"Everything's fine."
Walsh made his way down the steps with dragging feet, unsure when he'd be able to return.
* * *
"Promise we'll see you again soon." Kristeene Bennett walked Walsh out to where Jo waited in the car, on the phone.
"Mom, I told you Dad's got me working on this acquisition." Walsh set his luggage on the ground, linking his arm through his mother's.
"You don't fool me." She peered up at him, a small, knowing smile playing around her mouth. "Like you're not enjoying every minute of your work with Bennett."
Walsh couldn't suppress the grin that split his face. She did know him after all.
"It's fantastic." He laughed, too, shaking his head. "This company really would be much better off under the Bennett umbrella, Mom, and persuading them to our way of seeing things has been incredibly challenging."
"Just don't forget you're not only your father's son. You're also your mother's."
"Hey, I'm an equal opportunity son." He held up his hands in defense. "Unc is sending me to Haiti in a couple of months to scope out a potential orphanage. With all the corruption there, we may be better off just building our own, putting our people in place, and starting from scratch. Won't know until I get there."
"That's my boy," she said, obviously pleased that he wasn't neglecting his philanthropic responsibilities. A small frown pulled her brows together. "I don't like what I've been hearing, Walsh. I've always liked Sofie, but if she's influencing you to do these things I've heard about in the papers … well, I just don't know about that girl. Although she's Ernest's daughter, and he and your father have been arranging your marriage since kindergarten, I-"
"Stop right there." Walsh couldn't help but groan, his patience so thin on this subject. "If one more person implies that I'm marrying Sofie, I won't be responsible for my actions."
"Well, what are you doing with her?"
"Mom, I honestly don't know." He sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension that had gathered there. "I never should have gotten involved with her."
"Then why did you?"
Walsh looked at the house behind them, looked up at the sky, even at his shoes. Everywhere but into those omniscient eyes.
"It was a mistake, one I wish I could take back. I hate myself for it."
"Hating yourself never gets you anywhere." She reached up, pushing a maverick lock of hair back off his forehead. "All you can do is make it right, ask for forgiveness, and move forward. Stringing her along only makes it worse, son."
"I know. I don't want to do that, but I don't want to hurt her. She's a great girl. Just not the one for me."
"Well, you have to let her know that. As kindly as you can. And you'll know the one when you find her." His mother ran her hand down the side of his face. "Cam did."
Walsh stiffened, the smile congealing on his face. He turned away, picking up his luggage and stowing it in the back of the luxurious midnight blue Land Rover.
"Is this Jo's new Rover?"
He hoped to set his mother on a different course. She was too much of a bloodhound not to sniff out the fissure in his friendship with the man she saw as her second son.
"No, it's actually mine." Her smug smile cajoled him to smile back. "I told Jo if she loves it so much, she needs to get her own. She drives it more than I do. Cam loves it more than both of us combined."
"That's Cam. He loves a good car."
"Walsh." She put her hand on his arm to stop him before he climbed into the passenger seat. "It'll all work out."
"I don't know what you mean." He looked no higher than the patch of ground between them.
"I do know you." Voice quiet, she lifted his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. "You and Cam are like brothers. Nothing's worth ruining that, son."
He froze, horrified that his mother might know about his traitorous heart. Might think, after what his father had put her through, that he would violate anyone's marriage vows.
"What makes you think I'm ruining anything?" He swallowed shame and guilt. "I'm not."
"I know you're not. You're loyal and honest. In that way, you're your mother's son. Don't forget it."
Before he had time to respond, Jo leaned over, pushing the passenger-side door open and bumping Walsh's hip.
"Get in. It won't be my fault if you miss your flight."
"Okay, Mom," Walsh said, glad to escape her piercing stare, but reluctant to leave her again since he wasn't sure when he'd be back.
He reached for her, surprised at how fragile she felt in his arms. He leaned back, noting how her beautiful face had narrowed. There were lines around her eyes and mouth he hadn't noticed before.
"You've lost weight. You taking care of yourself?"
"No." Jo leaned forward from the driver's seat. "She's been losing weight and is tired all the time. I've been trying to convince her to see her doctor, but she won't."
"I'm fine." Kristeene leaned down until she could see into the car. She quelled whatever Jo would have said with a warning glare.
"Mom, please go see your doctor." Walsh felt bad for not noticing the signs before. He'd have to dig with Jo later for more intel. "For me. Please."
"All right, all right." Kristeene patted his shoulder, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "For you, baby. I'll make an appointment this week."
Pulling out of the driveway, Walsh couldn't shake the feeling that things were shifting inevitably on every front of his life. He wanted to make Jo stop the car and turn back around so he could run to his mother, huddle in the safety he'd always found in her as a little boy. She'd always known just what to say, just what to do to make it better. Watching her stately figure getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, he was afraid that this time, even a mother's love couldn't hold back the dark tide he sensed coming.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thank God that's over." Walsh sliced into his filet mignon. Delmonico's made a mean steak.
"Your first acquisition." Martin Bennett raised his glass. "Congratulations. Merrist is now a Bennett holding."
"You knew it would be," Walsh said around the tender, rare meat nearly falling apart in his mouth.
"I know you're my son." Martin flashed his pirate's smile. "Despite all that charity your mother has infected you with, my genes are still under there somewhere."
Walsh snorted, flicking a grudgingly admiring glance across the elegantly set table. The man had a killer instinct, he had to give him that.
"I was hoping to avoid the threat of a hostile takeover," Walsh said, watching his father sip his merlot. "But you were right. They didn't want to tangle with us."
"You'd done a masterful job winning them over already," Martin said, the rare compliment freezing Walsh's hand on its way to deliver another mouthwatering bite of steak. "They just had to be reminded that if it came down to playing dirty, they wouldn't fare well."
"It worked." Walsh shook the shock of his father's approval off and took his next bite. "I'm just glad we got it all sewn up before I leave tomorrow."
"Where are you going again?"
"Haiti, Dad. You know that."
"Oh, yeah, Haiti. St. Tropez? No. Paris? No? Dubai? No. Destination Haiti."
"Don't try to talk me out of it." Walsh set his fork down, giving his father a warning look. "I've busted my ass for the last year getting this Merrist deal done. I'm entitled to some time off."
"Time off?" Martin cocked his head, pretending to consider this alien concept. "I remember time off. I took some once. I found it overrated."
"Well, I'm taking some. And I'm doing with it exactly as I choose."
"And you always choose orphans in the most godforsaken places."
Walsh let his father's chiding roll right off his back.
"Don't complain until I ask you to come along."
"How does your mother feel about this trip to Haiti?" Martin didn't look up from his steak.
"Mom?" Walsh frowned, still disconcerted when his father asked him about his mother after years of stoic silence. "She thinks it's great."
They continued eating for a few moments, each occupied with their own thoughts.
"And she's doing well?" Martin finally asked.
"Who?" Walsh sipped his cabernet sauvignon, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation.