The Real Thing Read online

  When plates were empty, Charlotte said, “I think it’s time for Mother to open her gifts.”

  “I’ll get them.” Mitch pushed his chair back and strode across the room. He stacked the wrapped boxes and carried them back to the table. “Here you are, Grandma. Looks like a lot of people love you.”

  “Thank you, Mitchell. Give me that one first.” She pointed to the package Mitch had brought.

  Jane leaned forward with interest, curious to see what was inside. Mitch had always left the gift buying to her, claiming he wouldn’t know what to buy. Or had she said that and he simply agreed.

  Mitch helped his grandmother work the ribbon from the package and tear off the paper. He lifted the lid and Louise’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s lovely. My favorite color, too.”

  Jane strained to see what was inside, but Louise managed to loop a bent finger under the fabric and lift out part of a nightgown and robe set in soft lavender. “Thank you, Mitchell. Jane. You, too, Robbie. I wish Kristi could have been here.”

  “She…” Jane began.

  “She sends her love,” Mitch said. “Here, Grandma. Open this one.” He set another package in front of Louise.

  When the last of the gifts had been opened, Louise thanked them all. “David, I hope Stephanie feels better.”

  “I’m sure she will, Grandma. And she’ll be here later in the week with a special lunch for the two of you.”

  Jane bent down to say goodbye to Louise. “I’ll come by for a visit, too.”

  Louise stared at her. “I hope so. We have something to talk about.” She shifted her gaze to Mitch, then back to Jane. “Don’t we?”

  “Uh…I…. I’ll see you soon.” Jane grabbed up her purse and hurried to her car. Louise didn’t miss a thing, never had. If she’d picked up on the tension between Jane and Mitch, had others noticed? What about Charlotte? God, if her mother-in-law heard that Mitch had spent the night in his SUV in a parking lot, she’d never let Jane hear the end of it. It would, of course, be Jane’s fault. Mother Devereaux’s sons were never in the wrong.

  Her hand trembled as she started the car and headed home. She thought of stopping to see Stephanie, but didn’t want to chance running into Mitch again. She kept her eye on the speedometer as she turned the corner and drove the stretch past the grocery store. Sure enough, the police car was parked in the lot, tucked beside the Dumpster out of view. Waiting to pounce. She thought of waving on the way past, but he’d probably ticket her for driving with one hand.

  It dismayed her to think that Mitch had slept in his car in the parking lot rather than simply pick up his pillow and go to their spare room. Did he hate her that much? A horn blared and she realized she’d drifted into the other lane. As she turned onto her street, blue lights once again flashed behind her.

  Jane groaned and pulled to the curb. The police officer stood at her window, shaking his head.

  She reached into her purse and passed him her license and vehicle registration.

  “This is becoming a habit, Mrs. Devereaux.”

  Jane squinted at his identification. “Officer Blakely.”

  “Are you always in a hurry and distracted when you drive?”

  “Hardly ever. It’s been a bad day—or two.”

  He handed her license and registration back to her. “Where are you headed?”

  “Home, where I plan to stay.”

  “Good idea. I’m just giving you a warning on this one. Be careful.”

  “Thank you. I will.” Jane glanced in her rearview mirror to see that Officer Blakely was following her home. She pulled into the drive. He flashed his lights and drove on.

  Inside, she slipped off the heels that were torturing her feet and padded up the stairs. She shed Janelle DuMonde and pulled on a pair of jeans and an oversized tee shirt. She was in the midst of giving Steph a piece of her mind for being smart enough to get out of going to the party when Rob stomped through the front door and stood, staring at her.

  “Hold on, Steph.” She stared back at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you forget something?”

  “I don’t think so. What?”

  “Me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You left me at the nursing home.”

  She lifted the phone. “I’ll call you back.” Unfolding from where she sat on the sofa, she said, “I did not forget you or leave you. You were with your father.”

  “Who doesn’t live here anymore. And neither of you wants to tell me why.” He took the steps two at a time and slammed his bedroom door.

  Jane closed her eyes and took in a breath before she followed. At his bedroom door, she knocked. “Rob? Robbie, let me in.”

  “It’s not locked.”

  She found her son sitting on his bed, long legs drawn up, thumbs moving rapidly as he texted someone. Jane sat on the edge of the bed. What was she going to tell him? She could hardly tell him the truth about what precipitated his father’s departure. “Your father and I don’t always agree on…some things. Sometimes grownups need a little space from one another to reset, get things clear.”

  “Mom, don’t talk to me like I’m six years old. I’m an adult, too.”

  She looked at him, his strong, square jaw so much like his father’s, a hint of a mustache on his upper lip, dark eyes that blazed with anger disguising fear. He was still her little boy, frightened by something he didn’t understand. She placed a hand on his bent knee. “Honey, your father and I just need a little breathing room right now. We’ll work things out. We’ll talk. I promise.”

  “I don’t get it. You and Dad always told me and Kristi the best way to handle a problem was to be honest and address it head on. And you always said that you never walk away from someone leaving anger between you.”

