Читать книгу Christmas at Bravo Ridge - Christine Rimmer - Страница 9

Corrine offered tea and cookies. They sat by the fire sipping tea and munching on Oreos.

Aleta spotted her ring finger. “Where’s your engagement ring?”

Corrine shook her head and grabbed a second Oreo. “It wasn’t working out.” She opened the cookie, licked the white filling. “I had to, um, return it.”

“Oh, Corrine…”

“It’s…for the best. I mean that. Sometimes, well, it’s just better that you figure out before the wedding that it’s not a match made in heaven, after all.”

“You’re all right, then?”

“I’m doing fine. Honestly.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. How do you kids say it? ‘It’s all good?’”

“That’s it. Now, tell me what’s happening with you.”

Aleta’s shoulders drooped. “With me, it’s not all good.”

“What can I do? Anything, seriously.”

“If I could stay here with you just for a week or two…” Matt’s mom stirred sugar into her tea. “I can’t take it at the ranch anymore.”

“Why not? What’s happened?”

Aleta’s gaze slid away. She stared into the fire. “Well, you know Davis…”

Corrine did know. “He wants you to come back to him.”

“Worse. He demands it. You know how he is. He thinks it’s perfectly all right to burst in on me at any time of the day or night and insist that I see reason—meaning that I do things his way. When I refuse, he gets mad. When that doesn’t work, he pleads with me to give him another chance. Somehow, that’s the hardest. Seeing a proud man beg…” Her mouth quivered and her eyes spoke of heartbreak.

Corrine said softly, “I’m so sorry, Aleta.”

Matt’s mom smiled, a smile without joy. Or humor. “Tonight, I was just getting ready for bed when he barged into the suite without even bothering to knock and started in on me about how ridiculous I was being, how I was coming home with him, right then, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.” She looked down at her hand and realized she was still holding the spoon she’d used to stir her tea. Setting it carefully in the saucer, she picked up the cup and took a sip. “He’s been doing that at least twice a week since I left him.” The cup rattled against the saucer as she set it back down. “It’s very upsetting.”

“I can imagine.”

“And not only to me. Did you know that Mercy is expecting?”

“Yes. Matt told me.” When Mercy married Luke, the third-born son in the Bravo family, she’d moved in with him at Bravo Ridge. Luke was the family rancher. He ran Bravo Ridge.

“Mercy’s just entering her second trimester. I’m very fond of her, you know?” At Corrine’s nod, Aleta continued, “It’s not good, though, all that yelling and arguing and disruption. Not for any of us—and especially not for a mother-to-be. So that’s another reason I couldn’t stay at the ranch. Poor Mercy deserves a little peace and quiet.”

“You’re right, of course.”

“I’m just…” Aleta picked up her cup again. She took another sip. “Oh, Corrine, I’m at the end of my rope with that man.”

Corrine sympathized. Totally. Davis Bravo was a rich, overbearing, fat-headed snob. Corrine had never liked him. And he didn’t care much for her, either. He’d always thought his son was too good for her and he resented that she’d gotten pregnant with Matt’s child. Over the years, Davis had developed something of a soft spot for Kira, at least. But he always seemed to look down on Corrine for owning a bar, for having a baby without getting married first—not that he wanted her and Matt to get married. No way. He had bigger plans for his fourth son than to marry “some damn slutty barmaid,” as he’d called her to her face once way back when. He wanted Matt to settle down with Tabby Ellison, who wasn’t the least slutty and whose dad was almost as rich as Davis.

Aleta brushed a tear from her cheek and smoothed her negligee over her knees. “It’s just so stressful.”

“It’s okay, truly. I understand.”

“I’ve told him I need time. He won’t listen. I considered a hotel, but he’s shameless. He would have no compunction about bribing the staff so they would let him into my rooms. Here at your house, well, he doesn’t have a key. And I know how you are.” She smiled tenderly through her tears. “Tough and strong and self-reliant. He’ll never get through you.”

