In the Land of Milk and Honey Read online

  ~o~

  Hours later, I broke from my distributor rep meeting and checked my phone for messages. Violet had flooded my inbox.

  V: How’s your glum level today, Bree?

  V: I’m happy to take one for the team and go next.

  V: Don’t be stingy, Bree, you owe me.

  V: I loaned you my Reeboks in the third grade, remember?

  V: They were fresh, and you got scuff marks on them.

  V: Just tell him it’s the Valentine Family relay race, and it’s your turn to pass the baton.

  V: His baton.

  V: I’ll show him where to pass it.

  V: That’s the spot.

  V: Stop ignoring me, Bree. Cheer up.

  Violet’s sense of humor was not helping today. I knew I’d regret my admission because she was going to have a field day with this. The taste had already become sour in my mouth. I went to the next message. The next was Ian.

  I: Breezy-Breezy, fo feezy, fi fi, no sneezey, Breezy!

  I: Jilly-Jilly, fo filly, fee fi fo filly, snugglin’ gettin so sill-y, Jilly!

  I laughed. Ian must in a very good mood because the only time he types us little rhymes is when he’s sitting in meetings and he’s too excited to pay attention. And then I braced myself before opening August’s.

  A: Hi, Bree. Checking in to see if you had some time to talk a little more since last night. Call me.

  This was a bad spot. I didn’t have any more information than what I’d already told him. I wondered if it was too late to try to convince him that Daniel and I played video games on his console for a few hours and didn’t get to talk. As I concocted preposterous alibis in my head, my phone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “What are you doing Saturday? I got those tickets you wanted to The Kiggles for you, if you’re still interested,” Jill said politely, but her voice held strain.

  “You did? That’s great! Thank you, Jill.” Tristan is going to be so excited.

  “It only took a little bribery, but hey, what are godmothers for?” she added deviously.

  “Felonies, apparently.” I snickered.

  “Speaking of felonies, how did it go with Daniel AssMuncher last night?”

  “It went fine,” I replied innocently.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” She sounded anything but, and I sighed. I knew her bitterness was rooted in what she was now calling “Calamari-gate”. Since retiring from modeling, Jill founded King Agencies, the premier agency for talent in the city. On top of that, she was a King; an American family whose last name carried some weight. That night at Del Posto one Baird trumped two Kings, and she was none too pleased.

  “So what’s his first planned outing with our little angel? Is he going to take him to a stallion auction and hit up a strip club under the Holland Tunnel?” Ian must have dished on Daniel’s reputation.

  “Nothing’s been determined yet,” I found myself replying calmly.

  “Well, I’ve made a great deal of determinations. Like: Daniel is an uppity prick who I wouldn’t put out if he ignited inside a dynamite factory.”

  “I’m in the middle of something here, Jill. I’ll have to call you back later.”I quickly hung up. Part of me wanted to revel in Jill’s anathemas, however satisfying, but I caught myself. If Tristan came to me twenty years from now and asked why he never got to know his father, and I explained it boiled down to an irresponsible night of sex and a wounded ego, would he forgive me? Would I?

  I saw myself becoming that parent who coaches their child into hating the other parent. I didn’t like that forecast. I drew a line in the sand and picked a side. Sometimes being noble just plain sucked.

  Before I could second guess myself, I was calling BarclayBaird’s corporate office, asking for Daniel.

  “One moment. I’ll transfer you now,” a woman’s quizzical voice said. I took a seat outside the conference room, tapping my toe off beat to elevator music. Then the music ended. Considering the gift of flowers, I’d assumed he’d be mildly congenial. This was not the case.

  “Ms. Valentine,” he answered tersely.

  I cleared my throat and harnessed some power. “I still have some questions. We didn’t get to hammer out the details last night.”

  “I believe we hammered out quite a few things,” he replied detached. “More than once, if you recall.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight. “I meant Tristan.”

  “It is done now.” The line filled with quiet resistance. “What would you like from me, Ms. Valentine?” he said finally. I took a breath.

  “I was thinking start slow. He has a karate tournament next week. It would be a good opening. There will be lots of people, and it would give you the opportunity to get to know the…situation,” I replied, knowing this would only work if we stayed in public places, because just hearing the tone in his voice over the phone was overwhelming. If he took the chance to observe Tristan, he could make an informed decision.

