A Family At Last Page 6

  “Cater,” she replied with a quick grin. She was quite pleased with how easy she held her own. As long as she didn’t look at him too much, she could do it.

  “No, really. What do you do when you’re not working?”

  She shrugged. Truth to tell, her life didn’t sound much more exciting than his. Less, if she were to be honest.

  “I like going for long walks, as you’ve already discovered. I like sitting under trees and watching the leaves get blown by the wind.” She sighed. “I like reading and taking naps.”

  “Sounds delightfully uncomplicated.”

  Had she imagined that faint note of envy in his voice? Probably had. Her life was a dud compared to his. “Doesn’t take a degree to do it.”

  “How did you end up being a waitress?”

  Once again she had to suppress that momentary shame interwoven with her dealings with Matthew. She had always worked, she reminded herself, had never needed any handouts. “I started in high school and never really tried anything else,” she said defensively. “Because Mom and I moved around a lot, it was hard to get anywhere in any job.” Now why did she have to say that? It sounded like whining and her vague reference to moving gave him another question to ask.

  “Do you ever think about doing other things?”

  Cory’s hands slowed as she looked out the window above the sink, thinking, wondering if he thought she lacked ambition. “I’ve often wished I could go back to school,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t mind expanding this business, either. I like catering.”

  “What would you study if you went back to school?”

  “I don’t know. Anything. Science has always interested me.”

  “Yes. Physics and heat transfer.”

  Cory smiled at that.

  “So how come you didn’t?” he continued.

  Their conversation was doomed, Cory thought, her thoughts diverted back to reality. Her mother’s health was a factor, exacerbated by the constant moving. Lawyers’ bills from fighting Zeke that took years to pay made it difficult. Never receiving any of the money Zeke always promised them made it difficult. Everything came back to Zeke and she knew Matthew wouldn’t see him in anything but a favorable light. So she took the easy way out. “My mother’s fibromyalgia.”

  “What exactly is that?”

  “A type of neurotransmitter dysfunction. Nice expensive word for you,” she couldn’t help but add.

  “I’ll file that away along with the lawyer jokes.” He took another dish and wiped it carefully. “So what does that mean?”

  Cory scraped at a stubborn grease stain, wondering how to condense the pain her mother suffered, the relentlessness of the sickness into a few sentences. “It’s hard to describe. She has a lot of muscle pain, fatigue, headaches. If she keeps her life regular, we can manage it, but stress throws her off.”

  “How long has she had it?”

  “Twelve, thirteen years now. It seems to come and go. It wasn’t properly diagnosed until about five years ago. The doctor she was seeing in Riverview told her she was a hypochondriac.”

  Cory gave him another quick glance. He wasn’t looking at her, concentrating on the dish he was drying.

  “Is she able to work?”

  Tugging her lip between her teeth, Cory contemplated her answer. “She’s not been able to hold down a steady job for the past ten years,” she said quietly, forcing down a feeling of shame. It made her mother sound lazy, something she knew Zeke accused Joyce of each time he came to pick Cory up for a visit.

  “And you’ve supported her all this time?”

  Cory was uncomfortable with his prying, wondering where he was headed. Wondering why he wanted to know about her mother now when he seemed to dismiss her so easily before.

  “We’ve managed quite well. And I’ve never minded. She’s made a lot of sacrifices for me, as well.”

  “And Zeke helped out, of course.”

  Cory pressed her eyes closed and prayed for patience. Back to Zeke again. “My mother and I seldom saw money from Zeke,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “But he had court-ordered support payments. Of course you would have seen the money.”

  “We saw checks, Matthew,” she said angrily. “Not money. Checks need to clear a bank account instead of bouncing in order to see money.” She stopped herself, knowing where Matthew stood on that point. He didn’t want to believe anything different about Zeke than what he knew.

  “Zeke really cared for you, you know,” Matthew continued.

  Cory couldn’t listen any longer. “Don’t,” she said harshly. “Don’t even start defending my stepfather to me. You’ve done a more than adequate job of that in court.”

  “But he did. He told me often how much he missed you.”

  “The only thing he missed was being able to push us around.” Cory wished she hadn’t started this whole business. “I don’t want to talk about Zeke Smith anymore. He’s out of my life and it’s over.”

  “But it’s not over yet, Cory,” Matthew replied, his voice quiet, well modulated. “There’s just one thing that has to be dealt with.”

  She hated to admit it, but he had a beautiful voice. A slow drawl that would lull the listener into thinking this was the most reasonable man on earth. Cory used to listen to him speaking sometimes, hating what he had to say, sometimes wishing he would use that same captivating voice on her.

  “The will,” she said with a sigh.

  “If it is true that you have seen injustice at his hand, then see this as his way of making it up to you.”

  How guarded he was with his words, Cory thought. He gave them both an out with his careful language. “Maybe,” she said.

  “I think you should reconsider what you told me the other day. I really think you should accept this. It’s a chance for you to maybe realize some of your dreams.”

  Cory swallowed, then took a slow breath as she tried to imagine herself expanding the business and working for herself—a goal she had put away for some years now.

