Montana Darling(31)

She hung his jacket in the closet, even though Ryker didn’t expect their business to take long. She’d never tolerated mess.

“No kids today?”

“Ben’s the only one still at home. Charlotte—she wants to be called Charli, now—has decided she’s gay and moved in with her girlfriend off-campus. She’s in her second year at Penn State.”

Ryker couldn’t imagine how hard-ass Howard took that news.

“I have everything laid out in the dining room,” Mom said, motioning for Ryker to follow.

They passed through the living room. Unlike the Zabrinski’s home, which was all about the views and a few treasured mementos, this big, awkwardly designed space seemed filled to the seams with stuff: three sofas and the biggest TV he’d ever seen outside a sports bar. Everything looked expensive, but impersonal.

She held the dining room door to let him go first. Since they hadn’t embraced, this was the closest he’d been to her in years. Her perfume took him straight back to his childhood when his father brought her a bottle of L’air du Temps from Paris. She’d laughed and hugged Dad, the happiest he could remember seeing her. She’d even sprayed a dab on Ryker’s skinny wrist.

He swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat.

“Where’s Bennie?”

“His school-to-work program. If he can get through this program okay, he’ll be eligible to live in a group home. Until then we’re stuck here. Ben doesn’t handle change well.”

Ryker had no idea what that meant. Nor did he care. The kid had been a noisy, tantrum-crazed brat who was catered to on every level when Howard and his children moved into the Bensen home.

“And Peter and Penny?”

“Married. Working. No grandchildren as yet.”

He could have told her about Colette’s baby but he didn’t.

She pointed him to a chair then took the one at the head of the table.

So much for small talk.

A business-size envelope bearing his name was the only thing in front of him. Mom, on the other hand had several stacks of a paper, a pen and an old photo album that looked familiar.

“We are going to end things here today, Ryker,” Mom said.

“End what?”

“Everything. Your antipathy toward Howard and me and our family. Your bitterness. Your hero worship of your father. I am tired of being demonized for wanting to live my life and be loved for who I am, not for who I could never be.”

Ryker tossed out his hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, not. You were a dreamer, like your father. You only saw what you wanted to see. And the minute Martin put a camera in your hand, you only saw what you chose to view through a two-inch lens.”

He didn’t argue. His high school experience had been shaped by his love of photography and sports. Maybe he had hidden behind his camera to some degree. “Better than hanging around here listening to you and Dad fight.”

She snorted in disdain. “As if you cared. You were off in your own world where the rules didn’t apply to you. Cutting class to go into the city. You were fifteen years old, Ryker. You could have been killed or molested. ‘Let him go,’ Martin said. ‘The boy’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s learning more about life than he’d ever get in a classroom.’”

Some of those fights were about me, he realized, surprised.

“Why did my skipping school and breaking the rules bother you so much?”

“Because Martin encouraged it. That went against our agreement.” She fumbled with a legal-size envelope. When she handed it to him, he noticed her perfectly manicured nails seemed at odds with her old-looking hands. “I have it in writing. I was supposed to be in charge of you boys. He had the business, but the house and kids were mine.”

Ryker skimmed the document, which seemed to support her claim. “You agreed to this in lieu of a divorce?”

“Yes. At the time, your father’s business was in its infancy. His reputation benefited from the illusion of the perfect home and family.”

“Okay. I get that. But what was in it for you?”

She didn’t answer right away. “My father left when I was three. Mother couldn’t raise five kids on her own, so she put my brother and me in foster care when I was nine. Believe it or not, foster care was a step up for me. One of the families who took me in was very well off. I made up my mind I’d never be poor again. Your father was the most handsome, dashing young man I’d ever met when I was a lowly cigarette girl working at a club in the city. I think he married me partly to annoy his parents and partly because I was the first girl who didn’t fall into bed with him simply because he asked.”

“You married Dad for his name and money.”

“Yes. And because he was handsome and I thought we were in love. It didn’t take long to figure out love wasn’t anything like in the movies. But I wasn’t about to give up on my marriage. I had too much invested.”