Tough and strong and self-reliant. It felt good, to know that Matt’s mom thought so highly of her, especially after last night, when she’d behaved exactly like the slut Davis had once accused her of being. She smiled. “Well, your husband’s a pretty tough guy. If he shows up here, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to take him down.”

For the first time that night, Aleta actually chuckled. But the laugh quickly faded. “If he shows up here, I promise to deal with him. I do fight my own battles.”

“Whew. Good to know.”

“I confess, there are several reasons I would like to stay here. It’s so homey here. Much better than a hotel.” Aleta glanced longingly around the fire-lit room. “I could be with you and my granddaughter. I could…help out. Watch Kira in the evenings, while you’re working…”

Corinne didn’t need to ask why Aleta couldn’t stay with one of her daughters. Abilene and Zoe were in their early twenties and just getting started in life, living in small apartments not suited to an open-ended visit from their mom. And those high-class girlfriends Aleta had known all her life? Staying with one of them would be awkward, to say the least. They probably didn’t even know that Aleta and Davis were living apart.

But Aleta trusted Corrine, felt comfortable with her. Plus, there was Kira. Aleta loved her granddaughter and jumped at any chance to spend time with her.

“Finish your tea,” Corrine said, rising. “And have an Oreo or two. I’ll go make up the bed in the spare room.” She blinked away a sudden, vivid image of her and Matt rolling naked on that very bed the night before. “You’re always welcome here, Aleta. Anytime. For as long as you want to stay.”

Matt called again about an hour later after Corinne and Aleta were in bed. Corrine let the machine downstairs take it. She deleted it in the morning, unheard.

Tuesday afternoon, while Aleta was out at the ranch picking up a few other things she needed, he called for the third time. Corrine refused to answer. What more was there to say? They’d blown it royally. And they wouldn’t be blowing it again. End of story.

Matt had barely finished leaving his message demanding that she call him when the phone started ringing again. That time it was Sandra Yee, Kira’s nighttime sitter, with the news that she’d hooked up with an old boyfriend and decided to stay in Dallas.

When Aleta got home, Corrine told her the problem.

Aleta shrugged. “It’s not a problem in the least. As I told you, I’m more than pleased to take care of Kira.”

She also took over the grocery shopping—and the cooking. Who knew that Matt’s mom could cook? Aleta had always had help around the house, people who cleaned and bought the groceries and prepared fancy meals.

“But I would cook, too, sometimes,” she told Corrine. “I enjoy cooking. I find it soothing.”

“Keep it up. Please,” Corrine answered, loading her plate with perfectly roasted lamb and new potatoes before heading to the Rose Wednesday night. “This is delicious.”

Thursday went by without anything much happening. Matt didn’t call. Bob had never called. By then, Corinne felt certain he wouldn’t, which was for the best. Davis hadn’t come around. Apparently, he was leaving Aleta alone for a change.

Or so Corrine assumed until Friday morning at breakfast, when Kira said, “Grandpa came to see me last night. He was mad but he gave me a big hug and then Grandma told him to go away.”

Aleta and Corrine shared a look. Aleta said, “Sweetheart, drink your juice.”

Kira frowned. “You mean you don’t want me to talk about Grandpa?”

Corrine said, “Your grandpa loves you very much.”

“But why was he so mad?”

“It’s too complicated to explain, honey,” Corrine told her. “All you really need to know is he isn’t mad at you.”

“He’s not?”

Aleta reached across and stroked Kira’s hair. “No way.”

Kira seemed to be satisfied with that. She finished up her breakfast and Corrine took her to school.

Once Corrine got back home, Aleta offered tea and the orange nut bread she’d baked the day before. They sat at the kitchen table and Aleta talked about Davis.

She didn’t say anything new exactly. Most of it was stuff Matt had already told Corrine, such as that Davis swore he never knew that Luz had had his child. “But I’ve known that man for a very long time. He would have felt some…responsibility for Luz, after what happened between them.”