  “This could be a good thing, Cory,” Matthew continued, “A final blessing on your life.”

  Part of her wanted to acknowledge this as right even as her more practical part still held on to mistrust of the situation. “It might be,” she said quietly, setting the last plate on the drain board.

  “I think it could be,” Matthew said.

  She drew in a deep breath, as if steadying the hopes that were even now rising in her. “So what would be the next step?” She looked up at him and as their eyes met, she felt the pull of his good looks. He smiled a crooked smile, the hint of a dimple on one side of his mouth and she felt an answering tug of attraction. “Not that I’m going to do anything, mind you. I’m just curious.”

  “I bring you the papers, you sign them and things get started.”

  “No surprises?” Cory asked.

  “Not unless some long lost child comes forward with a will that Zeke wrote out by hand.”

  “Zeke didn’t have any other kids.”

  His smile became full-fledged, his head tilted slightly to one side and Cory almost took a step backward at the force of Matthew’s charm directed solely at her.

  “It’s on the level, Cory. My dad took care of it all. If you don’t trust Zeke, I can tell you for sure that you can trust my father. He’s a good lawyer.”

  She thought a moment, unable to fight off the idea that maybe Matthew was right. She knew Clifton was a good lawyer. Look what he had done for Zeke.

  “Okay,” she replied, fighting that breathless feeling that she was making a mistake. That she was basing her decision on a charming smile. “Bring them to the restaurant tomorrow and we can do the deed.”

  Matthew’s smile faltered a moment, then he nodded. “Good enough. I’ll bring them first thing in the morning.”

  Cory turned back to the dishes, her feelings twisted around by the change in Matthew’s attitude toward her.

  He was a lawyer, trained to sway people to his point of view. P
eople with more education than she had been moved to agree with him.

  She clung to the memories as if to remind herself.

  She reminded herself of Zeke.

  Yet, she also had to believe that Matthew was right. That the law would take care of her.

  And slowly she felt her equilibrium return. Tomorrow she would sign the papers, and tomorrow Matthew would be on his way.

  Her life could get back to normal.

  But could it after seeing Matthew again?

  Chapter Five

  What did he want from his life, from his work?

  Matthew knew it wasn’t this. He knew it wasn’t spending half his evenings talking into a small machine because most of his day was spent away from the office. Then going home, falling into bed and getting up almost before the sun came up so that he could head straight to the office and do it all over again.

  He stood by his office window, hands in the pockets of his pants. Below him the river meandered, now drifting behind trees, then sparkling in the spring sun. Since moving to this new office a year ago, he seldom took time to look at the view.

  For now, his working day was over. In a few moments he would be joining his parents at a restaurant a few blocks from the office. He would have preferred to go to their home, put his feet up in his chair, but his parents wanted to treat him.

  With a sigh, Matthew turned back to his now empty desk, dropping into his chair to tidy up a few last files. It had taken a week and a half of long, tedious nights, but he was finally caught up. And in that week and a half he had time to think and to wonder.

  He couldn’t put Nathan’s offer out of his head. Couldn’t forget the difference between the Stanleys’ relationship and his parents’. Couldn’t help but think it had much to do with the pace of their lives.

  And he knew, deep inside, part of the attraction was the fact that Cory lived in Stratton as well.

  Hard to know why she held his attention. She certainly hadn’t courted it. And therein lay her charm, he supposed.

  Charm. He laughed. Hardly a word one would use in connection with Cory. Definitely straightforward was more like it. When he had come to the restaurant with the documents for the will, she had signed them, made some brief conversation and then went back to work.

  It was as if the few moments they’d spent together in the Stanleys’ house hadn’t happened and they were back to where they were before. She seemed only too glad to say goodbye to him. Was he really crazy?

  He leaned back in his chair, thinking of Cory and their convoluted relationship, wondering if he was fooling himself if he thought anything would change.

  The only times they saw each other was in the courtroom, in an antagonistic setting.

  Only one time had they met outside of that. His cousin Deirdre’s prom.

  His mind slipped back to that night.

  When he came to pick Deirdre up she had asked if he would mind giving a ride to a friend who didn’t have a date….

  All Deirdre gave him was the address, and it took them to a run-down block of apartments. Plastic lawn chairs taped up with duct tape sat on a parched lawn bordered by a cracked and broken sidewalk. A piece of cardboard was taped to the window beside the dented, peeling door of the address Deirdre had given.

  He hadn’t imagined Deirdre’s quick intake of breath, and he knew that Deirdre had never visited her friend at her home. And no wonder. If his aunt and uncle knew what kind of background this “friend” had, they would absolutely forbid Deirdre to hang out with her.

  Matthew had to know what was up. “So, who is this girlfriend, Deirdre?”

  Deirdre bit her lip, still staring at the apartment block. “Cory Smith.” She shook her head. “She would never tell me where she lived. I got the address from another girl.”

  “And why wouldn’t you tell me it was Cory?”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to pick her up if I told you it was Cory. I know you don’t think much of her.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “I’ve heard you and Uncle Clifton talking about her. When we’ve come to visit.” Deirdre looked directly at her cousin, suddenly much more grown-up than he remembered. “I like Cory. She’s a good friend.”

