her voice very cheerful from the backseat. "He doesn't need help at home. And he's sick to death of everyone talking to him about rehab. He doesn't want strangers around."

"I sure as hell don't." Aaron agreed gruffly.

"But we were figuring that your mom is in different shoes. She's so used to your dad doing things that she might be a little thrown for a week or two."

"No more than that," Aaron qualified.

"I can't imagine she'd need more than that, either," Kelly said soothingly. "But the point, Will, is that we were thinking your mom might need some help for the next couple weeks. Not for your dad, but for her. But we're both a little worried that your mom can't be talked into the idea."

"You have no idea how stubborn my wife is," Aaron affirmed.

"But if you could have a private talk with your mom, Will." Kelly said gently. "You know, just suggest an extra guy servant around for a couple of weeks, someone to do lifting, the heavier things around the place. We don't want to offend her pride. We could pretend it was for your dad."

At the family house, Will only had a second to say a word privately with Kelly before getting his father out of the car. "You actually did it. Talked my dad into help in the house. Made him think it was for my mom. What do you want-diamonds? A medal? A paragraph in Ripley's?"

She grinned. "Hey, you saved me in Paris. Just trying to do a little rescuing of my own." But then she motioned to the Maguire house with a major change in expression. "Will?"

"What?"

"Look, I knew your family was well-off. But holy kamoly. This place is just way beyond me."

He frowned. She'd never acted impressed or scared off by the Maguire money before-well, maybe for two seconds when they'd first met in Paris-but not once they got to know each other.

Still, he tried to see the place from Kelly's eyes. The grounds looked their best in late May. Irish-green and satin-soft. South Bend was on the flat side, but his dad had the money-and the stubbornness-to build his own hills, enabling the house to be built on levels. Each floor looked out onto its own unique landscaping: a Japanese garden from the top level; a woody, sloped area leading to a pool and tennis courts from the back; and flowering trees and open gardens at the front entrance.

None of it was new to Will, but seeing Kelly inhale the grounds, he could see it wasn't too bad from the outside. Even if, to him, it was a cage.

His dad, by then, was out of the car, and his mom was peeling out the back door. Naturally Will had pulled up to the one entrance that didn't have stairs. Even so, when he maneuvered the wheelchair to his dad. Aaron immediately started a new rant, claiming that he could walk on his own, thank you very much, he wasn't an invalid, didn't need fussing over…

"Come on, Dad, for Pete's sake-"

But Kelly stepped in, as she had at the hospital. When she took the wheelchair, Aaron willingly sat in it.

His mom sent Will a look, as astounded by Aaron's changed behavior as he was. Both of them had discussed getting help, but Aaron had unequivocably and furiously denied needing it. Now, as he was wheeled in the door, he barked at Will to get extra hands in the house. Immediately. For at least two weeks.

His mother cornered him several minutes later. Aaron was settled in his favorite room, the library, where dark green fabric walls matched the green leather couches, and recessed lighting in the bookshelves provided soft, unobtrusive light. A hospital bed had been set up in here, partly because it was on the first floor with an attached bathroom, and partly because it was one of Aaron's favorite rooms.

Kelly was sitting with him when Will took off for the kitchen with his mom. Aaron wanted fresh strawberries and cream. Will was putting together a half sandwich and drink to go with it.

His mother said, "My God. She's a wonder."

"Yeah, she is."

"Your sisters will never believe it. That anyone could get your dad in a wheelchair. Or that he could be conned into getting some help." Barbara handed him the tray to take in. once she'd added a linen napkin and silverware. His mom had the softest eyes in the universe, but just occasionally, they could look quite shrewd. "So…it's clearly become more serious?"

"You want help with Dad, or you want to pry?"

"I'd rather pry."

But his mom gave him a quick hug and let it go-for then. An hour later, Aaron turned from cantankerous tyrant into sleeping baby, and Will drove Kelly home.

He caught her first smothered yawn-and the second big one she couldn't try to hide. "You're beat?"

"Yeah. Really long day at work."

"And then I added this stress package with my dad. On the other hand, this means I owe you. And it's always to your advantage for me to owe you."

"Darn right," Kelly agreed.

"I have an idea. On how I could pay you back."

"Is it expensive and decadent?"

"Hey. Would I waste your time on anything less?"

"Okay," she said. "I'm game."

"Tomorrow night…"

She made a sound. "Will, I've got my mom's birthday party coming up. Tomorrow I have to take her shopping for it."

"And that has to be tomorrow?"

"Pretty much, it really does. Because we're running out of evenings to do it-and she wants clothes- so we always go together to pick them out."

"Ah," he said, thinking he should have known that from his sisters. "So…Thursday night."

"Okay, what time?"

"What time can you get free?"

"Um… six, earliest."

"Then six it is."

BY WEDNESDAY NIGHT at eight-thirty, Kelly was comatose, sprawled outside a dressing room at Ann Taylor.

She'd already raided most of Grape Road with her mom, checking out the usual suspects-Talbots, Coldwater Creek, Chico's, the mall's specialty stores. Typically her mom claimed to be a size eight, would never be more than a six, and looked cuter than the devil no matter what she tried on.

The problem was getting Char to choose. She knew Kelly's budget, and was allergic to getting anything that wasn't on sale. They'd started after work-in a downpour-gulped down fast food for energy and then begun the siege.

Outside the dressing room, Kelly was using bags and purses for a pillow. Her eyes were closed in a mininap when her cell phone vibrated. She couldn't help but smile and feel her tummy warm when she heard Will's voice.

"How's the present shopping going?"