“You think he would have checked on her, would have known she was pregnant after their affair?”

Aleta nodded. “And he would have added up the months.”

Corrine suggested, “Maybe he didn’t want to know.”

Aleta shrugged. “Well. I suppose that’s possible.”

“You’re hurt that he betrayed you. Still hurt, even after all these years.”

“I am. And deeply humiliated. I don’t think I really forgave him, when it happened. I just decided to go on. We had all nine of the children by then, all of them under ten. Zoe was a just a baby and Abilene was still in diapers. I asked him to leave when he told me. We were separated for a couple of weeks. But I couldn’t even consider divorcing him then. It seemed too wrong. For the children’s sake. For the family. So we reconciled. I thought I was over it. But now that I know the woman was Luz Cabrera, of all people, and that she had Davis’s child…”

“You mean you never really got over that he betrayed you?”

“No. I didn’t. I see that now.”

Corrine thought of poor Bob. Yes, she was still furious at herself for what she’d done. But at least they hadn’t gotten married—let alone had a baby. Or nine. How terrible, to be betrayed by the one person who had sworn to stick by you, to be true to you, no matter what.

She suggested, “I know this may sound strange, but what about Luz? Maybe you could talk to her? Ask her if Davis knew that Elena was his.” The idea wasn’t that far-fetched. Luz, whose husband had left her when he learned of her betrayal with Davis, was part of the Bravo family now, as bizarre as that seemed. Not only was Davis her natural daughter’s real father, but her adopted daughter, Mercy, had married Luke.

Aleta stared down at her untouched slice of orange nut bread. “Mercy says Luz told her that Davis didn’t know.”

“Well, see, then?”

Aleta only shook her head. “It’s all just too tangled up and awful.”

“You don’t believe Mercy?”

“I think she’s telling the truth as she knows it. And maybe it would be a good thing for me, to hear what Luz has to say. But frankly, I can’t bear the idea of talking to Luz. I don’t know how she would react if I approached her. I don’t know how I would react, to find myself hashing it all out again with my husband’s former lover, face-to-face. The last thing I want is to stir up more trouble. We have plenty of that now already.”

Right then, the phone rang. When Corrine ignored it, Aleta sent her a questioning look. The machine clicked on. “Damn it, Corrie.” Matt’s deep voice filled the room. “Call me.” Click. Dial tone.

Aleta arched a brow.

Corrine shook her head. “Please. Don’t even ask.”

Matt felt like a complete jerk. Probably because he was a complete jerk, pushing Corrie to have sex with him when she had another guy’s ring on her finger.

But still. Why couldn’t she take a little pity on him and return his calls, talk it out with him, give him a chance to be supportive over whatever had happened with her and Pastor Bob? It wasn’t like she wouldn’t have to deal with him eventually. They had a kid together, for crying out loud. A kid he took care of every weekend.

By 9:30 a.m. Saturday, when she still hadn’t called, he knew she would be showing up at ten as usual with Kira. Good. He’d have another chance to get through to her, to get her to see that they couldn’t go on like this.

He even had a plan. He’d bought WALL-E on Blu-ray. Kira loved WALL-E. He had it all loaded up and ready to go on the 65-inch flatscreen in the media room. Kira knew how to push Play. All he had to do was hand her the remote and point her toward the media room, simultaneously positioning himself between Corrie and the door.

It could work. And he was just desperate enough to get through to Corrie that he was standing in the foyer, remote in hand, when the doorbell rang at ten on the dot. Corrie had a key, just as he had one to her place, but they were both careful to respect each other’s privacy.

He pulled the door wide, ready with a big, friendly smile—a smile that never quite took form. It wasn’t Corrie who stood there with Kira.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, sweetheart. Hey, Mom.”

