The Perfect Marriage(52)
“Apologies for not bringing a gift,” James said with a grin, the way 007 might have if this were actually a James Bond movie.
“You know, we’ve docked in many places over the years, and this is the first time anyone has ever swum up to us and asked to come aboard,” their host said.
He was James’s age and dressed as if he was expecting guests, in white linen from head to toe. His accent was American.
“Is this your boat?” Haley asked.
“I wish, but I’m a guest aboard her.” He extended his hand. “Reid Warwick, at your service.”
As soon as the image of Reid on that Caribbean day left her head, she spotted the real thing sitting a few rows behind her at the funeral. Except for the fact that he was wearing black, he hadn’t changed a bit since their first meeting.
He smiled at her, that wolfish grin that was quintessential Reid. Like he saw you as prey, almost.
When Reid caught Haley’s eye, it seemed to him that she might truly be in mourning. The thought struck Reid as odd, especially after she’d shared with him some of her revenge fantasies, twisted tales of torturing James usually involving some harm to his manhood. He considered the things he could tell the cops about Haley, if he was so inclined, and what Haley might offer him to not be so inclined.
His mind turned from sex to money—his two most common thoughts, after all. In this case, from one beautiful woman (Haley) to another (Allison).
He had told Allison not to come today. “It’ll just raise a bunch of questions about who you are and what connection you have to James,” he’d said. “Send flowers or make a donation in his name with some charity. Better still, if you really want to pay your respects, let’s close this deal with the three remaining Pollocks so I can get some money to his family.”
Reid desperately needed Allison to make this deal happen. Without it, his cash flow difficulties would become far more serious in a hurry. In fact, even in the church, he couldn’t stop surveying the crowd to make sure that no one was here for him, rather than James.
All that looking over his shoulder would stop the moment he sold the last three Pollocks. Despite what he’d told Jessica about how the money was being split, the truth of the matter was that, with James now out of the picture, Reid’s take would be nearly a million dollars. Enough to keep the sharks at bay for a while.
He spied Owen in the front row, beside his mother. Poor kid. Despite what Reid had said to Jessica and to Allison, there was no way that he was going to share a nickel of his take with anyone.
Midway through the service, it occurred to Owen that, for all his preoccupation with his own death, this was the first funeral he had ever attended.
He couldn’t help but wonder what his own would look like in comparison. How many kids from school would show up? Would Mr. Taubenslag have the orchestra perform something? A requiem, perhaps? Would any of the girls cry?
His daydreaming ended when the minister called his name. “On behalf of the Sommers family, James’s stepson, Owen Fiske, would like to say a few words.”
His mother kissed him on the cheek, and he made his way to the podium. Once there, he looked out on the crowd and swallowed hard.
“Thank you all for coming here today,” he said, his voice sounding squeaky even to him. “I don’t like public speaking, so I’m not going to be up here very long, which I hope is okay.” The sea of faces before him seemed to be trying hard to smile. “I just wanted to say that James was my stepfather. And I don’t think I’m saying anything too controversial when I say that it’s tough being the stepfather of a sixteen-year-old, which was how old I was when I met James. I think my dad would say it’s tough being a father to a sixteen-year-old, period. But a stepfather? That’s got to be even harder because James didn’t know me at all. The only thing we had in common, really, is that we both loved my mom. And I kind of thought that James would leave me alone, and I wouldn’t talk to him much, and that would be our relationship. But it wasn’t that way. He actually wanted to get to know me. To be a part of my life. And I thought that was cool.”
Owen lifted his eyes from the paper containing his remarks. His mother was smiling at him. He looked back to his prepared speech.
“Some of you may know that I have a type of leukemia. I got it before my mom met James. The doctors thought I was cured, but I wasn’t. It came back, which is why I stand before you today bald once again. I’m going to have this transplant thing, and hopefully that will cure me.”
The smiles he had seen only moments ago were now all gone. Only a kid with cancer could make a funeral sadder.
“I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me, though. I’m telling you because James was there for me. One hundred percent. I’m not going to bore you with a rant about how expensive medical care is, or that treatments like mine aren’t covered by insurance. But James . . . he saved my life. There’s no other way to put it. He saved my life. So I guess that’s another thing we had in common. Not just our love for Mom. But . . . my whole life.”
After the service ended and James had been interred in his final resting place, Jessica saw Haley walking toward her. She’d noticed Haley in the church and wondered about the etiquette of her attending. Then again, Jessica would attend Wayne’s funeral, so maybe it wasn’t so odd after all.