"We're having a blast. But thank God the stores close soon." She added. "Everything okay?" Ever since last night, she'd thought nonstop about his dad. that fabulous unique mansion and how even mighty rich people could be crabby when they didn't feel well. Her ego was still soaring about that whole business. She'd loved helping Will with his parents. She'd have loved both his dad and mom even if she hadn't loved Will.

"Everything's fine…"

Her eyes popped open and she sat up abruptly. "Is there a problem with tomorrow night?"

"Not at all. We're on. Actually. I'm calling for business."

She relaxed again. '"Sure you are."

"No. Really. You do searches on people, right?"

"You know I do. Primarily credit card identity theft."

"So what do you charge for doing these people searches?"

Char emerged from the dressing room in a little black dress. Kelly shook her head. First, because her mom already had a zillion little black dresses, and she almost never wore them. And second, because it was dowdy. "Do you mean, how much would it cost you? Or a normal person?" she asked Will.

"Hey, I'm normal." His tone sounded wounded.

She chuckled. "Well, the going rate is set by the hour. But it also includes expenses. Most of the time, there really aren't any. Most of what I do is on the computer. It's just occasionally I have to travel. Anyway, I can't really give you a flat rate because it honestly depends on the job."

"Okay…" She heard background noise, then a door closing. "Whatever your rate is, I'll pay it. I need you to look into a guy who works at Maguire's. Name of John Henry. I can give you his address, birth date and social security number. I know you have other irons in the fire and might not be able to do this right away-"

She frowned. Her mom emerged from the dressing room again, this time in a cream-and-coral-print skirt with a coral top. If the outfit didn't have Char's name on it. it should have. Kelly gave her an exuberant thumbs-up. but she was still frowning into the phone. "Will, you know I'm not a private investigator, don't you? Because if this is about somebody's divorce or private life-"

"This is about someone working for my dad, where things just aren't adding up. I'd like to be sure his name is real. That he's who he says he is. That's all."

She slumped farther against the wall. "Are you inventing this mini-job just to keep your mitts on me?"

"Kelly, Kelly, Kelly. That is so unfair." He paused. "If I'd thought of that, actually, I'd probably do it. But as it happens, this is on the up-and-up."

She chuckled again, then stopped. Her mom was back in the dressing room. A gaggle of women had just left, leaving the general hallway calm for that moment. She said quietly, "I talked to her, Will. About my dad."

He understood how long it had taken her to finally get this done. "And?"

"And…I went into the conversation so, so mad. Mad that she'd lied to me. Mad that she'd invented a father who never existed and mad that I never had a chance to know my real one."

"And now?"

She didn't think her mother could hear behind the closed door, but she still moved away from the dressing rooms, keeping an eye peeled in case Char came out. "Now I realize the obvious. That my mom wouldn't have lied unless she felt she had to. At the time, she just didn't think she had a lot of choices. I think she lost her head and her heart in Paris. She believed he loved her. She thought they had something real. And all that crashed when she discovered he was married, but it was even more than that. She lost faith in herself, in her judgment." Kelly would have said more, but she saw the dressing room doorknob turn. "I have to go. Will. See you tomorrow night."

Her mother saw her shut the cell phone, but she worked her over about the outfit first. "I like it, I admit, but it costs too much. Particularly when you've got a tight budget right now."

They did the same song, different lyrics but the same refrain, every birthday. "Nonsense. The day I can't buy my mother a birthday present, I'm throwing in the towel." Kelly grabbed the top and skirt before her mother could escalate the discussion.

"I heard you on the phone-were you talking to Jason?"

"No, Mom."

"But have you? Talked with him?"

Kelly dug out her wallet before they reached the checkout line. "Yup. He showed up at work. A very uncomfortable conversation, which I wouldn't be telling you about at all, except that I'm almost sure he'll show up at the block party on Saturday. He won't raise trouble on your birthday that I can imagine. But if you can't find me at some point, it's probably because I'm hiding in your closet behind your shoe boxes."

"Hmm."

"And what does that hmm mean?" The checkout girl took her time, way too much time, folding the outfit with exquisite care, so there was no escaping the store too quickly.

"Are you still seeing that other man? The one from Paris?"

"His name is Will, Mom."

"Yes. Will Maguire. Of the Maguires." Her mother's voice didn't drip disapproval. Just opinion. Char might have come to believe that Will wasn't totally responsible for her breaking up with Jason, but people with the Maguire kind of money weren't remotely on their Christmas card list.

"You didn't like him?"

"The question isn't whether I like him. Or you do. The question is whether you're in love with him. And whether you're ready to risk any more heartache or trauma in your life right now."

"I don't know." Kelly admitted. "Nothing seems to come with a guarantee. I'm going with my heart, and maybe that's the most foolish thing I could be doing. But the only man who really threw a trauma into my life wasn't Will, Mom. It was my father."

Her mom suddenly looked small. "That was my fault."

Guilt pinched her heart. "The hell it was. You're a fabulous mother. And you've made an outstanding success of your life, totally on your own. That my dad didn't appreciate you is his loss. You didn't do a single thing wrong. All you did was fall in love."

Her mom laughed, and they hugged, both of them carrying packages but still managing to walk hip to hip to the car.

It was later, brushing her teeth before bed, that Kelly rethought that exchange. Her mom really hadn't done anything wrong except innocently fall in love. Maybe Kelly wouldn't have lied, but she understood why her mother felt she'd had to.

What troubled her now. though, was the resounding echo of their lives. She couldn't deny it. She'd fallen fiercely in love. In Paris. At a time when her whole sense of self had been shaken up.

So howwas she supposed to know if what she felt for Will was real?

If it could last?

Or if loving him would cause repercussions through her whole life, the way loving the wrong man had affected her mother's?