  “Send details,” he finally replied.

  “I’ll do that,” I said with a small smile, encouraged.

  “May I ask you something?” he said, capturing my silence, perhaps encouraged by it. “My CFO is joining me. Is there anything you’d like me to tell him?” I swallowed. I thought I heard August’s voice in the background. “When you arrived home, did you tell him how you screamed for me?”

  “I didn’t scream,” I defended.

  “You did. Every second.” Goosebumps pricked on my skin.

  “I need to go,” I said, no more than a whisper.

  “Do you miss me yet, Ms. Valentine?” It sounded like his lips were right on the phone. The sound of voices in the background grew. “To be continued,” he said. The line went dead.

  I let my head fall back on the chair and closed my eyes.

  A few hours later, after a distributor meeting I hadn’t absorbed one iota of, I headed to drop off orders at the office before picking up Tristan. Back at the showroom again, I was looking forward to sharing the good news with him about the Kiggles tickets. That show had been sold out for weeks—Jill must have pulled some strings.

  “Guess who stopped by for a visit!” Claire said excitedly. I stopped. Her cat-framed glasses perched high on her small arched nose, her naturally red cheeks were practically crimson. A known side effect of her watching Japanime—or coming in contact with a very attractive man. The computer screen was blank.

  “You’re kidding.” I said. “Daniel Baird. Claire, what did he want?” I threw my purse on the counter and stopped short of vaulting over it to perch on the counter beside her.

  “He asked for you and I said you weren’t here. That’s not the best part,” she said excitedly. “He had some sort of package for you! I think he wants you.” She looked up at me like I had just turned into the Pope.

  “Did he leave it?”

  “No,” she said, carrying the o. “I told him you’d be back. I’m sure he’ll stop back by. I think you’ve got him a little jealous, too. He asked about the flowers out on the curb. I told him they were from your main squeeze but that you trashed them.” I covered my face with my hands. “You should have seen the look on his face!”

  “Oh, no.” I peeked through my fingers out onto the sidewalk facing the bustling street where the plant laid rolled over on its side up against a pile of trash bags. I still didn’t want the flowers, but I didn’t mean to slight him. To his face, anyhow.

  “Oh yes! You have the upper hand now, sister. Playing hard to get is a good thing for a guy like him,” she said approvingly. “Look, do you mind if I close up early?”

  “That’s fine,” I huffed as I plopped down in a chair.

  “Cool. I’ve got to get in a little quality me time in a cold shower before Ari gets home,” she said as she shoved things in her purse.

  “Claire! At least make something up! Whatever happened to “I forgot to put out the trash” or “I need to feed my cat”?”

  “Well, I do need to feed my cat,” she repli
ed with a wink. “After Mr. SexyBritishGuy’s visit, I need the relief.”

  “Why are we so weak?” I mumbled.

  “Bree, it’s not weakness. It’s indulgence. That guy is the type you risk it all for, for the night.”

  She got me there. I had. Twice.

  Chapter 14 - Garden of Good vs. Evil

  ~o~

  “How could you think I wouldn’t have you again, Gabrielle?” he rasped out hoarsely as his sweat-slicked body covered mine where we lay on the rug. My arms were hooked under his, and I dug my nails deep into his strong shoulders.

  “You are for me. You’re mine. You always were,” he told me in a rough voice between grunts, and my body shook underneath him, my back chaffing the rug. I saw him reach down for me, and I tilted my face up to his.

  ~o~

  I rolled over in the sheets and groaned because two weeks later, I was still dreaming of Daniel.

  I hadn’t spoken with or seen Daniel since our phone exchange. August said he’d flown overseas for meetings and that Daniel was assailed with his company’s transition. We hardly saw August these days.

  I sent Daniel an email with the information for Tristan’s karate event, but there was no reply and he was a no-show. He was a busy man, but I had a suspicion I was being ignored.

  I didn’t like the idea that Tristan might have been getting in schoolyard fights because of my irresponsibility to begin with. What’s worse was now that I had found the man who fathered him, I was bumbling it up with my own lack of self-control.

