“I believe that, sir.”
Roger nodded. “Back to you. You went after her last night. Is she okay?”
He obviously hadn’t heard anything personal from Carly. The thought saddened Mike. And something in Roger’s tone caught Mike’s attention. Called to him, in fact. He’d bet the question hadn’t been an easy one for the older man to ask.
“As well as can be expected,” Mike said. “She’s hurt. Feels betrayed.” He shook his head.
“She’s known too much of that.”
“I wouldn’t know, sir.” Mike thought the older man deserved to know that Carly had kept family secrets buried.
Her father walked over to a group of framed photos on his desk. Picking up one in a small silver frame, he frowned. “Too damn much,” he muttered.
Mike didn’t know what else to say. Asking for an explanation felt like prying. Although he now realized the person who hadn’t put Carly’s needs first was her father.
“May I?” Mike reached out a hand.
Roger nodded. Enclosed in the small frame was a family photo of a younger Carly and her parents. Mike placed her age somewhere in her early teens.
Since he hadn’t come from a typical family unit, family dynamics was unfamiliar terrain. But his years as a photographer had taught him to judge a picture by the body language of the subjects. Against the backdrop of a beach house and the ocean behind it, Roger stood, his hands at his sides. His wife leaned away from him, one hand around his waist, the other on her daughter’s shoulder. Carly smiled for the camera, but her expressive eyes betrayed an inner unhappiness. This photo displayed the family Mike had seen at dinner the other night. Had things once been different?
“Nice,” he said, handing the picture back to the older man.
Roger shook his head. “Some things in life you can’t undo,” he murmured, obviously caught in another time. He cleared his throat. “Well. You said you need a place to stay in the Hamptons.”
Bingo. “Yes. I figured you’re familiar with the area. Hotel, motel, whatever. Nothing fancy.”
In silence, Roger studied him through narrowed eyes. Finally he spoke. “Okay.” He walked over to his desk, pulled a sheet of paper from a Lucite tray before grabbing a pen and beginning to scribble. “Here’s a list of decently priced hotels and motels near the beach.”
Grateful, Mike reached across the desk and accepted the paper, fingering it between his thumb and forefinger. “I appreciate it.”
“Good. There’s something you can do for me in return.”
“Name it.”
“Don’t hurt my daughter.” Rounding the corner of the desk, Roger eased himself into his chair.
Uneasy, Mike shifted his stance. “We’re friends and I think she could use one right about now.” Mike didn’t want the older man misinterpreting his long-term intentions toward Carly. He was only around to help her through a rough patch in her life, not to be a part of it later on. His gut twisted painfully.
“I think you’re right. And she won’t take comfort from me or her mother. I’m glad someone else cares enough to give it to her.”
After he and Roger talked a little longer and the older man had given him additional beach information, Mike rose from his seat. He shook Roger’s hand and walked into the hall.
He paused, debating the merits of speaking with his brother. His own anger hadn’t yet subsided. Any discussion would only widen the rift between them. He’d deal with Pete before he left the States, but not now.
As he headed for the bank of elevators, the burden of Roger’s words weighed heavily. The older man trusted him despite the actions of his brother. He trusted him with his only daughter.
But Mike couldn’t live up to that trust. Not completely. Because though Mike wanted to be with Carly, to help her through the rough times, he knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t be there for the long haul.
SEVEN
Carly let herself in to the meticulously clean beach house. Nothing had changed since her parents first bought the place over ten years ago. The white cabinets and Wedgwood blue trim gave the illusion of a cheerful home. Growing up, knowing the farce her parents lived, Carly had found this room depressing.
Not so today. The house hadn’t changed. Had she? Since the purpose of this vacation was self-discovery, she was about to find out. She’d taken care of ending her engagement, returning gifts and notifying friends and family before arriving, enabling her to come with an upbeat attitude. The airy kitchen, skylights and bright decor genuinely pleased her. The ringing of the phone brought her out of her musings.
Her mother’s voice greeted her. “I just wanted to make sure you got there okay.”
“I’m fine, Mom. I just walked in a little while ago.”
The phone call shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. A while had passed since she’d turned to her mother for anything. Only now did Carly realize that her mother hadn’t stopped trying. Carly had stopped accepting anything from Anne. Another thing she’d have to try and resolve on this solitary trip.
“I’m sure. I’m fine. Yes, he offered to pay for all the wedding expenses, but I broke things off and I want to cover my share.” She and Peter had conversed via answering machine and somehow managed to undo all the arrangements.
As her mother spoke, Carly got yet another glimpse into Anne Wexler’s way of dealing with life: grin and bear it. “Yes, I know people are talking at Dad’s office. I assumed they would. Gossip’s gossip. But I really don’t care and you shouldn’t either. Would you prefer I’d have gone through with it and been miserable for the rest of my life?” Like you?
“I’m sorry, Mom. Really. Can we just drop the whole thing? I appreciate you checking on me and I’ll call you in a few days.”
The doorbell rang. “Got to run. Talk to you soon. ‘Bye.”
Only after she’d hung up did Carly realize that her head had begun to pound. “Be right there,” she called toward the front door.
She grabbed for two aspirin in her bag and a glass of water before answering the door. Just because her mother had opted to continue in her marriage didn’t mean Carly wanted to deal with things the same way. Her entire life she’d walked a fine line, fearful of repeating both of her parents’ mistakes— her father’s search for more love and passion and her mother’s blasé acceptance of all obstacles thrown in her way. Because her father’s errors were so much more damaging, she’d unbelievably come within weeks of turning into a replica of her mother.