Everything to Lose

“I don’t know … The school alone is close to fifty grand. I’m so behind on the tuition plan they’re starting to give me calls. There’s still the mortgage and the taxes … Look, I see you have a new family and I’m happy for you. I am. But I have my family. And you’re his father, Jim. I’m going to do whatever I can to do what’s best for my son. Your son … Whatever that is.”

His gaze grew a little harder. “Just what do you mean by that, Hilary …?”

“I don’t know what I mean. I’m just asking you, please, don’t make me beg.”

We were kind of face-to-face, the tears cleared, my desperation out on the table. All of a sudden I could see what was turning through his mind. What must have been from the moment I called, because what other reason could there have been for me to ask to come over?

He’d have to go to Janice. He probably didn’t have a dime apart from her anymore.

He probably didn’t even own the Porsche parked in front of the house.

“Look. He cleared his throat. “Things aren’t exactly rosy around here either.”

“What does that mean, Jim?”

He shrugged. “Janice had to take a job. She’s gotten her real estate license. At Pepper Loughlin’s place. You know, it’s on the avenue, where that stationery place used to be …”

I stared blankly.

“In fact, the whole damn house is up for sale. Trust me, her divorce settlement is just about enough to keep the kids in school and take care of our nut. Even the furniture’s up for sale.” He nodded to Fu Manchu. “Distant cousin on the wall included. And the fancy table out front, what’s it called, Biedemeister, or meier? I never know. That as well.”

“Jim, you’re on your way out to Vail.”

“Kind of like our last hurrah.” He snorted. “I mean, you can’t let the kids think things are bad. Not in this town anyway. You know what I mean. I’m tapped out, Hilary. The well is totally dry. Trust me, that Porsche won’t even be in the driveway when we come back.”

I felt a weight crashing through my chest. An elevator falling. The thought snaked through me that if I stayed here even a minute longer, everything would come crashing down and I’d start to cry. “All I’m asking for is what you owe me. Don’t you even care about your son? Can’t you—”

Suddenly the boys ran in. Lucas and Trey, Christopher Alexander III. Like marauding outlaws in The Wild Bunch riding through a Mexican town, except with Brunswick crests on their dress shirts. “Trey won’t give me the Xbox stick,” Luke, who was ten, whined. “And he called me a douche. Didn’t you, Trey?”

“No, I didn’t! He’s lying!” Trey said defiantly, with a glare that read, When we get back upstairs, you’re dead, you traitor.

“You know Hilary,” Jim said, catching Luke by the arm. “Brandon’s mom.”

“Hi,” Trey said, barely shifting his glare from his brother. “Douche bag,” he mouthed silently.

“Hi,” said Luke, not even looking at me, just sticking his tongue out at his brother while in Jim’s hulking grasp.

“Hi, guys,” I said. “You’re both getting so big …” All I could think of under the circumstances. I couldn’t believe I came up with something so lame.

“I’m sorry, Hil.” Jim shrugged, his expression hapless. “I hear things are starting to pick up in some places. Maybe I can start up again next year.”

“Sure,” I said, standing up, trying to hold it together. “Next year.”

“Hey, dudes.” Jim cackled. “Homework done? Time for one last game of Madden?”

“Yay!” the two shouted as one.

“C’mon, Jim, I’ll take you both on. You and douchie here …”

Jim stood up too, carrying Luke like a sack of wheat with those ham-hocklike arms. “I’m really sorry about the job, Hil. How about I’ll be in touch when we get back. Okay?”

“Don’t worry about it. I can see you’ve got your hands full. Something will come up. Always does, right?”

I picked up my bag and made my way to the door.

“Hey, Hil …”

I turned, praying inside he’d had some change of heart and come to his senses; some realization of what he was putting me through.

Jim winked, holding Luke upside down. “You’re looking good, Hil. You really are.”

I knew if I didn’t get out of there now, I was going to cry.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_8408d2c7-7662-556d-9bfb-8ddc0358be4c)

Back in my car, any semblance of control completely broke down. Tears filled my eyes even before I put the key in the ignition. I could take the whole new family thing—Jim playing überdad—even though it did eat at me where the hell he’d been for the last four years with Brandon. I could even take the spanking-new Porsche, which alone would have paid a couple of years of tuition.

What I couldn’t take was that he’d basically just washed his hands of us. When he could see I was falling. How could you just look at me and say that, Jim? I put my head against the wheel and shut my eyes. About your own son?

It was clearly all on my shoulders now.

I started the car and it took everything I had not to ram it headfirst into Jim’s Porsche and leave it a mound of crumpled steel. I backed out of the driveway and almost made a U-turn a block away, then regretted that I hadn’t.

You could sue his ass, Hil, I said to myself as I drove. There were deadbeat laws. No judge in the world would side with him. But I knew Jim’s assets in his own name might even be less than mine. He was probably down to his ski jacket and a pair of Cole Haans.

And that would all take time. And lawyer’s fees. Money I didn’t exactly have right now. Even if there was something left to take. Whatever was left was surely now in Janice’s name.

What I had to do was figure out how to get through the next two months.

I put the radio on, 1010 WINS news. A Pakistani minister had been blown up in a suicide attack. Residents of Staten Island were still angry over delays in storm relief. Something about a Connecticut politician whose wife had tragically drowned on a family vacation in South America. I winced, suddenly aware of my own blessings. Whatever I was going through, at least Brandon was healthy and alive.

It was 7:36. I’d promised Elena I’d be back by eight. Two things were going around in me.

First, that I would do anything for my son. Anything. Whatever it took.

Any mother would.

And the other, my mind drifting to the satchel in the woods, was that I’d already made enough bad choices that had put me in this situation.

So what was one more?

Which was basically what I was dwelling on when I realized I’d already driven past the highway and was headed back toward the accident site.

As I got near, the road narrowed to a single lane, yellow police tape now marking off the site. Three county police cars and a tow truck were there, all kinds of lights flashing.

I slowed. I couldn’t see if the Honda had been removed. It seemed that it hadn’t. I figured there had to be all kinds of people getting things together down there. With everyone traipsing around, who knew if the satchel hadn’t already been discovered?

Who knew if now they were looking for the person who had flung it there?