  I had thought about the fact that the intercourse we had was unprotected. I’d been prescribed a pill I take every three months to regulate my cycle. It’s also a contraceptive. But Daniel didn’t know that. Given the stories from his past all I could ask was—why? Considering our current circumstances, could he really be that reckless?

  The days rolled by and I resisted the urge to contact him, aside from a small envelope I’d placed in the mail on impulse. The ball was in his court now—but our lives went on.

  It was Saturday; the end of another long week, and the girls came over for a late breakfast before we made plans for the day.

  “You didn’t tell me how The Kiggles went, kiddo,” Violet addressed Tristan as she dashed hot sauce on her eggs.

  “It was okay,” he replied, shrugging. Jill lowered the newspaper in her hands with a frown. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that although we went, Tristan had decided The Kiggles were for little kids, not big boys who were almost five.

  “Just okay?” she asked, and his eyes widened a little; he knew she’d gifted the tickets.

  “I was just joking, Jill. It was really cool,” he back-pedaled; then waited worriedly for her to smile before he returned it. She went back to The Post.

  “There’s something suspect about those Kiggles if you ask me,” Violet leered.

  “No one asked you,” I interjected, but she went on.

  “Jill, remember Drag Queen Puppet Bingo? That’s all I’m saying,” she giggled and set down the hot sauce.

  “What’s a drag queen puppet bingo?” Tristan quizzed. Violet was suddenly very busy poking yellow eggs running with blood orange sauce.

  “Just an ordinary game of bingo, love,” I replied..

  “Well, well, well,” Jill said slowly as she lowered her paper with a flourish. “Look who made page six,” she smirked, handing me the paper. Violet practically leaped across the table and into my lap to see.

  “Is it my press photos from last night?” she chirped but quieted as we both saw what Jill meant.

  Under a photo of the back of a tall, blond, bobbed woman and a shorter, sandy-haired man with a black cloth napkin obscuring his face ran the blurb:

  Recent UK transplant, socialite Kate Hearst, was spotted diamond ring fingered and bloody red handed out on the town with a mystery man last night after leaving an intimate dinner at Bon Appetite Supper club.

  “They looked very cozy,” observed one diner. “Canoodling and whispering in each other’s ears. I almost told them to get a room!”

  Oh, the tangled webs we weave, Ms. Hearst.

  This is one gossip columnist who wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the pricey Fifth Avenue residence of BarclayBaird CEO, Daniel Baird when he hears about this. Although very private, it is well known in silver spoon circles on this side of the pond that Kate has been his lady for some time now and although no official announcement has been made, when his mother was asked last month, Lady Sophie Baird did not deny that the six carat stunner Kate’s been sporting of late is a sign that Ms. Hearst is soon joining the Baird clan.

  “She’s a lovely young lady,” was her only statement on the matter.

  To be a fly on those Chantilly and chinoiserie walls. Yowzers!

  “That broad’s smarter than she looks,” Jill quipped smugly. She snatched the paper back. “I don’t care if there’s a leprechaun hiding under that napkin, it’s got to be a step up from BastardBaird Assss…cot wearers,” Jill corrected herself last minute, realizing her inappropriate language in this company.

  “Hm, I wonder what happened,” Violet puzzled as she resumed sitting. She grinned at me.

  “She probably tried to dislodge that stick that’s been lodged up his assscot neck tie,” Jill scowled at her near miss as I eyed her disapprovingly. “I think we all know they get these stories wrong anyway. The ‘diner’ they interviewed was probably a tourist they paid off with a half-eaten Rueben sandwich.”

  They laughed. I lowered my eyes as I stirred my spoon in my hot tea. It was bad enough I slept with him, considering my neutral opinion of him was already shifting into wariness. Now I had the collapse of a relationship on my head. I could see my legacy now etched out on my epitaph.

  Gabrielle Valentine, the skin flute concerto, taught by the best: Daniel Baird, the pied piper of sex. Mother, harlot, home wrecker; oh, and she made nice furniture, too.