  “I know. Your Dad and I aren’t angry. We’re just…just….” She stood and paced. “Honestly, I don’t know what we are. I’m not telling you this to scare you. I love your father very much, and I know he loves me. And you and Kristi mean everything to both of us. Can you trust us to work this out? There are some things parents do not and should not discuss with their children. This is one of those things.”

  He sat for a moment, staring down at his shoes. The shoes he was not supposed to have on the bed. “Mark’s dad went away for three weeks on ‘business’ and, when he came home, he moved out for good and now Mark’s parents are divorced. They don’t even talk to each other. Heck, Mom, every other kid in school only has one parent, except for the ones who have two moms or two dads.”

  Jane shouldn’t have been shocked by this, but his words sent a jolt through her. What if Mitch didn’t come back? What if he decided he liked being single again and asked for a divorce? Her throat tightened and she blinked, turning away so her son wouldn’t notice. “Your dad and I aren’t there yet.”

  “Yet?” His voice cracked on the word.

  “Poor choice of words. Sometimes adults don’t know how to solve a problem, so they have to take a step back to figure it out. That’s all this is, honey, a step back.” She sat down again. “Remember when you and Mark were in eighth grade and you had that fight because you made the junior varsity basketball team and he didn’t? And you two stopped speaking to each other for weeks?”

  He nodded.

  “And then it was over. You two got past that and you’re best friends again.”

  “Is this because of your career?”

  “What? No.”

  “Because everything started to change after they made your book into that TV movie and then you started writing more books and traveling everywhere to do signings and TV shows.”

  “It’s my job. Just like it’s your dad’s job when he has to go away for business.”

  “It’s more than that. You’re not the same now.”

  “Not the same—how?”

  “I don’t know. You talk different. You spend hours locked in your office at the computer, more hours than Dad puts in at work. You don’t come to games any more �
�cause you’re having events.”

  He lifted his face and Jane saw the glisten in his brown eyes. Her eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right about the games. I should have been there on Friday. When’s your next game?”

  His lip slid forward the way it used to when he pouted. This man child with a bare dusting of fuzz on his upper lip, yet looking so much like her little boy made her heart ache. “There isn’t another game, Mom. That was the last game of the season. Which we lost, by the way. So there isn’t another one.” His voice cracked slightly and she saw him swallow hard. She wasn’t so sure they were talking about football anymore.

  The words came at her like a slap. What she heard was, “It’s too late. You’re a bad mother. You failed and I’ll never forgive you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She stood and let her fingertips trail across his broad shoulder and then brushing back his hair. “How about if I order pizza for supper?”

  He stared up at her, his eyes hard and cold. “Seriously? That’ll make it all better?”

  She sighed and walked to the door. “It will get better.” She closed the door and leaned against it. Would it get better? What if Rob was right? What if this was the beginning of the end for her and Mitch?

  Chapter Six

  Mitch pulled into his reserved parking spot and yawned. He sat for a moment, wondering if he looked as worn out as he felt. The sleeper sofa in his brother’s family room was not fit for a six foot two, one hundred eighty pound man. Jane had lectured him a few weeks ago about being ten pounds overweight for his height. Just one more thing about him that she’d found unacceptable. What was wrong with a man having a few extra pounds on him? He’d earned them, mostly eating take-out because Jane was either too busy to cook or off to a book signing. If he was overweight and looked exhausted, it was all her fault.

  He got out of the SUV, slammed the door shut and strode into the building.

  Gail Hampton looked up from the reception desk with a broad smile. “Good morning, Mitch.”

  “Morning.”

  She furrowed her eyebrows. “You feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. Have you slept at all?”

  “I’m fine. Hold any calls. I have to get ready for a nine o’clock meeting.” He closed his office door behind him and let out a breath.

  He had just begun to focus on the report for his meeting when Gail tapped on the door, then slipped inside. “Excuse me, Mitch. I thought you could use a cup of coffee.” She set a steaming cup of brew in front of him.

  “Thank you.” He did need the coffee.

  She bent forward, staring at him, her bought-and-paid-for breasts threatening to spill from her low-cut blouse.

  Mitch shifted his gaze, focusing on the phone on the corner of his desk. “Is there something else?”

  “You tell me. You look exhausted. Did you and Jane have a fight? You poor man, let me help.” She moved behind him. Fingers massaged the base of his neck.

  Mitch startled. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you to relax. God, your neck is like steel.” She leaned down and her breath caressed his ear. “What has you so tense?”

  Her massage was loosening his neck, but causing a distinct tightening in other areas. Mitch turned, breaking her hold. When he looked up, her impressive chest met his gaze from a different perspective. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for the coffee. I think it would be best if you returned to your desk.”

  She tried to look hurt, but a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Just know that I’m here if you need—anything.”

  He stared at the pronounced sway of hips and ass as she took her time crossing the room. Once the door closed behind her, Mitch sat back in his chair and let out a breath. Gail had made it clear on several occasions that she was interested in him, with no regard for the fact he was married. He usually avoided being alone with her or managed to laugh off her advances. But the woman had keen radar and, without a doubt, read trouble in his face. She would be a like a shark on the scent of fresh blood if she knew he had left Jane.

