"I'll be telling her your secrets," Lawrence said.
"I have no doubt."
Duncan went into his study. Lawrence barely waited for the door to close before saying, "I know about the deal you have with Duncan. Why you're helping him."
"Oh." She hadn't been expecting him to say that. "My brother has some problems. This seemed the only way to get him help."
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. But you're not acting like someone doing a job. Are you that good an actress?"
She looked down at her lap, then back at him. "No. I'm not. I like Duncan. He can seem really hard and distant, but I don't think that's who he is. There's kindness in him. He's a good man."
Lawrence nodded slowly. "Not too many people see that side of him. They believe the press. It takes strength to take a failing business and grow it into an empire. He did that. He fought his way out of his circumstances."
Circumstances Annie didn't know much about. "I know you helped raise him," she said.
"The blind leading the blind," Lawrence told her. "My sister was a flake. She was a lot younger than me-a surprise baby. Our parents were so happy to have another child. They adored her. She was spoiled, always getting her way. After they died, she took her half of the money and disappeared. A couple years later, she came back pregnant. Wouldn't say who the father was. I'm not sure she knew. She had Duncan, then took off again. That's how it was, the first dozen or so years of his life. She would come and go. It broke his heart."
Annie looked at the closed study door and wondered about the little boy who had been abandoned over and over by his mother.
"When Duncan was eleven or twelve, he told his mother to either stay or go. She had to pick. I think he was hoping she would choose to be a part of his life. Instead she disappeared. He never mentioned her again. I got word a few years later that she'd died. I told him. He said it didn't matter."
Hiding the pain, she thought sadly. Because it had to have mattered. First his mother had betrayed him, then Valentina had. Duncan had learned difficult lessons from the women who were supposed to love him. No wonder he didn't let anyone inside.
"I was hard on him," Lawrence admitted. "I didn't know anything about raising a kid. I took him to the gym with me, taught him to box. He was set on college, which confused the hell out of me, but he made it. Got a scholarship and everything." There was pride in his voice.
"He's a good man, and a lot of that is because of you," she said.
"I hope so. You know about his ex-wife?"
She nodded.
"There was a disaster. I never liked her and I'm glad she's gone, but now I worry Duncan won't ever settle down. He needs a family. Someone to come home to."
Not a very subtle message, Annie thought, wishing it were a possibility. "Duncan was very clear," she said. "This is a business relationship, nothing more."
"Is that what you want?"
A simple question with an easy answer. "I'm not the only one who gets to decide."
"Maybe not, but you can influence him."
"You're giving me too much credit."
"You'd be surprised."
If only, she thought. After all he'd been through, she wasn't sure Duncan would ever be willing to give his heart and she couldn't settle for anything less.
"I hope he finds someone," she said.
"Even if that means someone other than you?"
"Of course."
Lawrence stared at her for a long time. "You know what? I believe you. Which makes me hope things work out. Don't give up on my nephew, Annie. He's not easy, but he's worth it."
Before she could say anything in response, the study door opened and Duncan came out.
"You about done telling her all my secrets?" he asked his uncle."
"No, but we made a good start at it."
Duncan chuckled. "Glad I could help. Ready to watch the movie?"
"Sure." Lawrence winked at her. "While he's playing with his electronics, let me tell you about the time I beat a southpaw. It was back in '72. Miami. Talk about a hot day."
Duncan groaned, putting the DVD into the player.
"I don't mind," Annie said honestly. "Were you the favorite?"
Lawrence grinned. "Honey, I was practically a god."
Annie shelved her heart-to-heart with Lawrence as her commitments with Duncan took center stage. The following Monday, she attended a party at an art gallery that featured stark modern paintings that were beyond confusing. The single tiny red dot on the snow-white canvas was the least of the strangeness. There was a collection of black paintings. Just black. Apparently they were supposed to represent bleakness, and as far as she was concerned, the artist had done a fine job.
Wednesday night was a charity fund-raiser with an auction of ornaments painted by celebrities. Duncan bought a beautiful tree done by Dolly Parton. For Lawrence, he claimed, but Annie wondered if he might have a little crush on the singer himself. Tonight was a dinner at the Getty Museum in Malibu. Duncan was picking her up at five, which meant she had to be home no later than four so she could get ready. She was nearly on time, a positive sign. Then she felt the telltale uneven thudding that signaled another flat tire.
"No!" Annie yelled, slapping her steering wheel. "Not tonight. It's not a good time." Although she couldn't think when a better time might be. She was always running somewhere.
She pulled into a mini-mart parking lot and got out of her car. The sun blazed down on her. It might be December everywhere else, but in L.A. it felt like August.
She walked around her car. Sure enough, the right front tire was flat. She had a spare and a jack. She even knew how to change the tire. Assuming she could get the lug nuts unfastened.
She glanced at her watch, groaned at the time, then reached for her cell phone. No way she was going to be ready by five.
Seconds later the call was picked up. "Mr. Patrick's line."
"Annie McCoy for Duncan."
"Of course, Ms. McCoy. I'll put you right through."
"Another crisis?" Duncan asked when he took the call.
"Yes. I have a flat tire. I'll be a little late. Do you want me to meet you there?"
"You need new tires."
She stared at the worn treads and rolled her eyes. "Obviously. I'll get them. I've been saving. In another two months I'll have enough."
"It's nearly the rainy season. You need them before then."
Probably, but no amount of needing brought in more money each month. She rubbed her temple, feeling the exhaustion creep into her bones. She'd been out late every night this week and still had to get up early for school. Fifteen five-year-olds kept her running all day. The last thing she needed was Duncan stating the obvious.
"I appreciate the heads-up," she said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt. "Look, it's hot, I'm tired. Just tell me what you want me to do."
"Let me buy you the tires."
"No." She drew in a breath. "No, thank you."
"You're supposed to be where I say, when I say. If new tires are required to get you there, then you'll get new tires."
"That is not a part of our deal," she told him, angry and sad at the same time. "You're not buying me tires. You're not buying me anything else. The freezer was too much, and I've already accepted that."
"Why are you mad?"
"I just am." She wanted to get out of the sun and heat. She wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep for two days. But mostly she didn't want to be Duncan Patrick's charity case.
"Annie? Talk to me."
"I don't have anything to say. I'll meet you there. I know how to change a tire. It won't take long."
He was silent. Worry replaced annoyance.
"Duncan, I'm sorry I snapped. I know this is part of our deal. I'm not backing out of it."
"Is that what you think? That after all this time, I would pull your brother out of rehab and toss him in jail?"
"No, but … "
"Which means yes."
"It means I owe you. I'm just crabby. It's hot, I'm tired. Let me get home and dressed and I'll be better."
"No," he said. "Just go home. You've got the Christmas play at school tomorrow night. You have to be rested for that."
"Winter festival," she corrected.
"Right. Because everyone is fooled."
"Exactly." Her bad mood faded a little. "I want to come to the party."
"No, you don't. Go home. Rest. It's okay."
She could take a bath, she thought wistfully. Sip some wine from the box. "Really?"
"Yes. About the tires … "
She groaned. "Don't make me have to hit you the next time I see you. I have a great jab."
"You have a sad excuse for a jab. It would be like being attacked by a butterfly."
Probably true, she thought. "You're not buying me tires."