  ~o~

  I spent the rest of breakfast distracting myself, prepping for the important meeting I had tonight. After cleaning up, the girls, Tristan, and I decided to head out for a stress-free Saturday. The aquarium first, then Ian met us back at my house where Violet decided we should sing karaoke on Tristan’s little machine. Vi was totally in character as an out-of-control one-hit wonder as it became time for me to venture forth on my mission.

  “You’re wearing that?” Violet gasped as she eyed my outfit. I was wearing tailored black shirtdress, cinched by a black belt.

  “It’s in season and you gave it to me. What’s wrong with it?” I asked as I tugged at the hemline—it was a little shorter than I was entirely comfortable in. Jill laid down the mike to eye me with disapproval as well.

  “You’re going to X, Bree, not a parent conference,” Vi remarked, exasperated. “Why don’t you put on one of those bright-colored tank dresses I gave you?”

  “Vi, I’m not prowling for gentleman callers, I’m going to see Zack. This is perfectly fine,” I replied frankly. I grabbed my small black clutch and adjusted my diamond stud earrings. I snickered watching Ian lose a game of thumb war to Tristan over who got to sing next.

  “At least go put on heels. No sister of mine can be seen wearing ballet flats to X. People will think I’ve lost my touch,” Violet huffed, folding her arms on her chest lithely.

  “Agree. Try again,” Jill added. She strode over, spinning me back into my room.

  I changed into strappy danger shoes and returned, met with approval.

  “Much better,” Violet said passionately. Jill nodded grinningly as she took a seat on the sofa next to Ian and Tristan.

  “You look pretty, Mom,” Tristan complimented with an awe-filled smile as he ran over to me. I smoothed his hair. That compliment made it worth the painful shoe change.

  “Tell Zack I said sorry I couldn’t make it, but I’ll see him Monday,” Ian said straight faced, covertly shift his eyes to Jill in message. I laughed when he wagged his eyebrows. Ian and Zack have had the bromance of the ages going on sin
ce the day they met. But not much could top Jill for him.

  “Bye, my love, give Mommy a kiss,” I appealed to Tristan as I leaned down, lending him a cheek, and he complied.

  “Can I come see Uncle Zack, too?” he asked hopefully.

  “No, I need to go alone, it’s for adults. I’ll be home soon,” I replied reassuringly as I smoothed out his cowlick.

  “Tell him I said remember to take his boots off first!” Violet chimed with a smirk as I stood up and headed for the door. I shook my head trying to shake the image of Zack and Violet being intimate.

  As I opened the door to leave, Tristan ran up and hugged me again. “What was that for?” I inquired delightedly.

  “I don’t know,” he replied simply with a little shrug. I smiled wider and he returned it. “Bye, Mom.”

  My face fell a little as I stared in to his green eyes and the smile I recognized from someone else now, too. With a kiss on his forehead, I headed on my way.

  In all this change, there was one person who had been left out. Zack was my oldest friend, and we used to be as close as brother and sister. After my mother disappeared, Mitch was left with an infant girl and not a clue where to go from there. Zack’s granddad, Cal, was Mitch’s boss, mentor, and oldest friend. His wife, Dina, volunteered to help, just as she’d stepped up to raise her grandson.

  From the stories I’d been told, Mitch would get up in the middle night when my diaper got dirty and drive to their house down the street to have it changed. Dina watched me while my dad was on shift at odd hours as foreman at the Mill, and I spent my formative years running around their house, chasing Zack, who was two years older and considered me a total pest.

  When I found Violet and she took me under her Gucci-print wing, Zack reconsidered my status as an annoyance, deeming me cool by association. He also developed a huge crush on Vi and as adolescent nonsense goes, I developed a huge crush on him. Violet paid no attention, until ninth grade when other girls began noticing him. One night, that year, she snuck out of my window and returned a few hours later, minus her virginity.

  It blew my thirteen-year-old mind that they’d had sex at fifteen, or sex at all, but it stung because Violet knew he was my crush. She apologized, saying losing her virginity was a strategic move in her plan to be a fashion designer; she only picked Zack because she wanted someone as inexperienced as she was and wouldn’t deride her performance. Violet was true to her word, never dating Zack afterwards. Any romantic feelings I’d had towards Zack, however, died the night he slept with my sister.