  Matthew stifled a sigh. This was Deirdre’s big night, and he had no right to lecture her on her choice of friends. Especially not when he had found himself interested in the selfsame friend he felt he had to warn her against. “I’ll try to behave,” he said with a smile.

  But as he walked up the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but wonder how Cory’s mother had let things go so far that they had to live in a dump like this when there was no need for it.

  He took a breath, reached for the doorknob, but it was opened before he could touch it.

  For a moment he stood face-to-face with Cory. But not the Cory Smith he usually saw. Her hair hung loose on her shoulders, soft and shining instead of pulled back in her habitual ponytail. Her brown lashes were accentuated with mascara, deepening the hazel tints in her eyes. Her lips glistened. She had always been a striking girl. Now her beauty took him off guard.

  “What are you doing here?” she snapped, breaking the mood.

  “I’m here to pick you up.” He gestured toward Deirdre who waited in his car.

  Her deep-brown eyes shifted past him, as if she were afraid to take her eyes off him. When she saw Deirdre, Matthew didn’t imagine her look of horror, followed by dismay.

  “How did she…what is she doing…?” She stopped, her eyes like twin darts almost impaling him.

  “I’m Deirdre’s escort,” he amended, wondering at her expression. “She asked me to pick you up.”

  Cory closed her eyes briefly, biting her lip. “Okay.” She lifted her chin, smiled vaguely at Deirdre who was getting out of the car. “Let’s go then.”

  As she swished past him in a cloud of satin he finally noticed her dress. A bouffant skirt with a snug bodice topped with a filmy scarf. Scarlett O’Hara in bright pink. He figured her dress to be about five years out of style compared to the narrow sheath that Deirdre wore.

  He wondered what possessed her to wear it. Zeke had offered to buy her a dress. But at their last court date, in Matthew’s presence, she’d told Zeke that she turned eighteen two days before graduation and she wouldn’t have to take anything from him anymore.

  Zeke had been crushed at her implication and again Matthew wondered why this girl was so cruel to him.

  The first few minutes in the car were quiet and then Deirdre turned to her friend. “I’m sorry I surprised you, Cory. I thought I would save you the trouble of walking all the way to school. Angela gave me your address. I didn’t…” Her voice trailed off.

  Matthew glanced at Cory in his rearview mirror but her head was down. “That’s okay,” she said quietly. “I appreciate you thinking of me.”

  Her quiet pardon caught Matthew off guard. And it suddenly made her a little more vulnerable and a little more appealing.

  When they arrived at the convention center where the prom was held, a bevy of giddy girls descended on them, oohing and aahing over Matthew’s car, Deirdre’s dress and casting coy glances at Matthew himself. When Cory got out there was a moment of awkward silence, but then she, too, was drawn into their circle.

  Matthew followed bemused, watching Cory’s interaction with the girls. She was slightly aloof, yet obviously well liked. An enigma. An attractive and intriguing enigma.

  The evening was the usual for graduation. High spirits and overindulgence. Matthew would have been bored but for Cory. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her, couldn’t keep from watching her. Wearing that ugly pink dress, she walked through the crowded room, smiling, laughing and fully sure of herself in spite of the fact that she came without an escort.

  Intrigued by her, he asked her to dance.

  She turned, her smile disappearing, her narrowed eyes holding his and turned him down flat.

  Matthew was surprised and annoyed to see the anger in her eyes. H
e knew she didn’t like him but had thought that on this special occasion, things might be different….

  He saw her off and on over the next six months. And against his better judgment, each time he saw her, he couldn’t fight the appeal she held.

  Then, without warning and without a word, Cory and her mother left town. Neither he nor his father ever heard from them again.

  Until now. Until he found out from Nathan that she lived in Stratton.

  Matthew pushed himself away from his desk, and his memories. He was already late.

  His parents were already seated by the time he got to the restaurant.

  “And how was your day?” Nancy McKnight asked as he bent over to kiss her.

  “The usual. Answer phones and calm down hysterical clients.” He nodded at his father who, in spite of spending most of his day in court, looked as crisp and fresh as he had when he stepped into the office at six-thirty this morning.

  And the reason Matthew knew what his father looked like at six-thirty in the morning was because Clifton had been there before him when he’d arrived at that time.

  “We were just getting ready to order,” his father said, nodding at the waiter who had come up to their table at his signal.

  Matthew picked up his own menu and with a quick glance over it, made his decision.

  The conversation became general as his mother asked after his health and hinted at his love life. “Tricia phoned the other day. She misses you.”

  Matthew stifled a sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that.” And before his mother could start on a litany of Tricia’s obvious charms, he turned to his father and asked about the court case he had dealt with that morning.

  Their food was served and as they ate the talk stayed superficial. Matthew wondered how he should broach the subject of spending the summer working with Nathan. Clifton would be angry, his mother disappointed, so he figured he better work the philanthropy angle.

  “Nathan Stanley approached me while I was there,” he finally said in a lull in the conversation. “Said he needed some help over the summer months.”

  “That’s what law students are for,” Clifton said, lifting one eyebrow at his son as if asking what this had to do with him.