Ryker’s throat closed up. He wouldn’t have been able to speak even if he’d known what to say. Instead, he listened to her side of the story. “Martin caught the mumps from your brother when you were six months old. Flynn was sick a few days, but your father had to be hospitalized. When he recovered, the doctors told him most likely he’d never be able to father any more children. I don’t know if that news triggered some sort of compulsion to prove he was still a man or what, but from that point on, Martin was never faithful to me. The more successful he became, the more women he had. All around the world.”

An allegation apparently supported by the documents in his hand, Ryker realized. Private investigators’ reports included photographs of Dad with glamorous-looking women in Singapore, Paris, London, and San Francisco.

Ryker’s hand shook when he returned the stack of papers to the envelope. “But Dad continued to live here. With us. With you.”

“We had twin beds.”

“You told me that was because you liked a soft mattress and Dad liked a firm one.”

She shrugged. “That was true. I just left out the other reasons.”

“This is why you never traveled with us to Montana.”

“Partly. I used Martin’s strange attachment to Montana as a chance to live the life he’d promised me when he proposed. ‘Marry me and you will see the world,’ he said. So, I did. I took my mother to Ireland the summer before she died. A divorced friend and I went to Egypt. I was on a Mediterranean cruise when I met Howard. His wife was in remission, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time.”

Ryker shook his head, confused. “I thought Howard was a business friend of Dad’s?”

“No. Howard and I started seeing each other after Marge passed. He’d cared for her for years and was truly broken up by her death, but he’s human. He needed affection, a loving touch. He’s a good man, Ryker. Despite what you think.”

“A good man doesn’t steal from his stepson’s trust fund.”

Mom picked up a smaller envelope and handed it to him. “He borrowed that money. He’d done it twice before when the market went wonky. He called it robbing Ryker to pay Paul, but he always—always—returned it with interest. This time…the market hasn’t rebounded as quickly as he expected.”

The idea of Howard pilfering from his trust for all these years made Ryker queasy. He held up the envelope. “What’s this? A promissory note?”

She didn’t answer until he pulled out a cashier’s check. The number of zeroes made his jaw drop.

“It’s the projected value of your trust as of tomorrow. Your birthday. I hired the most reputable accounting firm in Pittsburgh to ascertain the correct amount.”

He looked at the check then looked at her. “I don’t get it. If you can afford this, why’d Howard steal from my account?”

She didn’t answer right away. She seemed to need a moment to get her emotions under control. “Your father—for all his faults—was the most generous man I ever knew. And he understood stocks and bonds the way you understand light and exposure. He set up a trust in my name at the same time he set up yours and Flynn’s. I never mentioned this to Howard. He would have felt emasculated and hurt because Martin’s investments did so well over the years. So, this check is between us only.”

She shoved another stack of papers his way. These were flagged with tiny yellow Sign Here stickers. “As it stands now, the land belongs to you and Flynn, and the woman who bought it is out her money. What I am proposing is you and your brother sign an affidavit admitting you authorized Howard to sell the land and the signatures are yours. I know that’s asking a lot. You’ve always loved that land, but as you can see I’ve included a check for the amount of the land, with interest. You can buy another lot.”

The check was generous to say the least. “Why didn’t you tell me about Dad?”

“Would it have made a difference? You loved the man you believed him to be. I wanted to leave your memories of your father intact. But Howard is too old and his health too problematic to survive a long, ugly trial or prison.” Her voice shook for the first time in all the years he’d known her. “And I can’t care for Bennie on my own, Ryker. When Ben hit puberty something changed inside him. I know you thought he was a spoiled brat. I made excuses. He was so young when his mother died. But…things got pretty rough for awhile. We thought he might have to be institutionalized. Fortunately, this new program—and his meds—seem to be working. I need Ben to be successful in this program, Ryker, so Howard and I can share a few years of peace and quiet. We want to sell all this and travel again. Like when we first met.”