Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(98)

In front of him, the SUV’s passenger door swung open, and a thin brunette climbed out.

“Hello, Liam,” Ellen said.

Startled, he froze, shoes in the flowerbed, and saw amusement flicker across her face. “Ellen,” he said. He turned to jump over the bushes into his mother’s driveway.

“I hear you’ve adopted little Beverly,” Ellen called after him. “Interesting strategy. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Gail strode over and ushered Kate into the car. “She hasn’t been with him. We’re going to find her now.”

“No, I am.” Liam pulled out his keys. “I promise I’ll call—”

“What’s the hurry?” Ellen tugged the lapels of her jacket closer to her chin. “Let’s see the house so I can send pictures to Johnny.”

“What do you mean, what’s the hurry?” Gail said, her voice rising to a squeak. “Kate was sure she was with Liam, enjoying herself for once, but instead—” She bit her lip and looked past the house at the San Francisco skyline.

Camera in hand, Ellen took off the lens cap and aimed past them to the sunset over the Golden Gate. “That view will get them,” she said. “But I’ll have to do the interior shots tomorrow. It’s too dark now.”

Gail spun around to face her sister. “We are having a crisis here!”

Liam opened the door to his car. “Don’t worry. What’s your number, Gail? I’ll call as soon as I find her.”

She frowned at him. “You seem to know where she is.”

“Of course he does,” Ellen said. “He’s not an idiot.”

“Are you calling me an idiot?” Gail demanded.

“Just use your brain. Where did Daddy hide out when he wanted to get away?”

Gail put a hand on her forehead. “You think she’s at Fite?”

Ellen aimed the camera at the house and clicked this way and that. “Duh.”

“You can stop taking pictures, you heartless bitch,” Gail said. “There is no way in hell I’m giving my house to any child of yours.”

As eager as Liam was to find Bev, he found himself unwilling to leave just yet.

Ellen turned away and took another picture. “Such a drama queen.”

Hands balled into fists, Gail swung around, headed for her car. “Too bad the locks were changed or you might be able to go inside.” She got in, slammed the door, and kicked the engine into reverse.

Ellen looked over her shoulder. “Damn it!” She shoved the camera in her pocket. “Don’t you dare—!” Arms waving, she ran down the driveway after the departing car. Gail screeched out into the road, blasting the horn, and was gone.

Realizing he shouldn’t have lingered, Liam hopped inside his own car and started the engine. But Ellen, now stranded, stood at the end of his mother’s driveway staring at him through the rearview mirror.

She didn’t move until he gave up, leaned over, and pushed open the passenger door for her to join him.



Liam would have been proud of her.

She could have had Richard fire Rachel and spare herself the discomfort; instead, the new, tough, managerial Bev had arranged a private confrontation, determined to see it through.

Big mistake.

“Why is so hard to admit you loved him?” Bev said. “Lots of people did.”

“Not like me,” Rachel said.

Bev studied her face under the copper-colored bob, healthy and young and miserable. “How long—when did—”

“What?”

“Were you together a long time?”

“You think—” she shook her head, shuddering with disgust. “That was the worst part about keeping it a secret. People are so sick.”

Bev stared at her, feeling stupid. Then, finally, she understood. “You’re related to him. To us.”

Rachel snorted. “You are such a genius.”

It was all there—the bitterness, the intelligence, even the shape of her upper lip. Bev held up her glass for another toast. “So, we’re what—cousins?”

“No!” Rachel shook her head. “He was my father.”

For a second Bev imagined her slicing her hand off and throwing her into the bowels of the Death Star. “An aunt. I should have seen the resemblance.”

“We are nothing alike,” Rachel said. “You’ve been nothing but bubbles and sunshine since you got here, and I can’t stand it. Cookies, smiles, puke.”

“I meant your resemblance to Ellen. It’s uncanny. Well, all right, what do you want? Or, actually, what do you think you want? What did you think would happen? The company runs out of money, I leave, and . . . ? You step in?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did you plan on doing that? Waving your birth certificate?”

“I have something better—cold, hard cash.”

“Ah,” Bev said. “He gave you money.”

“You bet he did.”

“You’re rich, but you resent me for getting the company?”

“He loved me!”

“Be grateful for that. He barely knew my name.”

“I know! I could have killed you!”

Bev shuddered, looked down at her grandfather’s smiling face under Rachel’s hand. “You can see how much he cared about you right there in the picture.”