  Had he left Jane? The word felt weighted and made his mouth go dry. They’d argued many times, the way most couples married for twenty years surely had argued. But neither of them had ever left before. Mitch began to perspire and acid burned his stomach. Maybe he’d over-reacted, his actions too hasty.

  Then he remembered the tension between them at the birthday party the previous afternoon. Jane actually had the nerve to hint that everything was his fault. She didn’t appreciate him for who he was. She only needed him to play out Janelle DuMonde’s fictional fantasies. Well, maybe he had fantasies, too. And maybe he would find someone to help him play those out for himself. Two could play at that game.

  “Mitch, they’re ready for you in the conference room,” Gail purred through the intercom.

  How the hell did the woman manage to make a simple announcement sound like an invitation to undress?

  “I’ll be right there.” He choked down the now-cold coffee and pick up his files. He wasn’t ready for this meeting and prayed he could pull it off. Losing this contract would be disastrous and jeopardize his already tenuous position with the firm. There had been talk of senior employees being asked to take early retirement to make way for younger folks with new ideas and more energy. When had he become a senior employee?

  Mitch plastered on his game face and sauntered into the conference room with false bravado. “Good morning.”

  His presentation was stuttering and unfocused. The tight expression on Liam Kennedy’s face told him to either get it together or wrap things up fast. “I think that about covers all the bases. Any questions?”

  The client frowned before looking at Liam. “Is that the whole pitch?”

  Liam directed his frown to Mitch. “This was just a rough draft of Mitch’s ideas for your ad campaign, right Mitch? We wanted to run them by you before putting together the whole package. Save you time and money.”

  Shuffling his notes, Mitch felt heat spread up his neck. Beads of perspiration dampened his forehead. “Uh, yes. Rough. Just testing out the ideas.”

  Liam was on his feet like a cat in one fluid motion. “Mr. Francis, thank you for coming.” He rounded the table and ushered the man toward the door. “We’ll have the campaign ideas firmed up by the end of the week. How about a dinner meeting on Thursday?”

  “Make it Friday.” The man scowled back at Mitch. “And don’t make it another waste of my time.”

  Liam returned to the conference room. He glared at Mitch. “What the hell was that?”

  “I’m sorry, Liam. I’m having an off day.”

  “Off? You call that off? That was bullshit.” Liam took a bottle of water from the small fridge and sat across from Mitch. “I’m worried about you, Mitch. You seem to be struggling lately. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I’m just in a slump.”

  “A slump in the advertising business can kill a career. You’ve got to pull it together by Friday, give Francis something impressive. Or do I need to handle this one?”

  All Mitch heard was Jane telling him he was not performing in the way she wanted. Fear slid away, replaced by indignation. Mitch had been in the advertising business longer than Liam Kennedy had been in long pants. “Don’t tell me how to do my job, Liam. Your uncle knows what I can do.”

  The younger man sucked down the bottle of water, staring at him coolly. “Seems like someone has to give you a nudge and, for the record, my uncle could give a shit about this firm any longer. I guess you didn’t hear the news.”

  Maybe it was the tone or perhaps the smug look on Kennedy’s face, but Mitch suddenly found it difficult to draw in air. “What—news?”

  “My uncle is retiring. This time next month, I’ll be in charge.” He stood and tossed the plastic bottle into the recycling bin. “You’ve got until Friday to prove to me it’s worth keeping you.”

  Mitch sat alone at the large conference table, listening t
o the hiss of the refrigerator. Prove to me it’s worth keeping you. One more command. One more person demanding he produce the way they wanted him to. How the hell had his life gone so wrong? First his marriage and, now, his career. He couldn’t breathe. A current ran through his body, numbing his hands. Why was it so damned hot in the room? He loosened his tie and gasped for air. There was none. Then everything faded to black.

  “Mitch?”

  From somewhere in the fog, a soft, feminine voice called to him. Janie? He forced his eyes to open. He felt weighted down, his limbs heavy, as if he’d been drugged.

  “Mitch, can you hear me?”

  “What happened?” He blinked and focused.

  Gail bent over him, fingers stroking his forehead. “Shhh, don’t try to talk. Oh, thank God you woke up. I though you were….”

  His eyes flew open. “Where am I?”

  “The hospital. You passed out. We thought you’d had a heart attack, but the doctor said it’s just stress.” She stroked his face. “You have got to loosen up and learn to relax.”

  “Ah, you’re awake, I see.” A white-coated man loomed at the foot of the bed.

  “Who are you?”

  “Doctor Seligman. You gave your wife here quite a scare.”

  “My wife?”

  The doctor nodded toward Gail. “You don’t recognize her?” His voice held concern.

  Mitch shifted his head to avoid Gail’s hand. “This isn’t my wife. She’s my receptionist.”

  “Oh, I see.” Motioning to Gail, the doctor said, “Miss, I’m afraid you have to leave. Family only right now.”

  “But he has no one here and I….”

  Dave burst into the cubicle. “He has family right here. You can wait outside.” His brother pushed past Gail and stared down at him. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I had a meeting. Then it got hot in the room and I couldn’t breathe. Then I woke up here.”