“Matthew.” His mother put her slim hand on his shoulder and went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

He stepped back. As they crossed the threshold, he asked in a voice he made as casual as possible, “Where’s Corrie?”

His mother’s smile was much too sweet. “I thought she might enjoy sleeping in late. She works until all hours most nights, you know.”

“Daddy, what’s the ’mote for?”

Matt bent down to her. “Do I get a kiss?”

Kira took his face between her two soft little-girl hands and kissed him—a quick, hard press of her small lips to his. “There. What about the ’mote?”

He handed it to her. “It’s all ready in the media room. Just push Play.”

“What is it?”

“Go see.” With a happy giggle, Kira headed off down the hall. A moment later, after a childish shout of delighted surprise, the movie started. Matt stood from his crouch. “Dad mentioned you were staying at Corrie’s. He’s not real pleased about it.”

His mother’s serene expression didn’t waver. “Corrine has been lovely. I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to be able to sleep through the night and not worry that I’ll wake up to find your father standing over my bed.”

Matt grunted. “Dad is persistent, if nothing else.”

“Persistent is not the word I would have used.”

“He loves you, Mom.”

“Stay out of it, Matthew.”

At that exact moment, he had a brilliant idea. “I wonder. Could you do me a favor?”

His mother frowned slightly at the sudden shift in the conversation. But she’d always been the kind of mom who was happy to help out. “Of course. What?”

He tipped his head in the direction Kira had gone. “I hate to drag her away from that, now that I’ve let her start it. But I just realized I need to run back to the office…”

She looked doubtful. “The office?”

“I’ll be an hour or so. Maybe a little longer if I need to do some…research.”

“Research? On what?”

“Long story. Mom, I swear I’ll be back by noon, in time to give Kira lunch and get her off to her ballet lesson—I mean, if you have an hour or two you can spare me…”

“Well, I—”

“Thanks.” He grabbed her in a hug. “You’re a lifesaver. I won’t be long, I promise.” He got his coat from the closet and grabbed his keys from the entry table.

“Matthew…”

“Thanks. I owe you.” He closed the door before she could ask him any more questions, thinking how he’d just added lying to his mother to his list of crappy behaviors lately.

Too bad. He’d seen his chance to get Corrie alone and he was damn well taking it.

Since it was Saturday, traffic was light. The drive to her house took fifteen minutes.

He was on her porch with the key to her front door in his hand, ready to let himself in, when he caught himself. It just wasn’t right and he knew it. To bust in on her. She’d given him her key in case of emergency, not so he could break in and force her to talk to him. He’d probably scare ten years off her life, sneaking into her house when she wasn’t expecting him.

Was she still sleeping? Now, that would be truly creepy of him, appearing in her bedroom, waking her up from a sound asleep. Echoes of dear old dad.

No wonder his mom had fled to Corrie’s house, where Davis didn’t have a key—and yes, okay. He was willing to go pretty low to get Corrie talking to him again. But not that low.

Matt pocketed the key and rang the bell—twice. The second time, he saw the blinds move at the front window and knew she’d spotted him. He was out of luck. Again.

But then, incredibly, he heard the deadbolt turn and there she was in a fuzzy yellow robe and slippers to match. She had last night’s makeup smudged around her eyes and serious bed head. She did not look happy, but she did step aside so he could enter.

She shut the door and raked her hair back off her face. “What did you tell your mom?”

“That I needed to pick something up at the office.”

“Liar.”

He confessed all. “I said it might take a while, that there could be research.”

“Research?”

“That was her response, exactly.”

She glared at him. “I haven’t returned your calls because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I know.”

She wrapped her robe tighter, retied the sash. “I guess I can’t go on not talking to you forever.”

“I’m so damned relieved to hear you say that.”

“So. Want some coffee?”

“I do. I really do.”

She led him into her warm, comfortable kitchen and gestured in the general direction of the table. He sat down and she loaded up the coffeemaker. Neither of them spoke till the coffee was made.